Chapter 4 #3
Memories of scents linger in my nose. One belonging to a tall, sandy-haired soldier and another with pretty blue eyes.
I think about their scents and their built, strong bodies as I thrust my fingers wetly in and out of my pussy.
Then I think of them above me, their lips upon my flesh, their weight pressing me down into the bed.
“Please. Goddess, please.”
They are outside the door. Close. My strange, fuzzy intellect latches onto this point. They are right outside. And I need them. Why do they not come in?
“Please help me.” My voice is a low, weak rasp. My fingers still move stickily in and out. Only it does not take me toward the culmination the way it did before. It leaves me wretched.
I snatch my fingers away with a sob. It erupts from my chest, filled with self-pity and need.
The bedroom door slams open. Rafe is standing in the opening, his expression wild, his eyes intense. Another shadow lurks behind him—Lark.
I hold out my hand. “Please, I don’t—I don’t understand.”
He covers the small distance in quick steps and takes my hand. “Get her a cool cloth,” he barks at Lark.
Lark curses and strides for the basin, where I hear the splash of water.
“We’ve got you, lass,” Rafe says. “Just lie still.”
His hand in mine is an anchor holding me steady amid this choppy sea. I like that he instructs me when I feel like I don’t know what to do next.
“I’m hot,” I say.
“I know, sweet girl.” He brushes damp hair from my face, takes the cloth from Lark, and puts it against my forehead.
“That feels nice,” I whisper. Then I moan, and my hips lift of their own volition. Even the covers feel too much—not soft enough, a little itchy against my sensitive skin. I thrust them aside with a huff.
“Gods,” Lark says gruffly.
“Cover her,” Rafe says.
Lark curses and pulls the sheet over me… which I do not like at all, and I immediately kick it away. “No.”
“Brat, your ass is going to be sorry if you don’t put the cover back.” Rafe’s stern voice makes a gush pour from between my thighs, even as it builds a well of defiance.
Rafe growls. Lark chokes back a laugh. “We shouldn’t have come into the fucking room.”
“The lass was sobbing,” Rafe says. “I cannot leave her in this state.”
They are talking to one another, and they are not paying attention to me. This pleases me about as much as the stupid cover did. “Hot,” I say. “Too hot.”
My fingers go back to my pussy. That squelchy sound as I plunge them inside is utterly filthy. It makes me giggle, and both men freeze.
Only my hand doesn’t feel right anymore, and I’m thinking about Rafe’s hand there—how much broader his palm is than mine, how much bigger his fingers are. So, with my other hand, I take his.
I meet resistance once he realizes my intended destination. My eyes flash to meet his for the first time since he entered the room. Lark is perfectly still at his side. He does not interfere nor offer an opinion.
“Don’t,” Rafe says barely above a whisper, a clear warning in his voice.
“Please help me.”
His hand does not yield.
“Please. I cannot stand it. I know you will take care of me. I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” Rafe says. “You really should not.”
He is wrong. Instincts exist within me. The same ones that drew me to them right from the start.
Ones I trust. The same ones that told me Elijah was a bad man the very first day we met, and long before what came to pass with my omega sisters.
Those same instincts tell me these men are good and true, and that I can trust them, and that they will take care of me in this.
Their scent saturates the air. It merges with mine to create a potent cocktail. My body is in a state of fever. One that has demands that must be assuaged.
“Take care of me,” I whisper. “I beg you.”
His groan is one of defeat. He lets me put his hand where I want it, and how good it feels just to have his palm cupping me there.
That is enough for the longest time, to feel him against me, his big, roughened palm and fingers against my most intimate place.
I hold him there fiercely, lest he decide to take it away.
But then it is not enough. And I grow restless.
“Gods,” Lark says thickly. “The lass is drenched. Mayhap Violet might feel more comfortable if one of us were to… clean this little mess all up.”
“We can’t,” Rafe says thickly.
