Chapter 24. Ambrose
Unfortunately for all of us, my body had very definite opinions about its current limits, and those limits meant we moved through the house at a snail’s pace. Whatever electric, barely contained sexual tension we’d built up was left simmering back in the kitchen.
Blaise stayed close, one hand steadying my elbow, the other warm and grounding against my back, while Caitlyn filled the time by giving me a breathless, slightly chaotic tour of the house.
I was grateful for it.
Not just for the distraction as my body moved slowly through the house, but because I was an early riser by nature, and absolutely the type to explore every nook and cranny when dropped into a beautiful, if deeply unsettling, new home.
First was the greenhouse, where Caitlyn proudly pointed out her carnivorous plant named Mordi, whom she addressed with the fondness of a doting parent.
Beneath it sat a pile of slimy bones. Mordi quivered at the sight of me in a way that felt as though it were considering whether a six-and-a-half-foot incubus might fit in its maw. Caitlyn didn’t seem to notice.
The living room, as I’d noticed earlier, had clearly been arranged for an evening spent tangled together on the couch, the first episode of Hexes at Noon—Blaise’s favorite show, and apparently Caitlyn’s too—queued up on the laptop.
There was a dining room, a snug, and an eerily empty room with a large blood-like stain on the floor, and then the upstairs landing, which continued the house’s dedication to taxidermy, dark wood paneling, and the distinct sensation of being watched.
The bathroom stopped me in my tracks—all claw-footed elegance and Victorian charm—and I immediately filed away plans for a very long bath at some point in the near future.
The attic door stood out for all the wrong reasons.
Knee-high scratch marks scored the wood, and the brass knob was dull where every other handle in the house gleamed from use.
It radiated a firm, magical Do not enter.
Caitlyn confirmed it was Creep’s room—a strict no-go area where she only half-jokingly speculated the bodies were hidden.
A handful of spare bedrooms lined the corridor after that.
Then, finally, we stopped at the last door.
“And this,” Blaise said, wrapping his fingers around the doorknob, twisting it, and swinging the door open, “is our bedroom.”
Our bedroom.
The words sent static skittering over my skin. How many times had I lain alone in my room in our old apartment, wishing for an our room?
And our room was stunning.
Like the rest of the house, it was paneled in dark wood, faded, muted floral wallpaper stretching between the panels and the ceiling.
Decorative tables and chests of drawers lined the walls, and plush chairs were tucked into every corner—many of them burdened with careless piles of discarded clothes belonging to both Caitlyn and Blaise.
My fingers itched to fold them all properly, to put things in order, but that would have to wait until morning—until I had my strength back.
As if to remind me that my obsessive-compulsive cleaning instincts were firmly off the cards for tonight, my knees wobbled, forcing me to reach back and steady myself on the nightstand.
Both Caitlyn and Blaise made a subconscious move toward me, only stopping when I lifted a hand to show I was fine.
From my position at the nightstand, I had a perfect view of the bed.
It was enormous. The four posters rose almost to the ceiling, their dark wood carved with subtle, curling motifs worn smooth by time.
Heavy drapes framed a mattress, layered high with quilts and pillows, clearly built for bodies meant to sprawl, tangle, and linger rather than sleep politely at opposite edges.
“Don’t be fooled by the size of the bed,” Blaise said, amusement lacing his tone as he jerked his head toward Caitlyn. “Get used to sleeping on the edge. This one likes to starfish. And there’s no escaping the snoring.”
Caitlyn hit him playfully across the shoulder.
She wore a sheepish grin as she thrust her hand into the pouch of her overalls. When she pulled it out, something small was clutched in her palm. She flicked me an apologetic glance before saying, “Sorry, Ambrose. I only ordered one pair because, y’know... didn’t know I’d need two.”
She opened her palm to Blaise. Nestled there was a small box, the words Hushbuds+ – drowns out all magical noise as well as snoring! written across it in swirling, glittery letters.
Blaise chuckled, his hand lifting to cup Caitlyn’s cheek. She flushed as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling back. Still smiling, he plunged a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants and produced an identical box.
“I ordered them after the first night,” he admitted. “They arrived while you were out gathering supplies.”
