Page 150 of Breathe Like Hell

I pushed back further against the couch cushions, squeezing my thighs together, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. The clenching emptiness inside of me liked watching this.

Both men were breathing harder, so I could more easily tell when Mason started to hold his breath in increments, quickly building up bursts of electric power. Their muscles flexed, stretching and contracting, perfectly shaped beneath their unmarred skin.

The violence between them was almost beautiful—if blood and destruction could be called beautiful.

Beautiful like the curving edges of a bruise, the bloom of purple below skin—not like sunbeams and rainbows glinting through mist. Powerful and ancient and familiar to them both. The way their hands found the other’s bodies looked ritualistic, more of a prayer than a fight.

Again, Micah stole enough of Mason’s senses that he could break free and come to me on the couch again, then scooped me up in his arms and strode towards the stairs, kissing my mouth as he walked.

But the kiss made his focus wane and Mason was already behind us, grabbing my face over Micah’s shoulder, not trying to stop Micah from bringing us upstairs, but trying to stake his claim again.

Proving that I belonged to him, too.

I did.

I do.

Micah kicked open the door to his bedroom and dropped me on the bed, then shoved two of his fingers in my mouth as I settled.

“Bite down, baby girl. Hard as you can.”

I tightened my jaw, digging my teeth into his skin until I felt it break, blood and ichor trickling into my mouth, making my head rush. I moaned with the sensation of the ichor hitting my bloodstream.

Everything went fuzzy, time liquefying, the axis of the whole fucking world shifting until the only thing I was tethered to was Micah’s fingers. I sucked on them more, my tongue lapping around the wound already healing, my whole consciousness nothing more than a delirious blur of need.

I’d missed the feeling of this supernatural twist to my arousal, glistening gold melting into the pink flesh of my seeking tongue.

Desperate fog swirled through my skull as both men surrounded me on the bed, their hands invading my entire form. On my flushed face and on my vulnerable throat, carelessly groping my tits, petting the aching place between my thighs. Every inch of my body was bare for either of them to touch. For both of them to touch.

I kissed Mason sloppily, his tongue in my mouth and my hands in his hair, but it was only a moment before Micah was turning my head, pressing his own hot mouth to mine. I melted into him, kissing him back, gliding my tongue along his, becoming more and more mindless by the second, the ichor glowing on the edges of my thoughts.

Mason started kissing along the side of my throat, moving lower, dragging his tongue along my collarbone then moving to the top of my breast.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured. “All worked up. So greedy. Such a slutty girl.”

Mason’s mouth closed over my hard nipple and I whined, panting and sweating.

“Is this how he talks to you when he fucks you?” Micah was asking, his lips on my jaw.

No. He’s usually worse.

But I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

The effects of the ichor might’ve been wearing off, but my own haze of lust was so powerful I didn’t have a clue.

Micah continued, sinking two fingers into my pussy. “Is all this wetness for me? Or for him? Or both of us? This slutty fucking pussy—” he pulled his fingers out to slap me, the pain sparking on my clit “—just needs to come all the time. You need it so often that you can’t stop yourself.”

“No…” I whined.

“Yes, baby girl. You’re the wettest thing I’ve ever felt.” He pumped his fingers and I could hear how true his words were. His lips moved off my jaw, down my chest. “You’re making a fucking mess on my hand. Pathetic.”

He sucked my nipple into his mouth, Mason licking and kissing the other one, and I moaned like the slut both of them knew I was. My fingers knotted in their hair, my chest pushed up, filthy pleasure radiating from the tips of both my breasts.

There was a shift in angle—Mason and Micah were looking at each other now, still both sucking on me.

They exchanged a look.

What the look meant, I wasn’t sure.