Bloodline Clause #2
I felt the cool, commanding weight of Draco’s hands on the waistband of my own jeans. I whined around Mateo’s cock, trying to lift my hips, but Draco simply shoved me down, his ancient strength absolute. He unbuttoned my jeans and yanked them down past my knees, taking my underwear with them.
The cool air of the car hit my bare, overheated ass. I was completely exposed, kneeling between Mateo’s legs, my face buried in his groin, while Draco loomed behind me.
I heard the wet, heavy sound of Draco spitting into his palm. A second later, a cold finger pressed against my tight, trembling hole.
“Relax,” Draco commanded, his voice right by my ear.
He didn't wait for me to obey. He shoved the finger inside, knuckling deep into my tight ring of muscle.
“Yeah, take it,” Mateo grunted, his hips snapping forward to fuck my mouth, perfectly matching the rhythm of Draco’s finger.
Draco added a second finger, scissoring them open to stretch my walls. The contrast was mind-bending. I was choking on the boiling heat of the wolf in front of me, while the freezing, ancient power of the vampire churned my insides from behind.
“He's so fucking tight,” Mateo growled, looking down at where Draco was working his fingers into my ass. Mateo pulled one hand out of my hair, spat heavily onto his own fingers, and reached down.
“Make room,” Mateo rasped.
Draco shifted his angle, and Mateo shoved two of his own thick, boiling hot fingers directly into my hole alongside Draco’s.
I screamed, the sound entirely swallowed by Mateo’s cock.
The stretch was agonizing, a tearing, blinding fullness that made my entire body lock rigid.
They were sharing me, their fingers tangling inside my slick, ruined hole.
Draco’s cold, calculated thrusts mixed with Mateo’s rough, feral pumping, churning my insides into a desperate, needy mess.
The car hit a pothole, the chassis bouncing, and the sudden jostle drove all four of their fingers impossibly deep. I sobbed, tears streaming down my face, my mouth working frantically on Mateo’s cock as I tried to ground myself in the overwhelming sensory overload.
From the front seat, the heavy, rhythmic sound of harsh breathing suddenly became impossible to ignore.
I cracked my eyes open, peering through the gap between the front seats.
Rowan had one massive hand clamped on the steering wheel, his amber eyes locked on the rearview mirror, watching the filthy, degraded show happening in the back.
His other hand was buried in his lap. His trousers were undone, and he was stroking his own massive, hairy cock with a furious, relentless pace, his jaw set in a tight line of absolute concentration.
“Rowan,” Mateo barked, his voice thick with lust. “Get in here.”
Rowan didn't say a word. He kept his left hand on the wheel, navigating the midtown traffic with terrifying ease, and reached his massive right arm back over the center console.
His hand was huge, his fingers thick and calloused. He didn't bother with spit. He just found the slick, gaping entrance of my hole, currently occupied by Draco and Mateo, and shoved two of his own fingers inside.
The sheer, impossible volume of it completely shattered my sanity.
Six fingers. Three different men. I was being entirely hollowed out, my walls stretched to their absolute breaking point. I shrieked, my hips thrashing wildly against the leather seat, my cock weeping thick, heavy strings of pre-come onto the floorboards.
Rowan’s calloused fingers scraped directly over my prostate, a brutal, unforgiving pressure that sent a shockwave of pure, blinding ecstasy straight to my brain. Draco and Mateo pumped their fingers in tandem with him, a chaotic, devastating rhythm that completely hijacked my nervous system.
“Suck it, Nico!” Mateo roared, his hips snapping forward, driving his thick cock all the way down to my pubic bone. “Suck it!”
I abandoned everything. I threw myself into the act, my throat swallowing him down, my tongue swirling frantically around his girth. I was nothing but a wet, desperate hole for them to use, a toy being passed around in the back of a moving car in the middle of New York City.
The friction built to a roaring, deafening crescendo.
“I'm close,” Mateo snarled, his body going rigid, his fingers curling deeply inside my ass.
“Pull out,” Draco commanded, his own voice cracking with the strain. “On his face.”
Mateo ripped his cock out of my mouth with a loud, wet pop. I collapsed backward, my chest heaving, my lips bruised and slick with his spit. Draco pulled his fingers out of my ass, and Mateo and Rowan followed, the sudden emptiness leaving me gasping and hollowed out.
Draco moved instantly. He grabbed his own heavy, weeping cock, stroking the base with a frantic, desperate speed. Mateo knelt over me, his massive, dark shaft aimed directly at my face.
