“Think about it, two of us inside you, filling you up, worshipping you the way you deserve…” his gaze flicked to Heathcliff, and I knew he was imagining it all, their cocks so close inside me, practically touching…
And I wanted it too, my body aching for it. But I knew I wasn’t ready. All of this – sharing them – was so new, I needed time to understand what it meant before I let him unleash his full deviant self upon my body.
“I’m not saying no,” I said. “But I am saying, ‘not tonight.’ I’m not ready for that yet.”
Morrie looked like he wanted to argue, like he was ready to lay down a series of convincing expostulations he’d prepared ahead of time. He flicked his eyes to Heathcliff again, and when he flicked back, that moment was gone.
“Can I at least make you come again while Quoth is inside you?” he asked.
“Yeah…” I grinned. “You could do that.”
Morrie lay on the ground and beckoned me to kneel over him. I planted my hands beside his hips, on all fours, facing the blazing fire. With a hand on my lower back, Morrie guided me lower, until I was right over his mouth.
“Get in position, birdie,” he said, his breath against my swollen clit almost sending me into another release. “Tonight, we’re going to make Mina fly.”
Quoth slid inside me, filling me completely. As he drew out and buried himself deeper, Morrie’s tongue swirled around my clit. Each touch placed perfectly, making my veins sing with music. Morrie could play me like an instrument and when he joined with Quoth – it was like a whole fucking symphony playing inside my body.
As Quoth slammed into me, twisting his hips to drive even deeper, Morrie pushed a finger in alongside him.
“Oh!” I cried out.
It took everything I had just to stop my legs giving out beneath me. The idea of two of them inside me like that, it just… it just… by Isissssssssss…
Fire consumed me as I came. My body liquified, and I slid off Morrie and puddled on the rug. Heat rolled over my skin, every sensation mapping on my body and inside me, on my soul.
“That was… amazing,” I breathed. The guys tucked their bodies in around me, forming a nest. Heathcliff pressed his chest to my back. Morrie lifted my head and rested it on his stomach, while Quoth wrapped himself around my legs, his arm draped protectively across my torso. The four of us slotted perfectly together – puzzle pieces that fit.
“I love you guys so much,” I whispered. The truth of it squeezed my heart. “Everything feels less scary when you’re around.”
“You don’t have anything to be afraid of,” Heathcliff growled. His chest rumbled.
“No, not at all,” I said sarcastically. “Only going blind, losing the shop, seeing an innocent woman go to jail, and having to do battle with Count Dracula. Nope, nothing to be afraid of at all.”
“We’ll always protect you,” Quoth said. He glanced at Heathcliff and Morrie. “Won’t we?”
“Always,” Heathcliff added.
Morrie’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything. Up this close, I could pick out his features in the flickering firelight. Even though he smiled, his eyes were a million miles away.
“You’ve already proven that you don’t need us to protect yourself, gorgeous,” he said, averting his gaze. “You’re clever and resourceful and creative and if anyone is going to find the murderer, save this shop, and thwart a centuries-old vampire, it’s you.”
With Count Dracula on the loose, I needed all three of them by my side. I needed Heathcliff’s rage and Morrie’s cunning and Quoth’s kindness. But Morrie was pulling away. Would he be the first to leave the harem? How on earth would I be able to let him go?
Chapter Twenty-One
“Hurry up, Morrie. It’s just my mum’s stupid fitness patch event. You don’t need to dress up.”
Morrie descended the stairs, his tailored trousers perfectly pressed, his jacket lapels as sharp as knives, and that familiar evil glint shimmering in his eye.
“Sorry, gorgeous.” Morrie ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “You can’t rush perfection.”
I shoved him towards the door, where Heathcliff and Quoth already waited, both looking equally gorgeous – Heathcliff in dark jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket, Quoth in dress pants and a blood-red shirt that picked up crimson highlights in his hair, which trailed down his back like a river of spun silk. “Get that perfect arse into the car. We’re late. I need to get there before my mother is talked into leasing a yacht.”
“Should we leave a key under the mat for Grimalkin?” Quoth asked as I shrugged my coat on over my latest creation – a black sheath dress that I’d artfully shredded around the waist and hem, and added a cascade of glittering rhinestones. It had been another impossibly quiet day in the shop, so I’d made up the dress while Heathcliff finished Danny’s book, Quoth painted, and Morrie fiddled around with something on his computer. It would have been a wonderful day if it wasn’t for my lingering worry over… everything.
“No. Serves her right for not deigning to show up,” Heathcliff growled. “If she comes home, she can squeeze through the cat door, same as always.”
Quoth looked like he wanted to argue, but of course he didn’t. Honestly, I agreed with Heathcliff. Who drops the kind of bombshell Grimalkin gave us yesterday, then just ups and leaves for a whole twenty-four hours to stalk through the night doing Athena knows what, instead of helping us try and figure out a solution?
