We all do.
“Well,” I say, turning back to Sean. “I can’t break theundertonesof a promise, now can I?”
My fingers find his belt. The buckle is cold against my palm as I work it open.
Sean looks like he can’t believe his luck. His good eye goes wide, then soft, then hungry all at once. “Holy shit. You’re actually?—“
“Shut up, Sean.”
“Shutting the fuck up. Silent as the grave. Which, given recent events, is maybe not the best metaphor?—”
I yank his belt free and he finally stops talking.
His jeans come open easily. I push the fabric down his hips just enough to free him, and he’s already half-hard, his body responding to the promise of touch even before I’ve done anything.
“Fuck,” he breathes as my hand wraps around his knot. “Okay. Yes. This is happening.”
I stroke him once, twice, watching his face as his eye flutters closed. When I lower my head and take him into my mouth, he makes a sound that’s half groan, half begging.
“Regina—fuck?—”
I work him slowly at first. Learning the taste of him, the weight of him on my tongue. He’s thick and hot and already leaking precome, his hips twitching with the effort of staying still.
“You don’t have to—“ He stops, then swallows. “Actually, no, please do have to. Please definitely have to.Ifyou want.”
I would laugh if my mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.
Instead, I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks around him. His hand finds my hair again, not guiding but holding on. Like I’m the only thing keeping him anchored.
His pulse throbs through the vein wrapped around his knot in my palm and I squeeze tighter since he seems to like that. The current of impressively creative profanities that flows from his lips in response is all the confirmation I need.
“Micah.” My voice comes out rough when I pull back for a moment. “Come here.”
I don’t look up to see his reaction. Don’t need to. I can feel his surprise, followed immediately by a surge of want so strong it makes my thighs clench.
I hear him stand and cross the room. Then his hands are on my hips, warm through the thin fabric of my leggings.
“You sure?” His voice is low.
“Yes.”
He doesn’t ask again.
My leggings come down, panties with them, and then Micah’s hands are everywhere. Stroking up my thighs, cupping my ass, spreading me open. I hear him groan at what he finds. I’m already wet and have been since I started kissing Sean, my body responding to the intimacy even when my brain wasstill stuck on supernatural pathology. But it’s getting easier to unwind with each touch.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Micah murmurs.
Then he’s pushing into me, slow and steady, and I have to stop what I’m doing to Sean just to breathe through the stretch.
“Please don’t stop,” Sean begs. “I was so close to?—”
I shut him up by taking him back into my mouth.
The rhythm is awkward at first. Me on my hands and knees on the chaise, Sean propped against the arm with his cock in my mouth, Micah behind me setting a pace that’s just this side of too slow. But we figure it out.
Micah’s thrusts push me forward onto Sean. Sean’s hand in my hair keeps me steady. The three of us find a rhythm and move together like we’ve been doing this forever.
Through the bond, I feel them both. Sean’s pleasure rising in sharp spikes, Micah’s slower and deeper, building with each thrust.
