I’d kill them if they tried, Donnelly snarls inside my head, possessive and feral.
I lean back down, mouth at Kayla’s ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, voice low and unapologetic as I thrust deeper. “You wanted real,” I tell her, punctuating each word with a snap of my hips. “This is it. They’re watching every inch of you come apart, pet. Let them.”
She sobs my name – mine, not Ghost’s – the sound broken and desperate as she clutches at me like she’ll splinter if I stop, her body arching up to meet mine, slick with sweat and need.
I don’t stop. I can’t. Not when she’s like this.
I make sure everyone hears exactly what she needs – every moan, every whimper, every breathless plea.
And that I’m the one giving it to her, claiming her, marking her as mine with every thrust, every bruising kiss, every whispered command.
A SECOND SKIN
Bloodstream - Stateless
Kookaburra
I’m still catching my breath when it finally registers how quiet the room has gone.
Too quiet.
Ghost – Donnelly – eases back, eyes blown wide, devotion and fracture still clinging to him like a second skin. I stay where I am for a moment, chest rising and falling, letting the aftershocks settle into something manageable.
From the direction of the big bed, Bones’ voice cuts through the haze.
“Kayla,” he says calmly. “You need to come back to bed.”
I smile without looking at him. “Who said I’m done?”
There’s a pause. A shift in the room. Then?—
“Who said you’re joining me to sleep?”
That gets my attention.
I turn, slow and deliberate, meeting his gaze. He’s propped on one elbow, expression unreadable, eyes dark with intent rather than rest. Hatchet is behind him in the armchair, watching me with that focused, wordless intensity that always makes my skin prickle. Honeymonster lounges in the other bed, relaxed, amused, already clocking where this is going.
Good.
I walk to the bed and climb in without asking permission, settling myself right in the centre like I own the space – because I do.
“I didn’t wake everyone up for a nap,” I say lightly. “That would be rude.”
Bones exhales through his nose, something between a huff and a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“I know.”
His hand lands on my thigh – grounding, possessive – and his thumb presses in just enough to remind me exactly how well he knows my body. “Look at you,” he murmurs. “Still hungry for more.”
I tilt my head, smiling. “You love that about me.”
Hatchet shifts. Just once. Controlled. Watching.
I turn toward him, hook a finger into his collar, and tug him forward until he has to stand. His breath stutters. He doesn’t look away.
“Daddy Hatchet,” I murmur, testing the words. “Join us.”
The effect is immediate.