Caitlyn snorted softly. “Of course,” she muttered, handing her box to Blaise. “Guess Fate was planning ahead.”
Blaise reached past me to set the boxes on the nightstand. His arm brushed against mine as he did, close enough that I felt the heat of him, close enough that his breath curled against my neck when he straightened.
His gaze met mine.
And just like that, the sexual tension snapped back into place.
Blaise’s golden eyes lingered on me, dipping to my lips, then my chest, then the unmistakable outline of my cock straining against my pants. He finally tore his gaze away and shot Caitlyn a look—an unspoken invitation. An opportunity for her to decide.
Was she ready for this?
Did she need more time?
Did she want to watch?
Did she want to join?
Caitlyn, cheeks flushed and breath catching, took a seat on the edge of the bed, her eyes flickering between the two of us.
Our mate wanted to watch us.
Fuck.
Her sweet, heady desire flooded the room, lacing through Blaise’s scent, and all I could think as I drank my mates in was that I could fucking drown in them.
I couldn’t resist any longer. Bracing myself against the nightstand, I lifted a shaky hand to the buttons of my shirt. My fingers fumbled for a moment—
And then Blaise pushed my hands away.
His lips brushed along my jaw as he worked my buttons, trailing down my neck, over my chest, coming to a stop above my heart as his fingers pushed my shirt from my shoulders.
And then he stopped.
Just as I was on the verge of begging him to keep going, he picked up my crumpled shirt from the nightstand behind me—and folded it.
Fuck.
Fuck.
There had to be something wrong with me, because Blaise folding my clothes should not turn me on this much. But, Gods, there was a very real chance I’d come in my pants before he ever reached them if he kept this up.
And as if he could sense exactly how much it affected me—which, I reminded myself, he absolutely could—the corner of his mouth twitched into a teasing smile.
Then he dropped to his knees.
I didn’t even care that he placed the neatly folded shirt on the floor beside him instead of on a clean, untouched surface, because his hand was already sliding down the back of my thigh, tracing over my calf, before lifting my leg to rest my foot on his knee.
He undid my laces, easing the too-small boot from my foot, then my sock.
He repeated the process with the other foot, setting my boots neatly side by side.
He gathered my socks, aligned the hems, and—Gods, why was this so fucking erotic?
—folded them into one another—and fuck, if he folded my pants along the seam next, I was definitely not going to last.
In a bid to calm my thundering heartbeat, I glanced up at Caitlyn... which had the exact opposite effect.
She sat there, her heated gaze fixed on us. One strap of her overalls hung loose where she’d undone the button, her fingers squeezing her breast as she watched unapologetically.
Fuck.
Blaise’s fingers returned to me—first the buttons of my pants, then the zipper, then the hem. And before I could ask him to slow down, before I could warn him that I wouldn’t last if he didn’t slow the fuck down, he dragged both my pants and underwear down over my hips.
My gaze dropped to him, just in time to catch the heated look on his face as my cock bounced free, and he pressed the flat of his tongue to the underside of my length, dragging it slowly upward, inch by agonizing inch.
Then the intrusive thoughts burst free.
I hadn’t showered since last night, when Isadora had instructed me to. Shame coiled tight in my gut that she could still intrude on my thoughts in a moment like this. My mind snagged on it, absurdly wishing I’d had the forethought to ask for that bath before—
Blaise’s soft lips wrapped around my weeping crown.
He let out a groan so primal it reverberated straight down my length.
The scent of his desire billowed off him, thick and overwhelming, and suddenly I wasn’t embarrassed anymore.
I barely managed to lift my hand, my fingers threading through his silky blond strands, before he sank down on me—the entire length of my cock disappearing into his mouth in a single, devastating motion.
I was sure actual words tore from my throat, but the thunder of my pulse in my ears drowned them out.
I’d pictured this moment as many times as there were stars in the sky, and not one of those fantasies lived up to the reality.
His movements were gentle yet hungry. Saliva welled in his mouth, creating the perfect slide as he bobbed his head, the tip of my cock bouncing against the back of his throat every time he took me in, and—fuck—I really, really wasn’t going to last.
My eyes flicked, unbidden, to Caitlyn.
