Page 47 of Legacy Ascended

Luke unbuttons his shirt while Soren pulls his over his head. I stop and stare.

Luke catches me. “Problem?”

“Not even slightly.”

“Take your time looking at me.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I thought so.” He lets his shirt fall, steps close, and kisses my collarbone.

Torres backs me toward the bed, and I sit when my legs hit the mattress. Soren gets in behind me and takes my weight so nothing pulls on my left side, palm flat and enormous across my stomach.

Torres takes my right breast in his hand and puts his mouth on the other, and he does not go gently about it. He sucks, then uses his teeth, and when I arch he rolls my nipple between finger and thumb and pinches, hard enough that the sound I make isn't a word. He does it again, watching my face.

"Do that again."

He does. And again, when I ask, mouth moving between them, until both ache and my thighs have come apart on their own.

Luke kisses me through it, one hand in my hair holding my head where he wants it.

Torres's hand goes down.

He takes his time getting there — over my ribs, my hip, the inside of my thigh — and then he cups me and groans out loud.

"Christ, baby."

"Torres—"

"I know." He strokes through me once, slowly, opening me with two fingers, and I'm so wet the sound of it is obscene in a quiet room. "I know. Hold on."

Then he pushes two fingers into me, and my back arches against Soren.

He works them deep and curls them and finds the place that makes my hips come up off the bed, and then stays there and does it over and over, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit on every stroke.

"More."

"Yeah?"

"More, Torres—"

He gives me a third and it's a stretch and it's perfect, and he starts to fuck me with his hand properly, wrist working, and I'm loud now, and Luke swallows it out of my mouth.

I get my right hand between Luke's legs and close it around him through his pants, and he breaks the kiss to swear into my hair.

"Take these off."

He does, fast, and then I've got him bare in my hand — hot and heavy and already slick at the tip — and I grip him properly and stroke, and Luke Draeven puts his forehead against my temple and makes a sound I have heard exactly twice before.

"Don't stop," he says. "God. Don't—"

"Then don't be quiet."

Torres laughs against my breast and pushes deeper, and Soren's hand slides up and closes over the breast Torres isn't using, rolling the nipple slowly between two fingers with no hurry at all.

I come with Luke's mouth on mine and Torres's hand working between my thighs, hard enough that I hear myself shout into him.

Torres works me through it and doesn't pull out until I stop shaking. Then he lifts his hand, holds my eyes, and licks his fingers clean.