They came at the exact same time.
Mateo shattered with a feral, broken roar, his hips jerking wildly. Thick, boiling hot ropes of wolf seed shot through the air, splattering heavily across my cheeks, my nose, and my closed eyelids.
A split second later, Draco let out a harsh, guttural hiss.
His cold, pale hands gripped his cock as he shot his own heavy, metallic-tasting climax right over Mateo’s.
The pure, ancient vampire seed mixed with the feral wolf come, painting my face in a thick, sticky, degrading mask of their combined release.
I lay there on the floorboards, my jeans around my ankles, my chest heaving, completely covered in their come. I didn't even have the strength to wipe my eyes.
From the front seat, Rowan let out a deep, vibrating groan. I heard the wet, heavy sound of his hand slapping against his own thigh, followed by a harsh exhale as he finally blew his load.
The car was entirely silent for a long, heavy moment, save for the hum of the engine and the ragged sound of our breathing.
Draco was the first to move. He leaned down, his dark eyes gleaming with a possessive, territorial heat. He pressed his mouth to my cheek and dragged his tongue in a long, slow stripe, tasting the mix of his own seed and Mateo’s.
“Beautiful,” Draco murmured, licking another heavy drop from my jawline.
Mateo didn't hesitate to join him. He leaned in from the other side, his golden eyes blown wide, and pressed his hot, wet mouth to my forehead.
He lapped up a thick puddle of come, his coarse tongue scratching deliciously against my skin.
They took their turns, licking me clean like I was a feast they had just hunted and killed, their mouths hot and demanding as they consumed every drop of their own ruin from my face.
When my face was mostly clean, slick with their saliva, Rowan shifted in the front seat.
He didn't say anything. He just reached his massive right hand back over the console. His broad palm and thick fingers were completely coated in his own thick, heavy seed.
He held it out to me, his amber eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. A silent, absolute command.
I didn't hesitate. I pushed myself up on trembling arms, leaning over the console. I grabbed Rowan’s massive wrist with both hands to steady myself, opened my mouth, and pressed my tongue to his palm.
I licked him clean. I dragged my tongue between his thick fingers, swirling around his callouses, tasting the heavy, musky flavor of his climax. I sucked his index finger into my mouth, cleaning the last drops of his seed from the skin, making soft, pathetic whining noises in the back of my throat.
Rowan watched me in the mirror, his jaw tight, his chest heaving under his suit jacket. When I finally pulled back, my lips shining with his come, he let out a low, satisfied grunt.
He wiped his hand on a handkerchief from his pocket and put both hands back on the wheel.
I slumped back into the backseat. Draco calmly reached down, pulled up his trousers, and adjusted his belt, his composure snapping back into place like armor. Mateo did the same, his breathing finally leveling out.
I pulled my jeans up with shaking hands, my face flushed, my entire body humming with the sheer, filthy reality of what had just happened.
The car pulled up outside Second Life Antiques, the ordinary morning street appearing outside the window like nothing had happened. Like I hadn't just been completely destroyed by three monsters in the span of ten blocks.
The shop smelled like itself, which helped. I stood in the doorway a second and breathed it in, and the band that had been around my chest since the car loosened half a degree.
Remy was in the back with the inventory boxes, making the careful noises of a man handling things he'd been told were worth more than he was. Evie stood behind the counter with the order ledger, and she looked up when we came in, her eyes going to Mateo, then to me, then past us to the door.
Draco had followed us in without my noticing. He stood just inside it with Rowan behind him, taking in the shop.
Evie set the ledger down. “Reed.”
My head came around fast enough to hurt.
“Evangeline,” Draco said.
I looked at Evie. I looked at him. Back to Evie.
“You know each other.”
“Nico—”
“You're on a first-name basis.” I was pointing at him now, and he had the gall to look unbothered by it.
“It's not—”
“Evie.”
She closed the ledger. “It's complicated.”
Remy chose that moment to appear in the storeroom doorway with a box in his arms, read the temperature of the room in about half a second, and reverse back through it without a word.
Draco crossed to the partition and said a few quiet words to him.
Whatever they were, they were short, and Remy came back out without the box and with his shoulders an inch lower than they'd gone in.
Then Draco left, Rowan drew the door shut behind them, and it was just us and the smell of linseed oil and old wood.
“Talk,” I said.
“I can explain—”
“Yeah. You're going to.”
“If you let me finish a sentence.”
“I haven't stopped you.”
“You're doing the face. The face is stopping me.”
“What face?”