Chapter 59
Dakota
I went down the stairs and rounded the banister, padding into the kitchen for dinner. Mason took one look at me then stared down at his hand gripping a glass of water. Micah’s eyes slid over in my direction. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what’d maybe, almost happened on the couch.
“You look good,” Micah said, surprising me in a way. I half-expected him to be pissed about what I was wearing for dinner.
I wasn’t indecent, but it wasn’t an outfit I would wear in public.
I had on my tiniest cotton sleep shorts and a long sleeve white top—thin enough to see my nipples through.
It was meant to provoke a reaction. Good or bad, just something.
I wanted to fuck shit up. My whole life was already on fire, what was one more canister of gasoline?
I sat at the table across from Mason, noticing the way he stared at my tits for a good minute before taking a sip of his water.
Micah already set the food on the table, so I picked up my fork and started eating, slowly because the food was hot. He joined Mason and I, then all of us were eating in silence. I fidgeted in my seat, more affected than I wanted to admit by the fact that both of them could see my nipples now.
“Lab work?” Mason asked, though it was obvious he didn’t care.
“Fine,” Micah answered. “Dakota’s been helpful.”
There seemed to be even more tension between the two of them than usual, and I found my eyes bouncing back and forth between them while they spoke. Their conversation felt almost cryptic in a way, like there was another layer to it I was incapable of decoding.
I focused on my meal.
When I glanced up, Mason was staring at my chest again, his hunger barely masked.
I wanted Micah to yell at either one of us for being so blatant.
I took a huge gulp of my water, tempted to spill it on myself and make my shirt even more sheer.
I set the glass back on the table with more force than necessary, rattling the plates.
“Need something?” Micah questioned.
I need someone to fuck me.
“No.”
I was confused by Micah’s lack of anger or possessiveness.
I couldn’t stop fidgeting. The tension in the house had been suffocating me for weeks, only getting worse as time went on, crawling down my throat and choking me the past couple of days.
Micah obviously wanted something from Mason, or the other way around.
The conversation lulled, all three of us eating without speaking again, forks scraping plates that were steadily becoming empty. I was barely tasting my food. My skin was too tight, warm all over. I’d gone past the point of insanity all the way to numbness, and I was desperate to feel again.
The silence dragged on…and on…and on…until I was about to break another glass, just to make Micah do something. I couldn’t take the waiting, the anxiety, the tension. If my life was about to implode, I didn’t want to delay it.
I stared at Mason’s empty plate, dragging the tines of my fork across my own, pressing down harder until it made a screeching noise.
“Stop,” Micah said, grabbing my wrist to put an end to the disturbance.
I peered up at him, heartbeat in my throat.
“Why are you doing that?”
With my fingers, I managed to tilt the fork another half-inch, a sharp noise grating through the air. A muscle flexed in his jaw.
“Upstairs.” Micah said abruptly, letting go of my wrist as he stood up. My stomach dropped. “Both of you,” he added.
I didn’t dare look at Mason. My cheeks were on fire, matching the heat in my belly.
“Why?”
“Don’t make me ask again, Dakota.”
I swallowed, eyes locked on Micah’s, but his thoughts were hidden behind the impenetrable blue. All I could do was trust his words, without knowing his reasoning for them. It was what I’d wanted, after all.
Getting to my feet, I wiped my palms on my shorts, moving to clear my plate.
“Leave it,” Micah ordered, halting me. Carefully, I set my plate and silverware back on the table, my pulse running wild. Micah nodded for me to go towards the stairs, so I did, hearing Mason following both of us.
Either he was about to confront me about my relationship with Mason, or initiate some twisted sex. No matter what, it would be a punishment. I wasn’t naive.
Not anymore.
I caught a quick glimpse of my reflection in a mirror as we passed through the living room, catching the flush staining my cheeks and the two men following me. My lips rolled together and I stared down at my bare feet as I reached the stairs and began my ascent. God, I wish I could read minds.
Micah’s hand on the small of my back guided me into his bedroom. The sun had begun to set so it was getting dark, everything shadowy and dim, bruised with shades of deep purple.
“Where’s your knife?” he asked and my heart lurched.
“My bag,” I breathed, fingers trembling.
“Get it.”
I obeyed. Mason was standing in the doorway, watching the scene with far less confusion than I’d anticipated. Clearly he knew something about what Micah was about to do. Had they planned this? Or was it an angel thing I didn’t know about? Maybe they’re about to kill me for knowing too much.
My fingers wrapped around the knife and I brought it over to Micah, who took it and flipped the blade open, then carved a line across his palm.
I gasped. Mason blew out a harsh exhale, my eyes shooting over to him. He was gripping the top of the doorframe, his head hanging down, tension bunched in his shoulders.
He was breathing hard now.
I looked back at Micah and the blood dripping down his wrist, glinting with gold.
“Lick my palm,” Micah said, my eyes going wide.
Mason groaned at Micah’s instruction for me, stepping fully into the room, then slammed the door behind him, making my stomach flip. He swore under his breath, tipped his head back against the wood. A million questions sat on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t ask a single one.
