63. Vesper #3
I roll my eyes. “You’re insufferable.” I reach my hand out. “Help me up and I’ll get it over with.”
He shakes his head. “I need to feed first.”
“Why?”
“Call it my nature,” he says, grinning. “If I kiss you while I’m hungry, I might do something your boy toys will kill me for. And I’m not ready to die yet.”
Locke sits up and pulls out his knife. “Here—”
“Don’t,” Stryker hisses. “There’s no need to cut yourself, Boney Boy. I’m not some feral beast. Have some class.” He grabs Locke’s wrist and brings it up to his mouth. “Steel yourself.”
Locke rolls his eyes. “Just get it over with.”
Stryker grins and his eyes slam into mine as he holds Locke’s wrist close to his mouth. “As you wish,” he purrs and then flashes his fangs.
His eyes never leave mine as he sinks those teeth into Locke’s skin, as blood wells and he seals his lips around the wound.
Locke throws his head back and groans. “Fuck,” he moans, his other hand clenching in the material of his trousers.
“Does it hurt?” I ask, worried.
“No,” he starts to pant, his eyes flickering with hunger. “No.”
He reaches over and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, dragging me to him.
His lips slam into mine, the kiss aggressive as his tongue dances with mine.
His hand is tight on the back of my neck as he holds me to him, and then he starts to drag me onto his lap.
I straddle his waist, his hard cock pressing against my core through our clothing as he starts to grind me down on him.
He breaks the kiss to tilt his head back again, his eyes closed. “Harrow, take me,” he pants, his fingers tight on me as he holds me to him.
“My turn,” Stryker coos as he moves around us.
I go to move off of Locke and he stops me, his hand on my shoulder.
“No, Beastie,” he purrs. “Stay right there.”
He strokes his fingers up my neck to my jaw, cupping it as he tilts my head backward while he kneels down beside Locke.
“Do you feel his cock pressing against you?” he coos. “Will you fuck him right here while you kiss me?”
I open my mouth, not sure how to answer. Because if they stripped me bare right now . . .
Yes. Yes, I would fuck him right here. Even with Havoc standing silently to the side. Even with the pigeons still slamming against the wall outside. Even with . . .
Stryker chuckles. “Such a hungry, little Beastie.”
And then he leans down and presses his lips to mine.
The metallic taste of Locke’s blood immediately dances across my tastebuds and I arch my back, a little zing going through my body at the depth of it. But that thought disappears entirely when Stryker begins to kiss me.
His tongue sweeps in immediately, claiming me in a slow, languid way that only he could pull off.
His hand strokes around my neck and into my hair, positioning my head so he can deepen the kiss.
His tongue goes deeper, almost probing, almost too deep, and I move to pull away, but his hand holds me fast.
I reach up and circle his neck with my hand above the collar, squeezing to let him know he’s not entirely in control here. He chuckles against my lips, but doesn’t stop the kiss. If anything, it becomes more aggressive, hungrier.
“That’s enough,” Locke growls, his voice garbled.
Stryker stops moving and then runs his tongue along my teeth, leaving me with one last press of his lips before he leans back enough for me to breath.
I’m panting as I stare into his eyes, my body humming with pleasure, and I’m not the only one. Locke’s body is as hard as rock beneath me, his fingers tight on my thighs.
Stryker smirks at me, his eyes tracing my face. “It’s inevitable,” he murmurs.
“What is?” I ask, breathless.
“One of us will be damned by the other,” he whispers. “Because there’s a chasm between us that will never be bridged.” He runs his fingers along my jaw. “Because I can’t trust you. And you will never trust me.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “What does that even mean?”
“It means, I’m sorry.”
My chest squeezes. “For what?”
“For being the one who’ll win,” he chuckles.
I scowl and shove him away from me, jerking my chin out of his hand. “Fuck you, Leech.”
“Oh, I intend to,” he purrs as he straightens. “Over and over—”
“Enough,” Havoc growls. “If you three are done tongue-fucking, we can figure out what we’re going to do.”
Svetlana appears on my shoulder. “Though I did very much enjoy the show.”
“Right, Girl?” Stevie says, flashing brightly. “That was so hot, I’d have soaked my panties if I had ’em.”
I laugh and run my hand along Locke’s shoulder. “You okay?” I ask, making sure he’s not too weak.
“Fine,” he murmurs, his hands still tight on me, his cock still hard beneath my body. “Just . . . don’t move for a second.”
I do as he asks, settling on his lap while looking over my shoulder at Havoc. “How long does the pigeon swarm last?”
“Four hours,” he grunts.
My eyes widen. “We’re not going to have enough time to make it to the Harrow Gate!”
“I know,” Havoc growls, running a hand through his hair. “Which means we have no choice.” He meets my eyes. “We’re going to have to take the automobile.”