That eases his shoulders a little further. “Good.”
And Saint grabs and pulls me against him. I linger in his embrace, soaking in the steady warmth of him. Then he pulls Sin’s vest off my shoulders.
“We’re going to need to get you out of this vest.”
“I like seeing her in my vest.” A perfect deadpan response from Sin.
Saint hands it back to Sin then leans my head back for a kiss. It’s not soft. It’s claiming. When my toes start to curl, he pulls back.
I’m breathless, and my head is swimming a little.
“Doc’s going to check you over.”
I blink at him and nod—my brain not quite firing on all cylinders.
I look at all three of them, overwhelmed and turn to dart for the shower.
I swear I hear them chuckling at me.
Doc is on my heels, catching the door before I can close it on him and shutting us in the ensuite together.
He cups my face, corners me against the sink, and the kiss he lays on me is equally gentle. Not quite like he thinks I’m going to break but like he might fall apart at my feet.
It wrecks me.
When his mouth drops from mine, the desperation shifts. Focused. He’s transformed into the doctor, checking my jaw and throat, pulling up my shirt to check over my skin, but I’m unharmed.
Still, he catalogues the light bruising at my ribs from being tossed over a shoulder.
Doc squeezes both my breasts the next moment, pinching my nipples and tacking onto the need and pleasure simmering in me. His eyes flash at my response.
Then, he’s checking my wrists, the scrapes at my elbows and knees from that concrete floor. His hands smooth down my legs, massaging my ankles and sore feet. The way he tuts at each little mark reminds me of how good he must have been in an ER, with scared patients.
With women abused by their loved ones. I can see the underlying violence in him. The one that wants to tear apart the people who caused me pain.
I touch his cheek, making him look at me. The devotion cleaves me in two.
Then his hands smooth up to the insides of my thighs, tender from Sin’s bike, from Sin’s hands and hips as he pumped into me.
Gaze dropping when I twitch, he draws his fingers over my panties, and the darkness is back as his gaze lifts again. Sometimes, Doc looks absolutely feral.
My breath hitches, drawing his attention back to my hard nipples.
Doc groans.
Then he pulls down my soaking underwear and narrows his eyes at me. “Are you just sitting here full of Sin’s cum?”
I bite my lip and nod.
Doc draws two fingertips through my folds, spreading the moisture around until he sinks both of them into me. My back arches, hips lifting in micromovements to match the slow thrusts before he pulls me to the edge of the counter for better access.
Nostrils flaring, he finally resembles the dangerous biker I’ve learned him to be. Driven and nearly out of his mind as he pumps his fingers into me. I’m extra wet from the cum, but he doesn’t seem to care.
When he curls his fingers, he finds a spot that has me bowing toward him, nails latching onto his shoulders, grabbing his vest. I can’t breathe, the pleasure spiking high—hard and fast.
His low rumbling growl as he stares straight into me has me trembling, scrambling. Like I’ve been starving for pleasure until these three touched me. I’m quickly becoming an addict. Needy. Ready. Wanting more. More. More.
Our foreheads press together as I hit my peak. The smallest noises are squeezing out of me, and I swear his gaze turns molten as I finally break. Pleasure pours into me, locking up my muscles, and I ride that high until I can’t anymore.
