Ophelia stared at me when I broke the kiss. Her lips were swollen, and her eyes wild.
“Oliver. On the bed. Now.” The words came out like the command they were.
He obeyed without question, crossing to the bed and sitting on the edge. His cock was hard against his stomach, his whole body taut with tension. He was waiting. They were both waiting.
I looked at Ophelia. “Remove my shirt.”
Her hands trembled as she reached for the buttons. She fumbled with the first one, then the second, her fingers clumsy with anticipation. I stood motionless and let her peel away the armor I’d expected to wear forever.
My shirt fell open, and she pushed it from my shoulders. It dropped to the floor.
The first touch of air against my bare skin made me shudder. Then her hands were on me, palms resting on my skin, and I had to close my eyes against the intensity of it.
It had been so long since anyone had touched me like this that I’d forgotten how it felt. The intimacy of skin against skin. My nerve endings were overwhelmed by the sensation they’d been denied for so long.
“Kiernan.” Her voice was soft. “Open your eyes.”
I did.
“You’re shaking.”
“I know.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No.” The word came out rough. “It’s too much. It’s not enough. I don’t—” I stopped, unable to explain the war raging inside me. The part that wanted to devour her whole. The part that wanted to run before I destroyed her.
She rose on her toes and kissed me again, soft and slow. “Take what you need,” she whispered.
The last of my resistance collapsed.
I lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bed, laying her down next to Oliver. They looked up at me—naked and wanting and waiting—and I felt the coiled tension inside me release.
I unfastened my belt. Let my trousers fall, and stood naked before them.
Ophelia’s eyes roamed down my body, lingering on my cock, hard and aching and desperate for touch. Oliver’s gaze darted away, then returned, his jaw tight.
“Lie beside her and touch her,” I told him. “Her breasts. Slow.”
His thumbs brushed across her nipples. Ophelia arched and moaned, making my cock throb.
I climbed onto the bed and positioned myself over her. My mouth found her throat, her collarbone, then traveled lower. Every kiss was a reclamation of what I’d denied myself for too long.
“Suck her nipple. Hard,” I told Oliver. He did, and she cried out.
I kissed down her stomach, across her hip, and settled between her thighs. The first taste of her made me groan.She was wet and wanting, and I’d forgotten—God, I’d forgotten what this was like. The intimacy of it. The power. The ecstasy of giving pleasure.
“Kiss her,” I told Oliver. “I want to hear her moaning into your mouth.”
Their lips met as I worked her with my tongue. The sounds she made were muffled by his kiss. I pushed two fingers inside her and felt her clench around me, her whole body quivering.
I could have stayed here for hours and never ask for anything in return. It was what I always did—giving without taking. But this was different. So different. I drank in her essence, felt her tightness squeezing my fingers.
She’d told me to take what I needed, and fuck me if I didn’t need.
I lifted my head and shifted my body. “Oliver. Between her legs. Your mouth where mine was.”
He shifted without hesitation, positioning himself where I’d been. He lowered his mouth, and she cried out when his tongue found her clit. His technique was rougher than mine, but her body didn’t seem to care.
