Cyrus moves first, which surprises me. He crosses the room in three strides, crowding into her space until she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. His hand comes up to wrap around her throat—not the collar, but the soft skin above it—and I watch her pulse flutter and jump beneath his fingers.
"Kade said no fucking you," Cyrus says, his voice dropping into that commanding register that makes my own dick twitch instinctively. "But he didn't say we couldn't make you fall apart in other ways."
She swallows hard beneath his grip, and I see the exact moment she surrenders. Her body goes soft, shoulders dropping, eyes going half-lidded with want.
"Then do it," she breathes.
That's all the invitation I need.
I slide off the bed and drop to my knees between her legs before my brain can catch up with my body.
"Lift your hips," I order, and she does immediately, letting me hook my fingers into the waistband of those sweatpants.Mysweatpants. The knowledge that she's been wearing my clothes makes me even hornier.
And I guess that's only fair, considering how many ofhersI've stolen.
I peel them down slowly, dragging her panties with them because I'm not a patient man and never have been. The fabric slides over her thighs, past her knees, until she's bare from the waist down and I can finally see what I've been fantasizing about for four fucking years.
"Holy shit," I breathe, because she's perfect.
Completely fucking perfect.
Her pussy is already glistening, swollen and pink and so wet I can see a few droplets on the edge of the bed. I try not to think about who our girl might have gotten that Brazilian done for. Hopefully she just likes tiny lacy panties, because the list of people I have to kill is already a mile long.
"She's soaked," Cyrus observes, pulling her onto his lap for better access, his clinical tone at odds with the way his hand tightens on her throat. I have to adjust my position on the floor, but when he puts a hand on one of her knees and spreads her thighs open wider to give me better access, I forgive him. "You like this, don't you, Princess? Being at our mercy?"
His other hand snakes up her throat again, and she gasps.
Ellie doesn't answer—probably can't, with the way Cyrus is holding her throat—but her thighs fall open even wider and she squirms on his lap, an invitation written in body language instead of words.
I lean forward, breathing in the scent of her arousal, and my mouth waters. This is better than any high, any adrenaline rush from a job we shouldn't have survived but somehow did. This is Ellie Riggs spread out in front of me like a feast, and I'm about to fucking devour her.
The first swipe of my tongue makes her jerk, a gasp tearing from her throat. Cyrus's hand tightens, keeping her still, keeping her exactly where we want her.
"Stay still," he commands. "Let Jinx taste you."
And fuck if I don't intend to devour her cunt until she remembers who it really belongs to. I drag my tongue through her folds, tasting her properly, mapping every ridge and valley like I'm memorizing the sacred text of my new religion. She tastes like honeyed sweetness and four years of wanting, and I can't get enough.
I grip her thighs, spreading her wider, holding her open while I feast. I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, feeling it pulse beneath the attention. Her hips try to buck up, demanding more friction from my mouth, but Cyrus holds her down with his free hand splayed across her stomach.
"Greedy little pet," he mutters, and I can hear the strain in his voice. The control it's taking not to just say fuck it and take what he wants.
But Kade's rules are clear. No penetration. Not yet. Although my opportunistic brain is already reminding me he didn't say anything about her mouth, just this pretty cunt and ass.
I suck her clit between my lips, applying just enough pressure to make her cry out. The sound goes straight to my cock, and I grind against the edge of the box spring, seeking any contactI can get. My tongue works her in steady circles, alternating between her clit and her entrance, licking up every drop of arousal that leaks from her.
"Jinx," she whimpers, and hearing my name on her lips like that—breathy and desperate—makes me want to come in my fucking jeans.
"That's it," I murmur against her pussy, the vibration making her shudder. "Say my name, Princess. Let us hear how much you love this."
I slide two fingers inside her, and she's so tight and wet that I almost lose my mind. Her walls clench around me immediately, and I have to remind myself that this isn't about me. This is about her. About making her forget everything except the pleasure we're giving her.
I curl my fingers, finding that spot inside that makes her back arch off the bed with a delicious little cry. Cyrus has to use both hands now to keep her still, his grip on her throat and stomach firm enough to leave marks.
Good. I want her marked. Want evidence of this moment written on her skin where only we can see it.
"She's close," Cyrus observes, and there's hunger in his voice now. Raw, barely controlled hunger that matches what's burning through my veins. "I can feel her pulse racing."
I pump my fingers faster, my tongue working her clit in time with the thrusts. She's making these small, desperate sounds that drive me absolutely insane, her whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
