42. Right Round
Right Round
Delores
The aftershocks of round one with my men are like summer lightning.
For a solid minute, the only sound in my bedroom is the ragged panting of six people in various states of being undone, the suspension rig’s creak, and Fitz’s sexy music.
The sheets on the bed are soaked in enough oil, sweat, and biological evidence to qualify for the next episode of a true crime documentary.
But it’s good, and I’m surfing on a wave of joy big enough to take out a city, so who cares?
When Felix’s knot finally releases with a grumpy, reluctant squelch, I half expect the mattress to cave in like a tiny sinkhole.
It doesn’t, but it groans in protest as his hips drag out and the suspension system rocks on its anchor.
Above me, the ceiling shudders when the same happens for Aubrey, and he’s able to remove himself slowly.
My body shudders from the sensation on sensitive parts, and my eyes move to the hook as I dangle freely.
My dragon lets out a long, blissed growl, then immediately frowns, as if displeased with his own lack of stoicism.
He leans in close to my face, his mouth curling into a predatory, post-orgasm smirk.
There’s a bead of sweat tracking down his cheekbone, and I give him a tipsy, blissed-out smile in return.
He licks the sweat away with the tip of his forked tongue and then licks my cheek for good measure.
“Snack size, if you wish to fly again, next time it will be in the open air as intended,” he says in a hoarse rasp. “Rennie’s rig is nice, but the night sky is so much better.”
That’s absolutely true, and I’d agree, but all I do is let out a dying squeak. The muscles in my throat gave up the ghost somewhere around orgasm number whatever. I lost count, so I try for a bunny glare, but it’s likely more endearing than menacing.
Renard is the one who notices because even as Aubrey untangles himself, the gargoyle is at my head.
He strokes my rainbow hair back from my face with one careful hand, while the other untangles the knots in the silk rigging.
His eyes are soft as he frees me carefully, making sure my jellied limbs don’t give out.
“You were a star all on your own, ma petite,” he whispers, and my heart trips over itself. “Your aura colors are so much brighter when you’re happy.”
I smile, and though it probably looks like I’ve been hit by a bus, I don’t care.
These men are the kindest, gentlest ones I’ve ever known, and they are all mine forever.
Never would I have imagined myself so lucky after my disastrous prom emergence or the first day at Apex.
Yet here I am, and despite all the bullshit, I’m surrounded by love that lifts me up constantly.
I lean forward a little to kiss him lightly, not trusting myself to reply out loud.
My gargoyle sets me on the bed, and when I look behind me, Felix has collapsed face-down into the nearest available mattress surface and is breathing like someone who just sprinted up a mountain.
Fitz is sitting cross-legged beside him, grinning so hard his eyes have almost gone anime.
He pokes his twin in the head with a single finger, then snorts.
“I told you she’d outlast us,” he says to the room at large. “That was a massacre, by the way. I haven’t seen you tap out that fast since you mainlined five bottles of scotch and drunkenly tried to fuck a vacuum cleaner.”
Felix just groans, and I’m sure that story is going to be amusement fodder he’ll regret later.
His ass is still in the air, and I would bet a week’s worth of caffeine he’s not faking the exhaustion.
I feel a twinge of pride, but it’s mostly just affection.
If anyone’s going to break the world record for most sexually destroyed catboy, it should be someone in my family. We definitely put the work in.
Meanwhile, Chess is coming back from the bathroom.
He smiles softly as he joins us on the bed with a warm cloth.
Pushing me back a little, he gets to work, his face as calm and professional as if he’s scrubbing a casserole pan, not the mess between my thighs and elsewhere.
With the efficiency of a veteran nurse, he wipes away the worst of the mess from my skin.
He glances up to meet my eyes and offers me the smallest, most genuine smile.
“You did great, Angel. But you need water, and Fitz is going to get it for you while I finish this.”
There’s a momentary blur of naked tiger, and then Fitz is back, holding up a bottle of water like he’s making an offering to the goddess of hydrated snacks. He wiggles it as he unscrews the cap. “Open up, Baby Girl. You’ve earned this.”
My lips are basically sandpaper, but I suck down half the bottle in one go.
It’s so cold it hurts my teeth, but I don’t care—my body is so overheated I could probably fry an egg on my stomach.
There’s a weird, giddy euphoria settling in my limbs.