She’d loosened the second strap of her overalls, the fabric pooled low around her waist. One hand still cradled her breast, while the other was hidden beneath the corded material gathered at her hips, her fingers moving in time with Blaise’s mouth as she stroked herself.
And that was all it took to have me ready to fall off the ledge.
Pleasure licked up the back of my spine.
My head tipped back, the heat of Blaise’s mouth, the soft graze of his teeth along my length, only feeding the inferno about to unleash itself.
My fingers tugged at his hair, the words “Blaise, I’m about to—" dying on my tongue as his hands wrapped around me, one flat against my back, the other gripping my ass as he took me even deeper.
“Fuck—” was all I managed to grind out as pleasure consumed me.
Blaise stilled, my cock pressed deep in his throat as he swallowed around the first pulse of cum that hit the back of his mouth.
My fingers dug into the back of his head, my body folding in on itself as pleasure tore through every fiber of me, dispelling hunger along with every thought except how fucking good this felt.
Blaise didn’t move, his throat working as he guided me through my orgasm, and Gods—we could have been doing this for a fucking decade if I hadn’t been such a fucking idiot.
And only when the final pulse of pleasure left me, my body no longer weak from hunger but heavy with emotional and physical exhaustion, did Blaise finally pull his mouth from me.
But instead of a sly grin or an inappropriately timed joke, he lifted my feet free of my pants before folding them neatly along the seams.
“I love you so fucking much.”
“I know,” he said, getting to his feet, his fingers tracing gently down my arm before his fingers entwined with mine.
“I love you too. And I love our mate, who has been very patient up until now,” he said, flicking his gaze over his shoulder to Caitlyn, who’s entire body had frozen, one hand still in her pants.
Blaise’s voice dipped low, seduction dripping from every word. “Let’s reward that, shall we?”
Fingers still entwined with mine, he guided me toward the bed. He only let go once he was sure I wouldn’t topple off it. As I shimmied to the middle of the mattress, Blaise turned his attention to Caitlyn.
His fingers wrapped around her wrist. He tugged gently, pulling her glistening fingers free from the fabric and lifting them for inspection.
“Did you enjoy watching me suck his cock?” he asked, before his lips latched around the tip of one of her fingers. He pressed it into his mouth with the same deliberate motion he’d used on me, and a whimper slipped from her.
“Yes,” she breathed.
His eyes fluttered closed as he savored the taste of her.
My mouth welled with saliva, and what I wouldn’t do to taste my mate’s wetness from watching us off her fingers too.
But the sight of Blaise’s lips letting go of her finger, and the wicked grin on his face, had me wanting to watch them just as much.
“Do you think he’ll enjoy watching me use my mouth on you just as much?”
He slid a second finger into his mouth.
Caitlyn’s eyes flicked to me, her gaze lingering on my cock—rock hard, a pearl of precum beading at the tip in anticipation of watching Blaise go down on her. She nodded, her voice crackling as she returned her gaze to him.
“Yes.”
He released her fingers. His palm spread across her chest as he pressed her back into the bed, the other hand lifting her hips. In one smooth, fluid motion, he dragged both her overalls and panties down and tossed them aside in a crumpled heap behind him.
Caitlyn gasped at being exposed so quickly, but there was no time for embarrassment.
Blaise hooked his arms beneath her legs, drawing her to the edge of the bed.
He dropped to his knees, one of her legs slung over his shoulder, the other lifted and pressed against her chest—giving me a perfect view as he dragged his tongue between her glistening folds.
Caitlyn squirmed against him, her hips bucking with each flick of his tongue.
He teased her relentlessly—circling her clit, then dragging his tongue through her folds again, dipping the tip into her slick opening and holding it there, pulsing inside her until a whimper tore free—before sliding back up to her clit once more.
It was all I could do not to stroke myself, the bead of precum now trailing down my length, because I needed to last longer than my first orgasm.
But my resolve shattered when Blaise shot me a wicked, teasing glance and slowly dragged his finger down the back of Caitlyn’s thigh.
My hand closed around the head of my cock, gathering the trail of precum before I drew my fist slowly down my length.
My dick pulsed against my palm as he traced lazy circles over the globe of Caitlyn’s ass, his eyes flicking to me as if he were waiting for me to start stroking myself, to set the rhythm for what he was about to do next.