The sensation makes me arch off the bed.
The next second, he tugs down the fabric roughly, exposing my puckered nipple to the cool night air.
“Fuck,” he hisses reverently. “You’re so beautiful. I dreamed of you the entire time I was asleep. You drive me absolutely mad.”
He dips his head, and the screwed up thing is that I can just glimpse Romulus’s sleeping face when he does, and I wonder... is he dreaming of me too?
“Remus, I’m serious.” I try to sit up, but he holds me in place with his hands, strong fingers kneading my hips. “We need to?—”
“I am too,” he growls, the sound sending heat straight to my core. “You want to talk, we’ll talk. But first, let me pleasure and taste you. Please.”
He looks up, and his eyes are heavy with a longing that seems deeper than just lust. More desperate. More raw. He wants to reconnect with me in this most basic of ways—body to body, skin to skin.
And if I’m honest, I want it too. Desperately. My body’s been warring with my head since I saw his shadow in my bedroom.
Because I want him desperately.
The only thing is—I wasn’t sure when I saw him come in if it would turn out to be Remus or Romulus. Either way, I knew I wanted them like this. Hands on me, bodies thrusting together, sweat mingling and breath hitching.
That feels... wrong somehow, doesn’t it? Or maybe it’s the fact that it doesn’t feel wrong that feels wrong. You’re only supposed to want one man at a time unless you’re on The Bachelorette or something.
And even then, they still have to pick someone in the end.
“Don’t think,” Remus says, reading my face perfectly. “Just feel.”
I breathe out in a long hiss as he grips my inner thighs, his thumbs massaging circles into my sensitive skin as he draws my legs open. His hands are underneath my silk nightgown now, pushing it up to my waist.
The sharp inhale of his breath tells me he’s just discovered I’m not wearing any underwear.
“Was this for me?” he asks, voice a heavy rasp that immediately gets a harsher edge as he finishes, “Or for him?”
“Don’t do that,” I warn, feeling my desire cool slightly. “Don’t pit me against you two.” I start to pull away from him. “Because that is not a game I’m interested in playing.”
This is all way more confusing than I ever could have anticipated.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please stay.” There’s genuine remorse in his voice.
He rolls us in one smooth motion so that I’m lying on top and he’s underneath me, his body a warm, hard plane beneath mine.
“I’ll crush you,” I say automatically as my legs slide on either side of his narrow hips, straddling him. I prop myself up with one hand and start to lift off, but he just chuckles—low and dark and sexy—and pulls me back into place with both hands on my hips.
“Immortal god here.” His hands glide up the sides of my hips to my waist and squeeze possessively. “And you feel amazing. You have no fucking idea.”
He shifts slightly beneath me so that I feel his shaft—hot and hard—against my wet sex. I hiss in surprise, pleasure jolting through me.
When did he pull himself out? Does that mean he trusts that I want him? Even though it’s in fact more complicated than that? And is that a conversation we need to have before we do this?
“Remus,” I start to say, trying to gather my scattered thoughts.
“Do you want this?” he interrupts me to ask, his hands stilling on my waist. His eyes search mine in the lamplight. “Do you still want me?”
“God, yes,” I say honestly. Because I do. I really, really do.
Just the tip of him slides inside—thick and perfect—and we both groan in unison. He doesn’t push for more, though. Withme on top like this, I know he’s giving me the space and control to guide everything.
Don’t think,he said. More like don’t overthink.
Because yes, I want him. I want him exactly like this.
