My need burns straight down to my belly, leaving me flushed, but I fight to keep the hungry fae inside me at bay.
“Are you sure about this?” I whisper.
Basten tips my chin up. “Sometimes, we have to say fuck it and jump, not knowing what’s on the other side.”
He interlaces his fingers with mine. The bundle of fey nerves in my palm, the one that’s always winter-cold?
For once, it warms.
Heat pours through me, dripping over my skin, pooling in my core. I can’t seem to lick my lips enough to keep them moist.
I unlace our fingers and drag my hand, exploring, up Basten’s arm. Goosebumps erupt wherever my fey sparks against his skin. I marvel at it, how his body reacts to my caress.
How in sync we are.
Finally.
“What do you want, goddess?” he says, low and wicked.
I drag in a rasping breath, looking between the two of them. “I want you, Basten. Your hands on me. Now.”
“Praise be,” Basten murmurs in a wicked voice that’s anything but chaste.
He clutches me around the waist, his touch burning, his own fingers shaking with need. Gods, it feels good to know he wants this, too. This union between us.
He crushes his mouth to mine, nipping and biting and licking as though he’s starved for me. His hand slides low on my hips, fingers tightening possessively in the fabric.
I tilt my head back and moan, “Both of you.”
Rian sinks to his knees and buries his face in my skirt, breathing in my scent deeply, moaning in response.
I arch my back, breasts pushing against Basten’s rock-hard chest, and a groan tears out of his throat. He pulls away, breathing so hard it rasps in his throat, and presses his forehead against mine.
“Fuck, little violet. The things you do to me.”
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and I lean into his hold, panting against the cool, dark air. Keeping my eyes locked to Basten, I grab Rian by a fistful of his hair.
“You,” I command. “On the throne.”
Rian pushes to his feet, so eager to please he’s stumbling, his hair mussed and messy, but for once he doesn’t comb it back into place. He sinks into the throne and kicks out his legs, leaning back, eyes simmering.
I gather handfuls of my skirt, dragging the heavy fabric up to my thighs, and sink my ass into his lap. His hand falls around my waist, pulling me closer. Gods, he’s hard. His erection digs into my ass with relentless insistence.
The rumors of his endowment?
Thoseweren’t a lie.
He wraps his hand around the length of my neck from behind, fingers pressing gently into my throat. I lean back against his chest, bunching my skirt around my hips, never once breaking eye contact with Basten.
Rian needs to learn his place. If he wants to be in our lives, it’s either below or beside us—never above. He’ll have to earn that place. Prove he can follow instead of stealing control.
“Pray to me,” I order him.
Rian runs his lips against the side of my neck. “Let me serve you, songbird. Say the word, and I’ll bare my throat, my heart, every damn piece of me.”
A ripple of pleasure—of power—shudders up through me.
Rian pulls away, only to trail a kiss along my opposite jaw. “Tell me where to touch. Where to kiss. How to please you until you’re too weak to stand.”
