Sylus chuckles darkly, but Koen’s hands shift. Just as I anticipate the first brush of his fingers on my clit, he grabs my hips instead. My gaze flies down to where we’re joined, and I only have time to gasp. He lifts me off his cock and drags me up his body, depositing my dripping center over his mouth.
Then he’s there, and with precise, maddening strokes, he devours me. His rhythm matches my grinding hips, each stroke sending electric shocks through my core, and my body tightens, the pleasure coiling unbearably. I gasp, my thighs trembling, and my climax crashes over me, my walls clenching around him. Then a raw cry tears from my throat, and I shatter.
The room spins, their groans and Sylus’s dark chuckle fading into the white noise of my release, my body shaking as I ride out the ecstasy, utterly consumed by Koen.
When I come down from the high, I glance down at him, panting. Sweat glistens on his brow from holding back his release, and his eyes are wild with desire from helping me find mine.
A moan echoes in the room, and I immediately glance at Sylus, whose hand is moving faster over his own straining cock. It’s then that I realize my hips are still grinding over Koen’s mouth in a slow rhythm not all that different from Sylus’s hand.
With a wicked grin, I move myself back down Koen’s body, grab his cock at the base, and then ease myself back down on him.
My next command comes out as barely more than a rasp. “Come here, Sylus.”
Nicholas chuckles. “The psycho will do anything you want without you having to hypnotize him.”
“True.” Sylus steps up to the bed, the star tattoo on his cock standing out against the veins as he comes close, the musky scent of him mixing with the room’s heady air. I lean forward and take him into my mouth, moaning at the taste of myself and him, salty and warm, as I suck him deep, my tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. He hisses, his hand tangling in my hair, fingers tightening just enough to sting. I reach out and encircle him with my hand and set the pace, controlling every flick and pull while still rolling my hips, making Koen groan beneath me.
Any other time, my control-happy husband would have already flipped me and fucked me hard from behind.
But today, I make the rules.
I pull off Sylus with a wet pop and give him several long strokes with my hand. “Come on my tits.” Just like that, he’s done for, groaning low and spilling across my chest. The heat of his release dripping onto my skin sends a shiver through me, and I clench around Koen.
My gaze locks with his then, and a thrill runs through me at the furrow in his brow and his short, sharp pants. “You’re allowed to come now.”
He obeys instantly, and a deep, guttural groan tears from his throat. He grips my hips, pulls me down on him, and spills inside me, his hips jerking up hard.
The room fills with our ragged breaths, the sound of hearts trying to slow down.
Koen blinks up at me, the haze slowly clearing from his dark eyes, his smirk returning full force. “Well played, Little Thief.”
“Such a good game, wasn’t it?” I rasp, then flop beside him on the bed.
I’m boneless, my skin flushed and sticky, my heart pounding with a warmth that’s more than just physical.
It’s the way they still look at me, after all these years.
Like I’m theirs.
Like I belong.
Hands are on me, caressing and comforting, and then Ace is there with a warm, wet washcloth. He kneels beside me, eyes soft as he cleans me with slow, careful strokes. The cloth drags gently over my skin, down my chest, my thighs, between them, gentle, almost worshipful. When he’s done, he presses a soft kiss to my nose, and I can’t help the small, breathless giggle that escapes me.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, then kisses my forehead, my cheek, each one a quiet promise, before getting up and tossing the cloth aside. The care in his touch lingers even when he’s gone.
“We gotta do more missions if they end like this,” Sylus drawls from the foot of the bed. His dark hair is still a wild mess, and his grin is all mischief, but his eyes are soft.
I laugh, and Nicholas drapes a soft, cream-colored blanket over me. He slides in behind me, and I melt into him like muscle memory.
“Would you rather have another magic show heist in Vegas?” he murmurs, his breath ghosting across the nape of my neck. “Or steal biscotti recipes from nonnas for the rest of your life?”
I smile, eyes heavy, heart full. “Biscotti. Always the biscotti. You?”
“Biscotti,” he agrees on a broken breath, and something in that sound makes my eyes sting.
I turn just enough to catch his gaze, the green softening when I say, “I love our life.”
He smiles, and Koen shifts closer, his hand finding my hip over the blanket, thumb tracing idle circles. Sylus hooks an armaround my legs, his laugh a quiet exhale against my shin. Ace climbs back onto the bed, dropping down beside us, his fingers brushing through my sweaty hair.