It’s better than the best nap and a huge shopping spree simultaneously.
Everyone who told me not to have sex before can go eat a rotten egg, that’s for fucking sure.
Though if I hadn’t waited and been able to escape Todd while meeting Fitz, I’d probably be trapped in some terrible engagement with a promise of mediocre weinering forever—if he didn’t kill me first.
Fitz leans over me, his hair a wild, staticky mess, and peers down with fake concern. “Is that better? You still look flushed.”
I try to answer, but it’s more of a rusty death-rattle than anything else.
I want to tell him that being double-teamed into oblivion and then having that many orgasms while waiting for knots to fade is a valid reason to be bright pink all over.
My body is fighting heat I couldn’t control.
Instead, I wrinkle my nose and give him a playful glare.
Chess pats my cheek gently and says, “That means yes, but it’ll take a few for her to rehydrate, my love. She screamed a lot and I think her chords are a bit strained.”
I want to say something sassy in response to that as well, but I have to settle for a thumbs-up and a middle finger, which makes my crazy tiger howl with laughter. I roll my eyes, ignoring those two to check on the others.
As I smile at him, Rennie holds up a finger and goes to find a hair tie on my nightstand.
With surprising tenderness, he sweeps the damp strands off my neck, his fingers gentle on my temples for a moment.
Then he grins as he gathers my rainbow fizzed-out mess into a high, loose ponytail that makes everything feel even better.
It cools my neck and back while helping keep it out of my face.
These men get smarter and more observant every day, I swear.
“If you need to say your word, you must do it before we continue, ma chérie,” he murmurs, and the sound is so serious it cuts through the fog of lust like a laser. “Does anything hurt? Other than the good kind of hurt? Is it too much to play another round together?”
I summon up enough energy to twist my mouth into a smirk and croak, “My only pain is the dragon bite,” I croak. “And that’s because it burned a brand, sort of, I think. Did that happen to you? Is it weird?”
Aubrey, who has sprawled out on his back at the foot of the bed, grumbles, “It’s healing, that’s why it hurts a bit. The brand is normal for us, so you can breathe easy, lunchable. Rennie, she needs to walk tomorrow. Don’t push her.”
At that statement, Felix makes a muffled noise that could be agreement or just him choking on the pillows—hard to say.
I giggle, and the other three look at me with hungry eyes. I suppose humor means I’m doing okay, but they don’t move yet.
“The only thing she’s not going to do tomorrow is audition for the Vienna Boys’ Choir. You absolutely obliterated her voice, Emo Boy. High five for that, bro, but we need to be super gentle if she agrees. After all, she has voice lessons again on Wednesday.”
Renard doesn’t high-five him, but he gives me another concerned look. “Are you certain, petite lapin?” he asks again. “It is always okay to tap out.”
“I want round two,” I whisper hoarsely. “I want Chess and Fitz and you before anyone passes out.”
Chess’s eyes go wide, and Fitz—well, Fitz’s entire body language changes to predator on the hunt in seconds. My gargoyle’s concern melts into something hungry as well at my words. His tongue flashes across his lower lip. “As you wish, ma petite,” he says.
Aubrey’s low, rumbly laugh is the last sound before Fitz flips the playlist to something with more bass, and the whole room resets for round two.
I am in so much trouble, and I simply do not care.
You’ve never truly lived until three of your boyfriends negotiate the logistics of how best to fuck you at once, when all they care about is your comfort.
The playlist pounds through the speakers, the bass shaking the lampshade and vibrating up the frame of the bed.
The air is thick with the stink of sex and candle wax, and now there’s also Fitz’s anxious energy as he bounces in place waiting for the green light.
He can’t just jump in because Rennie is the general in this operation.
He paces along the bed’s edge before he picks up a pillow and tucks it under my hips, so my alignment is optimal.
Chess helps him with the placement; their hands occasionally bumping, then brushing, and for a hot second, I get the sense they’re speaking some secret language that doesn’t require words or even eye contact.
“She needs to be at the right height,” Renard says, mostly to himself. “If not, Fitz will get too excited and someone will break a tooth.”
“Only if you’re lucky,” Fitz stage-whispers. “No worries, though, Baby Girl. I know how to bite responsibly. He’s just being a mother hen.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Chess says, giving the tiger a warning glare. “I’m not resetting your teeth again when they grow back. You’re no fun when your teeth hurt.”