“I need to move,” I pant.
“Fuck, you both feel so fucking good,” Cassian grits out, staring at where the three of us are joined. “Move, love. As much or as little as you want. This is all about you.”
It may be all about me, but I’ve never seen Cassian so turned on as when I rise and then sink back onto their cocks. Their cocks slide together in my cunt, my slick flowing freely now, easing the way for their thickness. I bounce on my knees, each stroke steady and deep, winding me higher and higher. Saints, I’ve never felt so connected to the two of them, so cherished, so adored and desired.
I bounce a bit faster, chasing my orgasm now as the two thick heads of their cocks stroke inside my cunt, Cassian’s pressing up against my front wall, while Simon’s teases my estrus gland.
There’s a gleam in Cassian’s eyes I’ve never seen before. Saints, he’slovingthis, maybe as much as I am. I lean forward enough for them to fill me at a new angle and stare down at Cassian, feeling like a queen as I ride their cocks. I slip my hands down my body, one squeezing my breast while the other travels lower. I rub my clit in a slow circle, whining as the desire builds inside me. Cassian just stares at me, his dark eyes intent on mine, intent on my body, watching me as I play with myself. I rub my clit until my breath hitches into shallow pants and then bounce down hard onto their cocks.
I come apart with a scream that’ll surely wake my other mates if my whines and moans haven’t already, but I don’t care. I’m so turned on, so needy. Simon slips free from my cunt, and I whine at the sensation of missing him inside of me, but just seconds later, Cassian comes with a jerk and presses his thick knot inside me, filling me up once more.
“Not done with you yet, kit-kat,” Simon says, kneeling behind me and lining his length up with the cleft of my ass. When he parts my ass cheeks and runs a thumb over my tight back hole, I whimper, suddenly needing him inside me as much as I needed Cassian’s knot.
“Please, please, please,” I plead.
“So pretty when you beg,” Simon whispers in my ear before nipping at my ear lobe. “Such a good girl for us. Are you ready for me?”
“Yes!”
Simon pushes into my ass, filling me faster than Ian did earlier, and I let out a sharp cry of pure pleasure. He fucks me, just a bit roughly, justperfectly, his cock brushing Cassian’s knot through my body.
“Love the feel of you, Junes,” Simon moans. “Can you come on Cassian’s knot for me? You know he loves it when you do that.”
I nod vigorously.
“Good girl. Stroke your clit again. That made him so fucking hard. Made him feel so good in your body for me.”
I whine but immediately drop my hand to my pussy, circling my clit with the tip of my finger. I throw my head back onto Simon’s shoulder and he presses hot, open mouthed kisses over Cassian’s bite. If it were anyone else kissing his bite, even another one of my mates, I’d be repulsed, but because it’s Simon, my body sings with the pleasure of it.
I come with a shout, squeezing around Cassian’s knot. Simon follows my orgasm with his own, pumping hot cum into my ass. He pants for a moment before withdrawing, and then gently settles me down over Cassian’s chest.
“That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Ian says from where he and Luca were watching us.
“For real,” Luca mutters, his pale green eyes still wide. He offers a fist to Ian, and Ian bumps it with his own.
Best. Heat. Ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Simon combs through my freshly conditioned hair, undoing the knots and tangles as he works through my blond strands. He’s done this since my winter heat, and I love the quiet moments with him as I recover. My heat broke this morning, but I’m still exhausted. I sag back in the chair at my vanity, letting out a sigh of pleasure. I ache in the best ways possible, feeling very well loved—and very, very well fucked.
His phone chimes with a news alert, and he ignores it, continuing to comb through my hair.
“It could be important,” I tell him, turning in my chair. “You can check. I won’t mind.”
“It can’t be more important than you, kit-kat.”
“Just check it.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket and pauses before flicking his phone open to the live news feed. He sets it in front of me so we can both see it, and I immediately wish he hadn’t. While the anchors speculate, a damning line of text runs across the bottom of the small screen: Council of Ninemember, Annette Claude, was killed coming out of the Hall of the Council of Nine this morning.
“Details are still coming in,” the anchor says, “but sources say that Baphomet’s Prince, the leader of the Soldiers of Saint Aldous, has claimed that his organization carried out the assassination.”
“Can you zoom in on the video?” I ask as a clip of shaky cellphone footage is shown beside the newscaster. Simon pinches and zooms, then tilts his phone until the clip fills the screen. In the clip, an alpha in black clothing puts his hands on the steps of the Hall of the Council of Nine, ice flowing from his hands. He’s surrounded by a cold mist, so his features are hard to make out, but I can just see the curling horns of a Baphomet mask. The steps are flooded with ice, despite the warm summer weather. For just a glimpse, a body is shown, unrecognizable for all the frost covering it.
“Annette,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “She was just talking to Gerard at the graduation party. Beth and I were eavesdropping, and now she’s… now she’s dead, frozen to death by an alpha?”
Simon clicks his phone off and pockets it. “You’ve seen too much already.”
