“Ohhh, lord. Seeing her take your cock is damn hot,” Rutger rasped. “Fuck-ing hot.”
She felt him run a wetted finger or two to her asshole while Vargr kept screwing her slow, his big hand wrapped over her neck. Rutger pushed, wormed those fingers in, using her own moisture to lubricate them. The double sensation warped her mind. It always did.
Rutger switched them out and pushed cock at her instead. After a minute or two of determined shoving, he breached the muscle circle. Her mouth fell open and she clutched at Vargr, fingernails digging into his muscles. Her pussy clamped tighter onto him, she whined at the pain, and her clit… her clit throbbed madly.
“Damn!” Vargr said. “You in? I feel you, for sure.”
“In.” He pushed again and invaded her ass, cock slowly travelling deeper. “Not far. Fuck it. Girl is too tight. Next time… dildos,” he gasped.
She smiled and wanted to cheer them on, but also wanted to justfeel.
However far he managed to penetrate, the two of them in her was nirvana personified.
They fucked her remorselessly, and the double occupation of her holes swelled sensation through her that nothing else had ever surpassed. Hands clutched at her. Hot breath poured over her skin. Males pressed her to them, held her, shoved their cocks deep, made her take them both and she cried out at pain, pleasure and the need… to be theirs.
After Vargr’s last immense thrust by Vargr and spilling of his seed, Rutger followed, roaring as his cock erupted, expanded into spikes, and spurted come, jetting into her. It spilled from her as they moved, and thrust in one more time. Both fully in her.
She stayed in their great and sweaty embrace, listening to their and her gasping, the slickness of sweat and come on her, dripping, the sweat trailing beads down her back.
And Rutger swiped at her skin, wiping away that sweat, and he withdrew. Slowly he pulled out, so as not to hurt her, she assumed.
She laid her forehead on Vargr’s chest, listening to the flutter of his wings, as he rearranged them.
“When you’re ready,” Rutger said, and he must have wiped at his face from the sound, “I did find a good room. There’s water too. Better than this car yard. You can clean her butt of that blood too.” He drifted his fingertips over her ass.
Oh yes. Blood.The sting from the wires was a small background whisper compared to everything else she was feeling.
“After that we can rest,” Rutger added as he picked up clothes.
“Tomorrow we need to go help Willow read those papers. I want to find out what you are, Cyn.”
She looked up and nodded, her chin rubbing on his skin. He was still inside her, and she wasn’t ready to speak. Vargr was sounding more normal. Then she let her tongue lick a trail up his chest, and she smiled at him. She didn’t mind him, crazy or not. He tasted good.
52
Maura cameto them toward dusk, the flashlight she held illuminating the corridor. She was distraught and babbling. At first Cyn was more concerned that Locke wasn’t with her, that maybe something had happened to him, but then Vincent hove into view behind Maura, and she realized he too looked distressed.
“It’s Willow,” he told them, and he gestured at Maura.
The woman took a breath and this time her words made sense. Willow was missing and there were dead beasters in her apartment. Blood everywhere.
Her stomach, the floor, everything sank from beneath her, leaving Cyn feeling as if she floated on dread.
No. This could not be. She dressed on the way, drawing on shirt but only holding her leggings with Rutger and Vargr alongside. Though Maura kept up, Vincent was slower. He’d catch up.
She’d slept in her underwear curled up with her guys. It had been bliss. But not now.
They had weapons drawn and ready as they eased into the apartment Willow had claimed. A foot-soldier lay in his own blood in the hallway, having cut his own throat.
“The Lure,” Rutger said, not taking his eyes off the area ahead where more bodies were visible, more blood.
“No.” She gulped. “None apart from the normal background. But I can smell skinsuits.”
“They must be gone then. Because everything, everyone, ahead looks dead.” Vargr said what she feared.
He walked forward, gingerly, with his rifle leading.
He was right, though, Cyn saw as she passed the end of the corridor. The kitchen to the left had been empty, the hallway too, but this larger living space was filled with bodies. Three more lay dead by their own hands from appearances. Blood came from throat wounds.
