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He glances at Damon. “I bet I can get her off faster than you can.”
Damon laughs, the huff of air hitting a sensitive patch just above my knee. “Like this? Good luck, Beastly.”
I gape at them both, shocked and turned on by the steady, no-nonsense eagerness on both of their faces. “You… you both want to—do that? But what if I—I don’t know—crush you?”
They look at each other and stifle laughter, but Cassian’s eyes are kind when he gazes up at me. “You’re light, butterfly. I think both of us are capable of holding you up.”
Silly. Of course they are. But I still bite my lip, looking from Cass’s face to Damon’s, which is just inches away from my center.
“What if I suffocate you?” I blurt.
His grin spreads slowly. “Then, on my tombstone, I want it to say, ‘Here lies the luckiest fucker on Earth.’”
A nervous titter escapes me. “Okay, okay. We can try it, I guess. But what about Cass?”
My bear’s green eyes glow. “Don’t worry about me.”
He and Damon share a look that can only spell trouble, but I don’t have much time to contemplate it. Because ten seconds later, Damon shifts under me, scooting down to put his face right between my legs.
I shake as I gaze down at him while he stares up at the juncture of my thighs in absolute rapture. “Goddamn,” he mutters to himself. “Prettiest pussy on the planet. And you smell like heaven, sweetness. Can I have it? Please?”
Panties in bed have been outlawed. It was, in Damon’s words, his “one and only alpha power trip.” I suppose that’s paying off now, as he guides my hips down and finds my bare skin with his lips.
Cassian’s chest vibrates with a suppressed growl. “Tell me how her cunt tastes.”
When I tense up, Damon chuckles. I feel his smile against my inner thighs while he mumbles, “She hates that word.”
Cass looks to me for confirmation. Seeing my pout, flashes his rare grin. “Sorry, butterfly.”
His eyes are light and teasing, but the squeeze he gives my thigh is sweet. I expect him to maybe get on his knees and touch me while Damon licks me; but, instead, Cass reclines with his arm folded behind his head, entranced.
I’m about to balk when D’s fingers tighten on my naked hips, fisting my nightgown out of his way and tugging me straight down in one powerful motion. I gasp, his full lips and the prickle of morning stubble vibrating against my mound.
“Fucking perfect,” he mutters, low and pained. “Gotta have it, pretty girl.”
His tongue sweeps out at that same moment, lapping a smooth semi-circle over the top of my clit. I whimper, swaying forward automatically. He hums his approval, pulling me down harder.
The slick heat of his tongue tracing up and down, his thick lower lip teasing my slit while the upper lip rubs at my clit. It feels incredible, but I can’t shake the feeling that it must be uncomfortable to him.
When he feels my thighs shake, he groans and pushes my hips down harder. The next lash of his tongue slips into my pussy, and I whine. The sensation is so much better than I ever imagined—and being able to ride it instead of lying back makes it feel even dirtier.
Cass purrs, though it sounds ragged. “That’s my girl,” he praises, reaching down and pulling his thick cock from his boxer briefs. “Ride his tongue. I bet you taste like heaven.”
Lapping up a fresh burst of slick, Damon growls his agreement. The sound sends a vibration over my sensitized skin. My body clenches, trying to tighten around the tease of his tongue.
And then?—
I’m in the air.
There’s no time for me to panic before Cassian grabs my waist in his left hand and rips Damon’s right hand away with his own. With a tug and a lift, I go from straddling Damon’s face to mounting Cassian’s.
“What—” I start to gasp, but there’s no time. Cassian latches his lips to my clit and sucking hard.
Every nerve in my body sparkles, while the tension in my core coils tighter. A wail rips out of me, the sound fading into a high-pitched shriek when he begins circling his tongue around the bud he’s still pulling into his mouth.
Beside me, Damon pants quietly, grabbing his knot with both hands. In some distant part of my mind, it occurs to me that he isn’t angry, or even annoyed. Which means they must have coordinated this, somehow.
I can’t find the brain space to care how, or why, or what that means—as long they don’t stop.
