He yanks me down, hard, and we both let out a shuddering groan. He’s so fucking deep.
I never want to forget it.
He pulls me up, slowly down, up. He’s using me to languidly fuck himself, and I’m enjoying every filthy second.
“Look at you, gripping me so fuckingtight.” His gritted praises make my eyes roll. “Gonna come for me? Gonna stop being such a brat and follow my order, huh?”
He turns my face and kisses me hard, then he thrusts. Somehow deeper.
He increases his pace and intensity. I start moving with him, feeling him hit that deep spot inside every damn time.
His thumb brushes over my clit, never stopping, even when our pace becomes frantic and our mouths can’t keep up.
The second I feel it hitting, when everything tightens, I sink downhard. I cry out, my vision blurs, my body shakes, but Ezekial slowly rocks us through the blissful wave.
Then the liquid fire begins, rushing up my spine, but it’s less painful than it was with Kane, eased through my orgasm.
And the way Ezekial murmurs my name like a lost prayer, giving me soft little thrusts as he fills me with his hot come—soothes it further.
Just like with Kane, the pain is quickly overshadowed by a feeling of release, a subtle change in the air. A ripple in the bond.
We’re all pants and desperate breaths, revelling in the sensations I’m amplifying as I twitch around him. Then he grabs my face, and devours my mouth like a starving thing that needs my breaths to survive.
“How do you feel?” he breathes, but I can’t answer, because he keeps kissing me. “Do you need something? Are you—”
I silence his concern with my mouth, eating away his worry with my tongue.
We keep kissing, until it becomes hungrier, harder and when his hips move again, slowly thrusting up, I question if the man ever stopped being hard.
“Already?” I whisper, but I’m smiling.
“That was just a warm up,” he murmurs, meeting my smile with his own, but his is all teeth and trouble. “For this.”
I frown, caught on the sly tilt of his smile. “For wha—”
A chill licks up my spine, stealing my words.
Chapter 54: Jasmine
As I turn, my eyes land on his brother.
“Be good for us,” Ezekial whispers in my ear.
For a second, I think it’s another illusion, that he’s melding my mind again.
But then I meet Kane’s eyes.
That predatory gaze can’t be faked. It drags over me, between my legs, over my pounding chest, my flushed face—devouring every piece.
Kane prowls closer and Ezekial starts moving again. I fall back into him, the delicious ache between my legs somehow being soothed by every shallow thrust.
“She did so well, brother,” Ezekial murmurs against my cheek, like I’m not even there.
Which is somehow ridiculously hot.
I barely feel present. The aftershocks of my orgasm still ripple through me even as Ezekial brings me to another.
Kane steps closer, appraising me with those dark, dangerous eyes.
