He makes an animalistic noise in the back of his throat, reaching down to hook one of my legs over his arm and pounding into me with such force that I practically feel him in my fucking cervix. His pace is relentless, his eyes wild and ferocious, and I can’t hold back any longer, my limbs stiffening as my climax sweeps over me, leaving me devastated.
It only takes a few more hard thrusts for Knox to find his release, but I’m too lost to my own pleasure, to the swirls and eddies of the sheer bliss to take much note of his roar.
“Little Bird,” a deep voice purrs, and I mumble softly, my eyes closed, when a nose nuzzles my neck, kissing the sensitive skin there.
“I think we finally broke her,” Jude says, and masculine chuckles echo around the room. I’d be a bit pissed to be the butt of their joke, but I can’t bring myself to rouse out of my orgasm stupor.
“Let's clean her up, then we all need some sleep,” I hear Aeron say, and I whimper when cold air meets the front of me as Knox pulls away.
“Shhh, Little Bird. I’ll be right back and I plan to sleep in between those pretty thighs of yours,” he whispers, his voice dark and husky.
I let their quiet conversation lull me to sleep, soon losing myself to darkness, knowing that I’m safely nestled in amongst my Tailor boys. All thoughts of anything else, the past and the future forgotten as I lose myself to their comforting embrace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“365” BYMOTHER’S DAUGHTER, BECK PETE
LARK
The warmth of hot bodies wakes me, and I come to slowly, reveling in the heat as I'm surrounded by the guys. By my Tailor boys.
Did we really just confess our feelings only last night?
It feels like forever since I arrived in this warehouse, though it’s not been longer than a smattering of weeks, and so much has changed in that time. I’ve gone from being a tortured prisoner to…this. I nibble my lip as I consider what I am to them and what they are to me.
We’re an impossibility, Jude was not far off when he quoted Romeo and Juliet at me. Our fathers have been at war for longer than any of us can remember. If either discovers how deep our love runs, like it’s etched into our very bones… I shudder at the thought and my hands find Knox’s head, resting on my stomach just like he promised. Sinking my fingers into his thick, blond hair, I use the contact to try and calm my racing heart.
But I can’t stop the ache in the back of my throat at what will happen soon. What I will do to these guys who have become as essential to me as breathing.
There’s no other way, not if you want to be free and save Rook, just like you promised.
“What has that beautiful face of yours frowning, Dove?” Aeron’s deep voice is made even huskier by sleep, and I turn to face him, the weight on my chest unrelated to the man lying on top of me.
“How will this work, Aeron? Our fathers hate each other, our gangs are locked in a fucking war that started before we were even born. If my father ever found out?—”
“Shhhh,” he soothes, reaching out a large palm and cupping my cheek. Warmth from his touch has me nuzzling into it, my eyes briefly closing at the comfort it brings, something which, until meeting these men, I’d never experienced at a man’s touch. “No one will ever hurt you again. Not now that you’re ours. We protect what belongs to us.”
A trembling exhale falls from my lips; I’ve never been claimed before, not in any way that made me feel safe and treasured.
“But who will protect you? I don’t want him to hurt you.” Even I can hear the panic in my tone, the idea of my father getting a hold of them making bile leave a sour taste at the back of my throat.
There’s no choice, Lark.
“I might get offended by how you seem to think we can’t take care of ourselves, Little Bird,” Knox says, his voice a deep rumble as he pushes up and covers my body with his in a single, smooth move. “Howsoftyou think we are.” He punctuates the word ‘soft’ with a thrust of his hips, demonstrating that there isn’t any softness to him this morning.
“Knox! Fuck’s sake, I’m being serious.”
“So am I, princess,” he growls, dipping his head to take my nipple into his hot mouth.
“And I need a piss, so unless you’re into golden showers…”
“We’ve already talked about that, Nightingale,” Jude pipes up from the other side of me, and I turn my head to see the mischief making his ocean eyes dance and sparkle in the morning light filtering around the curtains.
“You’re not helping, Devil Prince.” I point an accusing finger at him, which backfires when he sucks it into his mouth.
“He never does,” Tarl grumbles, grabbing a fistful of Jude’s thick hair and pulling his head back, my finger falling from his mouth with a pop as his neck is exposed. “But he enjoys being punished too much to stop, don’t you, Brat?”
Jesus fucking Christ, someone save me from the pussy-dripping vibes these two exude.
