I suck the tip into my mouth. Ciprian moans, Malach rumbles, Celine gasps, and Alistair laughs out loud. “Advantage to the angel of judgment.”
I pull off reluctantly. Ciprian’s shirt has ridden up, and his abs bunch as he sits up and crashes his mouth into mine. The kiss is hot, open-mouthed, and playful. “I want you so bad,” Ciprian says. “Do you have any idea how hot you are?”
I thrust into his hand as we make out. His grip on me is confident—almost rough—but his hair is soft against my fingertips as our tongues tangle. A tingle runs down my spine.
“Dammit, Malach,” Celine says. They hurtle through the crowded space and land again with a crash that rocks the entire treehouse.
Alistair tilts his head. “I’m not sure who has the advantage.” Ihear him, but I don’t care who’s winning anymore. I’m too far gone.
Pulling Ciprian to his knees, I press his length against mine. “Fuck, you feel good,” I grunt.
He kisses me again, and my eyes drift shut.
“Eyes on me,” Ciprian demands, rolling his finger over my piercing. “I want you to know who’s touching you.”
My eyes snap open, and the heat in his molten black eyes makes me shudder. “I know exactly whose cock I’m holding,” I say.
Malach groans Celine’s name, then says something in their language. A glance over Ciprian’s shoulder dries my mouth out completely.
Celine has Malach pinned, knees braced on either side of his head. His green eyes are glazed, and something tells me he’s in no hurry to get free. I wait for Alistair to call the shift in advantage, but he’s not watching them anymore. He’s staring at us. Hunger makes the lines of his face harsh.
“Ali,” I say. “Come here.”
He leans forward, then stops. “Casanell?”
Ciprian detaches from my neck and shoots a challenging glare at Alistair. “What?”
“Can I?” Alistair gestures at us, hopelessly awkward and so unlike himself that I can’t help smiling. Watching Ciprian hold a grudge while fighting his attraction to Alistair is peak entertainment. The two of them are fire and gasoline.
“Ask nicely,” Ciprian says.
A muscle in Alistair’s jaw ticks. “Please let me join you.”
Ciprian shrugs. “Sure.”
Alistair crawls to us. I lick my lips as he grabs the base of my shirt and tugs it off. After a moment of hesitation, he yanks Ciprian’s shirt off too. His hands fall away from him assoon as the fabric drops to the bed, but not before I see goosebumps spreading along Ciprian’s ribs.
Celine and Malach knock the table over, which is impressive, considering it was bolted to the floor. It slides against the wall; splintered legs pointed toward the ceiling. Stubborn and competitive is a hell of a combination, and the two of them have an endless supply of both.
Alistair kisses my neck, and Ciprian roughly claims my mouth.Attention, he hates sharing it.With Ali, it’s an even more sensitive subject. Fangs scrape my throat, almost but not quite breaking the skin, and Alistair’s black hair grazes Ciprian’s chin.
I’m burning up.
They’re ridiculously sexy.
But I need more. “Are you going to bite me, Ali?”
He pulls my free hand to his mouth, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin on the inside of my forearm. “Do you want me to?”
“Fuck yeah.” I gasp as Ciprian twists his hand.
“Beg him for it,” Ciprian says to me.
I’m not a submissive guy, but he sounds half-ruined, and I’m obsessed with sending him the rest of the way. I want Ciprian to think about this moment every time he closes his eyes. When he touches himself ten years from now, I want him to imagine my cock sliding against his.
“Please,” I say, blood rushing to my face. “I need you to make me come so hard I forget where the fuck we are.”
I expect him to bite my wrist or neck, but Alistair surprises me when he drops to his belly, braces himself on his elbows, and kisses the vee of my lower stomach.