Terror grips me that he is going to change his mind, that he will withdraw his comfort. I whimper.
“The lass is hurting,” Lark says. “Don’t you dare walk away.”
“I’m not going to,” Rafe grits out. “But, Gods, I’m only a man.”
“Then fucking help her,” Lark says. Standing tall, proud, and determined at Rafe’s side.
My guardian is willing to push his case with a more dominant male.
“I cannot watch her suffer. I’m in control of myself, and I know you are too.
You really want to leave her alone? Are you willing to take that risk? ”
Rafe sighs, long and slow. “No, I’m not willing to risk any harm coming to the lass.
” His hand trembles faintly against me. Then his middle finger moves—oh so slightly, a gentle side-to-side as the thick digit presses gently between my folds until his fingertip is right against my pussy entrance.
His hand slides forward, and that single finger plunges deep into me.
I arch my back, hips lifting… With gentle force, he holds my hips against the bed.
My cry is pure wanton.
“Aye, she likes that,” Lark says darkly. “Look at her. Lass always did get a spark in her eyes whenever you turned into a bossy bastard with her. Mayhap it’s in her nature. Needing to be dominated. Given she’s—”
“Shut the fuck up, Lark.” Rafe’s tone is more exasperation than anger. His other hand cups my cheek tenderly.
Rich intimacy envelops the moment. His finger is inside me. I’m pulsing around him, fluttering, tingling, sweet, achy pleasure. And Lark is right here, watching what Rafe does, watching his friend push a finger into me as I lie spread open like an offering upon a bed.
“More,” I say.
A crooked smile slides over Rafe’s features. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this on my terms. And we will go fucking slowly. Even if it kills the three of us.”
Lark spoke true. I both love and hate Rafe’s natural authority in equal measure when he gets that stern voice and tells me how it is.
My pout is filled with fake outrage. Lark laughs, low and husky.
“Aye. Better make yourself useful, Lark,” Rafe says. “Something tells me her behavior is going downhill fast.” And then he slides his finger out of me.
I lie panting helplessly as he withdraws his finger, smothered in my slick, and stuffs it into his mouth with a groan.
“Gods,” Lark says weakly.
I cannot look away from Rafe’s face as he licks every drop from his finger.
“Go ahead, Lark,” he says. “Go ahead and clean our filthy princess all up.”
I have a terrible notion he’s going to go to the basin for a fresh cloth.
“My fucking pleasure,” Lark says. Only he doesn’t seek a fresh cloth. Instead, he takes up a position between my spread thighs at the bottom of the bed, shoving the last of the covers aside.
“Keep your legs nice and wide.” Rafe’s lips curve in a smirk. “Mayhap Lark’s got a lot of practice at this.”
Rafe’s amusement fades as Lark’s hands slide up my thighs. Lark lowers himself slowly, watching me the whole time, pausing with his thumbs inches from my pussy, and his head lowered, poised. “Is this all right, Princess? Is this all right if I clean you up like this?”
My mouth is hanging slack. My eyes are very wide.
He means to—
Goodness.
I have heard rumors—fleeting, overheard conversations with maids—about their lovers doing things like this to them, but never thought I would experience it myself. I nod, slightly dazed and definitely interested.
“The words, lass,” Rafe says gruffly. “We know what is happening—that you are succumbing to heat. Your thoughts are scattered. You are subject to powerful needs. But give us the words as best as you can. Now, do you want Lark to put his mouth on your pussy? To clean up the filthy mess you have made, and to make you feel good?”
“I do,” I say. “Please. I beg you. I do.”
With a sigh, Lark presses his lips against me there. He groans, and his tongue slides through my wetness. And then he buries his face against me and purrs so loudly that it vibrates against me.
Goddess weep… I didn’t know… Couldn’t possibly have imagined… My hips rise, seeking more.
Lark throws an arm across my waist and pushes me back down before he continues his sweet torment of my intimate flesh.