Lorenzo is at my side, his mouth on my breast, sucking my nipple until it’s hard and aching.
Rex grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his cock, making me wrap my fingers around the thick shaft. He’s so big I can barely close my hand around it, the skin silky and hot. He strokes himself with my hand, grunting in satisfaction.
Alaric leans over me, his blond hair spilling onto my chest. He kisses me, slow and deep, his tongue sliding into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me. When he breaks the kiss, he bites my lower lip, tugging it until I moan.
Marcus is behind me, cupping my ass, spreading me open. I feel his beard against my skin, his breath hot as he nuzzles the crease of my thigh. My pussy gushes, slick pooling under me, soaking the sheets. I can’t control it, can’t hide the need. The five of them close in, hands and mouths everywhere, touching, tasting, claiming.
“I’ve been thinking about this tight little ass all day,” Marcus growls, leaning down to whisper in my ear. His breath is hot against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “Going to fuck it until you can’t walk straight. Going to fill it with my knot until you’re dripping with my seed.”
My asshole clenches at his words, my body responding without my permission. I’m mortified by how much I want exactly what he’s describing.
Lorenzo moves between my legs, his handsome face level with my dripping center. He looks up at me, brown eyes twinklingwith mischief, and says, “I want to drink your pussy. I’ve been starving for years.”
Then his mouth is on me, his tongue flicking expertly over my swollen clit. I yelp, my back arching off the bed as pleasure sears through me like lightning bolts.
I jolt awake, the echo of my own cry still ringing in my ears. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I’m disoriented, unsure for a moment what was dream and what was reality.
I clutch at the sheets, breathing hard.
The bathrobe has fallen open in my sleep, leaving my legs exposed to the cool air. I’m covered in a thin sheen of sweat, my nipples painfully hard, my pussy aching with unfulfilled need.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize I’m not alone.
Lorenzo stands in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the faint moonlight streaming through the windows. He’s shirtless, wearing only loose pajama pants that hang low on his hips. Even in the dim light, I can see the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the perfect golden tan of his skin. His brown curls are tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.
“Anya?” His voice is thick with concern. “Are you okay? I heard you cry out.”
My face burns hot with embarrassment as I realize he must have heard me moaning in my sleep. I clutch at the edges of my bathrobe, trying to cover myself, but it’s too late—his eyes have already dropped to my exposed legs, traveling slowly up to where the robe gapes open at my chest.
“I’m fine,” I stammer, my heart racing. “Just had a weird dream.”
He steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. The click of the latch sounds impossibly loud in the stillness of the night. He moves toward the bed with that samefluid grace all these men seem to possess, his eyes never leaving mine.
“A weird dream?” he repeats, the corners of his mouth lifting in a knowing smile.
I watch as his nostrils flare subtly, and his eyes darken instantly. He inhales deeply, and I remember with a jolt what the others said about being able to smell my arousal.
Oh god, he must be able to smell how wet I am right now.
“It was nothing,” I insist, pulling the robe tighter around me. “Just a nightmare.”
He sits on the edge of the bed, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. His fingers toy with the hem of my bathrobe where it rests against my thigh. “Are you sure about that? It didn’t sound like a nightmare.”
I bite my lip, trapped in his intense gaze. He’s close enough that I can smell him—that strange, intoxicating scent of mango that seems to emanate from his skin. It makes my head spin, my thoughts becoming foggy and indistinct.
“What’s happening to me?” I whisper, the question escaping before I can stop it. “Why do I feel like this around all of you?”
“Like what?” he asks softly, though the knowing look in his eyes tells me he understands exactly what I mean.
I swallow hard, struggling to find words for the overwhelming sensations coursing through me. “Like I’m burning from the inside out. Like, I can’t think straight. All I want is...”
“Is what?” he prompts when I trail off, his finger now tracing small circles on my exposed thigh.
“To be touched,” I admit, my voice barely audible. “It’s never been like this before. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”
Lorenzo is quiet for a moment, his nostrils flaring again as he studies me. “We all feel the exact same wayaround you, Anya. This is what happens between mates. Our bodies recognize each other on a primal level.”
“But I just met you,” I protest weakly.
