Get Lucky
Delores
Fitz was true to his word—he started at the soles of my feet and worked his way up like it was a holy calling. It showed a level of focus here that was almost alarming, as if the rest of the world was background noise.
Now, I’m lying on my stomach, limbs akimbo and hair a rainbow puddle around my head, as candles flicker madly and turn my skin into glistening, shimmery evidence that I’ve been basted like a prize roast. I don’t know what he’s going to do next, but I sure as hell won’t stop him.
This treatment has been amazing, and he’s going to regret showing me how good he is at it.
I will need those hands way more often than normal because of the intensity of my schedule, I think.
His touch on my back is a warm, oiled glide, his fingers rough and a little calloused from years of…
whatever it is he did when he wasn’t hacking or killing people in the faculty fights at Apex.
The contrast makes me shiver, even though I know this part is supposed to be the relaxing phase.
That claim is refuted by the fact that every part of me is wound so tight that I half expect to vibrate off the sheets.
My crazy tiger starts with a deep push along the small of my back and I hear my own gasp muffled by the pillow I’m faceplanting into.
I’m not being dramatic, but the knot he finds is like a freaking epic Greek puzzle.
For two solid seconds, all I can do is whimper and groan, which makes him laugh in that low, wicked way he does.
“Are you doing okay, Baby Girl? Say the word if you need rescuing,” he says, kneading my spine like he’s trying to make bread. He sounds delighted at my response and I smile into the fabric of the comforter as he continues working my muscles.
“Fitzy, I’m not saying that word unless Aubrey sets the damn library on fire. This is heaven,” I mumble as his thumbs put pressure on the spots where I need it like they have radar.
He bends over, his long hair tickling my back, and grins right next to my ear. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ve got you at my mercy, and when you’re ready, the others are coming in to help. Outside of fiery emergencies, I plan to stay right here, but I’m happy you’re on board.”
I want to protest further, but the next noise I make is not human.
That bastard just keeps kneading with that perfect blend of precision and strength that is turning me into goo.
The tension drains out of my back slowly, but then he switches to my shoulderblades.
His method is the same—goad, grind, and release—as he works the tension out of the tight muscles there.
I realize belatedly that my pussy is leaking onto the comforter, but there’s no universe in which I could care less right now.
We can do laundry later; right now, I’m so turned on and boneless that I don’t even care.
The harder he pushes, the deeper I melt into the bed, until the only thing holding my bones together is the thin thread of my own stubbornness.
My face is mashed into the sheets, my arms limp, and my heart going a mile a minute.
He pauses once, and I have just enough energy to turn my head and glare at him.
“If you stop now, I’ll kick your ass,” I mumble.
Fitz bends forward, plants a slow kiss on my lower back, and says, “You are a very demanding patient, you know. Lucky for you, I love a challenge and my dick loves sass.”
He slips down my spine again, rubbing circles along the ridges of my lower back until every thought in my head is just a chorus of ‘yes, yes, more, please’.
I squirm and the movement shoves my hips upward, which I instantly regret because it makes my ass brush the hardness in his pants.
I won’t be getting that anytime soon and I have to bite my lip hard to keep from begging.
“If you keep wiggling, I’ll never be able to finish,” he teases, his hands moving up my back in a slow, grinding rhythm that’s exactly the speed of a slow burn fuse. “You want to break my self-control before it’s time, don’t you?”
“Your self-control is usually a myth; how is it working so well tonight?” I snark back, but my voice breaks on the last word because he finds a knot under my shoulder blade that nearly brings me to tears. The sound that comes out of me is mortifying, but Fitz just chuckles again.
“That one was because of the bullshit the other day, I bet,” he says, working it until it unclenches. “Or maybe it was from your practice with Z? Either way, be gone, silly knot. The only knots allowed in this room are in ropes and weiners.”
“For fuck’s sake, Fitzy,” I groan, and he laughs as he nips the point of my shoulder. “Weiners? Really?”
“I prefer beefy love sausage, but Chessie says it’s weird,” he says, then switches gears to knead my shoulders. His hands are strong, sure, and completely unhurried as I snicker and wriggle at the combo of his statement and the massage. “So weiner it is… for today.”
I will never survive him saying that during sexy times, and I know it’s going to drive Aubrey and Felix insane.