I didn’t want to lick the blood off Micah’s palm; I’d never been into that, but this didn’t exactly feel optional.
He cupped the side of my face with his clean hand, towering over me. Tentatively, I stuck my tongue out, keeping eye contact as I leaned forward and dragged a small line through a drip of blood. The moment my flesh made contact with the liquid, something powerful flooded my synapses.
“In small quantities, ichor can be a drug to humans,” Micah murmured, but I was hardly listening. I’d never felt like this in my life. I lapped up the rest of the stream that’d trickled down his wrist as an unbearable heat pulsed wickedly through my body.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, grabbing his forearm for dear life.
It felt like the gravity in the room had shifted, liquefied, and everything was blurred with a soft glow. The scratch on Micah’s hand was already healing and I found myself wanting to cut him again, just so I could get more ichor on my tongue.
“How’s that feel?” he asked lowly, digging the point of the knife into his thumb. “Good?”
I nodded, desperately reaching for his hand, sighing when he smeared the pad of his thumb along my lower lip. He tightened his grip on my jaw when I darted my tongue out to lick directly over his small wound, then let go of me.
“You’ll follow my instructions, understand?”
“Yes,” I moaned. I trust you when I shouldn’t. I always trust you.
My eyes rolled back, a rush flooding my veins, making my head foggy. Even without whatever the ichor was doing to my brain, I wouldn’t have had any reservations about doing this. But with it…everything felt different. Better. Time slowed and sensations magnified.
I felt hands on my waist, tugging up the hem of my shirt. My arms raised on instinct, goosebumps scattering across my skin as someone pulled my shirt up and off. Micah, probably. I didn’t think he would let Mason do that.
I forced myself to open my eyes and stare up at Micah, placing my palms flat on his chest. He rested his hands on my waist, bloody fingers pressed into my skin.
My heartbeat was way too fast now and I was breathing hard, remembering Mason was in the room, watching this.
Micah wasn’t making him leave.
I was topless and Micah was letting Mason see that. Is that bad?
Another set of hands grabbed the waistband of my shorts and my eyes widened, pulse fluttering painfully, heat racing between my thighs.
I kept my gaze desperately locked on Micah’s as Mason slowly dragged my shorts and underwear down at the same time.
He tapped my ankle to make me lift my foot, then the other, the rest of my clothes now discarded on the floor.
Micah’s thumb was back in my mouth before I could think anything of my nakedness and I was licking it, licking up every drop of ichor I could get. Tingles raced over my skin, making me shiver.
I felt Mason step up behind me, his clothes barely brushing my bare skin.
It was so dark in the room and all I wanted was to feel.
The ichor was muddling my brain, ridding me of any thoughts of what consequences may come of this.
I simply didn’t care about anything except the electric throb between my thighs, the heat in my belly.
They were both so tall and strong and warm and they weren’t really touching me, but the possibility of that was making me ache everywhere.
Micah snatched a dark bundle of something—rope—from his bed and I found myself wondering just how much of had been was planned prior.
Without him asking, I offered my wrists.
He began to neatly bind them together, taking his time tying every methodical knot.
I could hardly see what he was doing through the darkness but he could see. Mason could see.
When Micah finished, he took a step back, leaving me exposed and shaking. I could feel Mason still standing right behind me.
“Lift your arms above your head,” Micah instructed. I did it, stretching my bound wrists up towards the ceiling. “Now put your hands around the back of his neck.”
Before I could question, Mason stepped forward, gripping my waist with one hand and guiding my arms backwards with the other so the rope rested behind his neck and his chest was against my back.
My face was on fire, my eyes round and terrified.
I didn’t dare move an inch, didn’t dare look away from Micah’s eyes as he stared at me.
“Is he hard?” Micah questioned.
Mason held my hipbones, pulling me back so my ass was very flush with his groin. His cock was digging into my ass and I couldn’t help pushing my chest out, spine arched, breasts heaving with every rapid breath. My nipples were hard, slickness dripping between my thighs.
I nodded helplessly.
“Does he feel big?”
The ichor made me brave, and I nodded, whining pathetically.
“You like that?” Micah asked, tilting his head.
It was such a dangerous question, but he’d know if I was lying. So I nodded again, a nervous sweat flushing along my spine.
“Should I let him fuck with you a little bit?”
Please.
Mason lowered his head, his breath hot on the shell of my ear. “Bite me,” he whispered, sticking his first two fingers in my mouth.
I bit down, hard enough to make him bleed, ichor gliding down the back of my throat.
“No,” Micah cut in, making my face pale.
“You listen to me, not him.” Slowly, I opened my mouth again, Mason’s fingers sliding past my lips.
My eyes were glassed over, my entire body drawn up taut like a rubber band.
“Don’t touch her yet. Not until I say.” Micah was talking to Mason, but looking at me.
My insides went molten. Watching him dominate me was one thing, but watching him do it to another man…
“You’re trembling, Masters,” he said, pacing a few steps nearer. “Maybe I should let him touch you until you stop.” He lowered his voice. “You want to know how far I’d let this go? Keep watching.”