4. Chapter 4 #3
I get his shirt off him. There's more of him than there was in April — Frosthaven has a mountain and he clearly spent the summer on it — and I put my mouth on his chest and my hand down the front of his jeans and take hold of him, and the noise he makes is worth everything.
"Jess."
"Off."
Behind me, Luke is undressing without any urgency, which is a thing he’s doing specifically to make me insane, and it is working.
I get Torres onto the bed and get my mouth on him, and he swears in two languages and gets a hand in my hair gripping hard, and I take him as deep as I can and hold there until his stomach jumps.
"Wait—" His hand tightens. "Wait, wait, I'm not doing that yet."
I come off him with my hand still moving. "You're not?"
"I've had four months of ideas," Torres says. "We're doing at least six of them."
He flips me.
I end up on my hands and knees in the middle of my own ridiculous bed, and Luke is kneeling in front of me, gold in the lamplight.
"You're staring," Luke says.
"You're gorgeous. Stay there."
Torres puts a hand flat between my shoulder blades and then his cock is dragging through how wet I am, once, twice, unbearable.
"Now," I say. "Right now, Torres, I mean it—"
He pushes into me all the way and I lose my thoughts.
He doesn't go slow. I don’t want slow. He's got both hands on my hips and he's fucking me properly, and every stroke drives me forward, and Luke gathers my hair back off my face in one hand and holds it while I take him in my mouth.
Both of them at once, all the way through me, and the bond sings with it. I can't separate their need or desire from my own and I don't want to. The bond mark flares at my wrist.
I make a noise around Luke and his control slips for the first time all evening.
" Jessica. "
Torres gets a hand around and finds my clit with his fingers, and I come, fast and I have to let Luke go because I can't do anything at all.
"Yes," Torres groans.
I come so hard my arms give out.
Torres holds me up through it, cursing, and goes about four more strokes before he loses it completely and buries himself and finishes with his forehead against my spine.
For a while there's nothing but breathing.
Then Torres lies down sideways across the bottom of my bed like a man who has been shot, and says, to the ceiling, "One."
"One?"
"Of six."
"You are not a serious person."
"I am extremely serious. I made a list on the plane."
Luke pulls me up into his lap.
I'm boneless. He arranges me exactly where he wants me, which is straddling him with his arms locked around my back and his mouth on my throat, and I can feel him hard against me and shaking with the effort of not doing anything about it.
“I've been thinking about how you'd sound with him inside you," Luke says, calmly, "and I want to hear that again with me inside you."
I reach down and take him in my hand and he stops being calm.
"Jessica."
"Say that again."
" Jessica. "
I sink down onto him.
Neither of us breathes. He's thick and I'm so wet it doesn't matter and I take him all the way and then sit there and shake.
His fingers dig into my hips. He doesn't move.
So I do.
Slow, because I want it slow, deep and dragging, his hands sliding up my ribs — careful on the left, even now, even like this — to my breasts and staying there. His eyes open the whole time and on my face. The bond showing me how much he enjoys watching me.
Torres props himself on one elbow at the end of the bed and watches too, and I find I don't mind that even slightly.
"Faster," I say.
Luke plants his feet and thrusts up into me, taking over, crushing me to his chest, his mouth at my collarbone.
"Like that—"
"I know."
"Don't stop—"
"Shut up and feel me, Jess. I’m going to wreck this pretty pussy," he growls into my skin.
I get an arm around his neck and another orgasm crashes through me, and as I lock down on him, his control finally breaks — face in my shoulder, and something wordless against my throat.
Neither of us moves for a long time.
Then he falls backward onto the pillows and takes me with him.
I end up sprawled half on Luke and half off him with my hair stuck to my face and my legs entirely out of order, and Torres works his way up the bed and lies down along my back and puts his arm over the both of us, and I am extremely warm and completely finished and no longer capable of thought.
"Well," Luke says eventually.
"Don't."
I laugh, and then I stop laughing because of the ribs, and both of them say "ribs" at exactly the same time, and that sets me off again.
The rain goes on against the long windows.
Torres falls asleep first. Luke's fingers work slowly through my hair, untangling it without being asked, and neither of us says anything and neither of us has to.
I have not been this comfortable since April. I have not been this comfortable ever , actually, which is a thought I decide to examine some other time.
Somebody knocks at nine-forty.
Torres doesn't stir. Luke's hand stops in my hair.
"Ignore it," I say.
They knock again.
I get up, because, my room , and open the door about three inches.
It's the man from the desk downstairs. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Miss Miller. I'm sorry about the hour. This came for you this evening and I'm instructed to deliver on receipt."
It's a slim envelope with a seal on it.
I know that seal. Two letters came to my flat over the summer with that seal, and it isn't the academy's.
"Thanks."
"Goodnight, Miss Miller."
I close the door and stand in my own sitting room in somebody else's shirt with the fire down to embers, and open it.
It's four lines.
Jessica May Miller is hereby summoned to appear before the Council regarding the investigation into her possible descent from the Fourth Great House, and matters of standing arising therefrom.
Then a date. Then a place. Then a line stating that attendance is required.
Possible descent. Fine. That's the same careful nothing they've been saying since April.
It's the other word I keep coming back to.
Standing.
I read the date twice.
Friday.
Well. Fuck.