When he finally gets to my neck, his thumbs press gently but firmly into the muscles, working out the day’s worth of stress and making me go limp as a wet noodle.
My whole body is humming with desire, hypersensitive and half-floating, and it’s like the rest of the world has melted away.
Fitz leans down and peppers my skin with slow, soft kisses, his breath hot and a little bit wild against my skin.
“You’re done, Baby Girl,” he whispers, lips right next to my ear. “Officially tenderized from head to toe.”
I want to make a smartass comment, but all that comes out is a whimper. That doesn’t matter, though, because I could lie here and let him turn me into jerky and I’d die happy.
But he’s not finished; Fitz wipes his hands on the comforter and then rolls me gently onto my back, careful not to tangle my hair.
The whole room spins as he props a pillow under my head and adjusts my limbs until I’m splayed like a crime scene outline.
Then he walks to the door, opens it a crack, and calls out, “Alright, assholes. She’s ready for lovin’ now, so get on little doggies. ”
Imagining their response to that call is hilarious, and I wish I could move to respond to it.
Still high on whatever cocktail of endorphins and cherry oil he’s pumped into me, I squint to see the rest of my mates approach. The first head to peep into the room is Aubrey, who raises an eyebrow and says, “Is she still alive? I thought I heard a banshee screaming in here.”
Rennie simply saunters in wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a smirk, his hair still damp from a recent shower.
Felix is right behind him, all sharp cheekbones and predator eyes, but when he sees me sprawled and helpless on the bed, his expression goes soft with hunger.
Chessie is last—quiet, but carrying a neatly folded towel and a bottle of water like he’s the team’s medical support.
My crazy tiger masseuse circles to the other side of the bed and points to my prone body. “I present to you the most relaxed bunny in the world. She is now ready for group worship and orgasms that elicit sounds even louder than those you heard earlier. Do you accept this challenge?”
The dragon snorts, his eyes dancing as he says. “You outdid yourself, Fitzgerald. It is not often that our delectable bunny is relaxed enough to be speechless.”
“I see you have mastered your technique, my friend. I am impressed as well,” Rennie says as he strokes his chin, pretending to evaluate the quality of Fitz’s work. “This will do quite nicely for our plans.”
The elder tiger just stalks forward and kneels beside the bed, running a single finger down my shoulder to my elbow.
My skin jumps under his touch, even though he’s barely pressing at all.
His mouth twitches. “She’s shivering with anticipation,” he observes, then looks up at Fitz.
“I agree with the others; you have pushed her right to the edge, brother. It’s perfect. ”
“Still not the boss of me,” I croak, barely able to push the words through my lips but unable to let his smugness go.
“Oh, that’s the mate I know and love.” Chess tucks the towel under my hips, ever the caretaker.
“Now, hydrate, Angel,” he says, holding the bottle up to my lips.
I take a few sips, and the cold water is so sharp it almost makes me cry.
He wipes my chin with the towel, and then gives Fitz a tiny smile.
The five of them stand around the bed, all looking down at me with varying degrees of adoration, lust, and pride.
For a second, it’s overwhelming, but then I remember that I chose this, and that none of them are going to do anything I don’t want.
It makes me feel safer than I ever thought possible—like I’m a treasure they all want to keep safe and also ruin a little, for fun.
I squint up at them and mutter, “You look very serious for men who are about to have a very good time.”
That finally breaks the tension. Felix grins, Aubrey snorts, and Renard leans down to brush my cheek with the back of his hand. “We are very serious, ma petite,” he says, voice low and thick with an accent that gets stronger when he’s aroused. “We take your pleasure extremely seriously.”
Chess nods, his arms folded over his chest. “We planned it out; it will be very organized.”
Aubrey rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. It’s not a schedule, it’s just an order of operations.”
“Same thing,” Chessie deadpans.
Fitz nudges my chin with his knuckle, eyes warm. “Ready for phase two, Baby Girl?”
I am beyond ready.
“Destroy me.”
Rennie laughs, deep and delicious, and the candles flicker as Fitz slides his hands under my back and lifts me just enough to get me comfortable, and I feel the bed dip as the others climb on around me.
My night is about to get even better and I can’t fucking wait.