Chapter 12 #2
Two sets of hands, I didn’t know whose, parted my thighs, exposing me completely to their gazes. The knot in my stomach tightened, a hot, heavy ache building between my legs.
“She’s soaking wet,” a rough voice—I think it was Griff’s—rumbled. “And so fucking ready.”
A long finger slid through my slick folds, a careful exploration that made my back arch off the cot, and then pressed inside me. A second finger joined the first, scissoring inside me, stretching me open. I whimpered, my hips rocking against their hands, seeking more, needing more.
“Look at her,” Eamon murmured, his voice a mix of awe and clinical fascination. “The way her body responds.”
A thumb brushed against my clit, and I cried out. The pressure was light, almost teasing, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with a maddening slowness.
A mouth descended upon my clit, hot and wet and demanding. A set of fingers slid inside me, curling, stroking, and finding a spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes.
I was completely lost.
My hands fisted in the blankets, my head thrown back, my breath coming in ragged, desperate pants.
“Please,” I gasped. “Please…”
A thumb and forefinger found my nipple, pinching, rolling, and sending another jolt of pleasure straight to my core. Another set found the other, mimicking the movements, creating a multitude of sensation that was too much, yet not enough.
My hips bucked wildly, seeking a release I was desperate for. The fingers inside me curled again, pressing against that spot, and the mouth on my clit sucked hard.
That was it.
I shattered.
An unrestrained cry tore from my throat. My body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over me, one after the other. My vision went white, and for a long, blissful moment, there was nothing but the exquisite, overwhelming pleasure of unraveling beneath them.
They didn’t stop.
The fingers kept moving, the mouths kept tasting, the hands kept touching, drawing out my orgasm, milking every last drop of pleasure from my trembling body.
When the waves finally subsided, I collapsed against the cot, feeling a bit numb and boneless. My skin was slick with sweat, my muscles loose and pliant.
I opened my eyes to find them all watching me, their expressions a mixture of hunger, pride, and something that looked a lot like adoration.
“Beautiful,” Elias murmured, his voice a low growl. “But we’re not done with you yet.”
An intense surge of heat tore through me, a reminder that the primal need driving me was far from sated. The orgasm had been a temporary reprieve, a firebreak in a wildfire that still burned, hot and relentless, deep in my core.
I needed more.
I needed them.
All five of them.
One of them—Eamon, maybe—drew back, and I whimpered at the loss of contact. But then I heard the rustle of clothing, the soft thud of boots hitting the floor. I lifted my head, my gaze hazy, and watched, mesmerized, as they began to undress.
Shirts were peeled away, revealing hard-muscled chests, powerful arms, and skin I ached to touch. Pants were unfastened, then kicked aside, until they were all as bare as I was.
And fuck, they were magnificent.
Bishop, slender and graceful, his form a study in controlled elegance, every muscle defined, every line precise.
Eamon, all quiet intensity and focused energy, his body lean but strong, hands that could both heal and destroy.
Griff, all raw power and rugged strength, his body a landscape of hard planes and scars.
And Nox, with wiry strength, was coiled danger, his body a testament to a life lived on the edge, every inch of him radiating a confidence that was both thrilling and a little terrifying.
Elias was the last to undress. He moved with a predatory grace, his gaze never leaving mine. As he revealed himself to me, I couldn’t help but bite my lip with desire. He was beautiful, in a way that was almost painful to look at, commanding power and quiet authority wearing skin.
My gaze drifted over them, over the hard evidence of their own arousal, and my lips parted. I wanted to taste them, to feel them, to be filled by them, over and over again, until the heat was finally sated, until the bond was satisfied, until there was nothing left of me but them.
I didn’t have to ask.
They knew.
Griff moved first, reclaiming his place beside me, his big body bracketing mine.
“You’re so beautiful, Tamsin,” he rumbled, and my breath caught.
Eamon knelt at my feet, a question in his gentle eyes. Bishop came to my other side, his hands tracing the curve of my hip. Nox knelt behind me, his hands framing my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. Elias stood above me, his gaze burning with a hunger that made my soul ache.
I was a goddess, and they were my devoted followers.
Their hands were on me again, their mouths finding my skin, their whispers washing over me, a tide of praise and promise.
Then a pair of strong arms, Griff’s maybe, lifted me from the cot.
I gasped, my world tilting as I was suddenly suspended in the air, my legs kicking out uselessly.
For a disorienting moment, all I could see was the ceiling before they flipped me back around, and all I could feel was the strength of the arms holding me, the solid, unyielding muscle of the chest against my back.
Then slowly, carefully, I was being lowered.
I looked down.
Elias lay on the cot beneath me, his eyes locked on mine. His cock was fully erect and ready for me.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight.
My body, however, knew exactly what it wanted.
The heat that had been building inside me, a slow, simmering burn, now erupted into a raging inferno. I was empty, achingly so, and I needed to be filled.
The tip of his cock nudged my slick folds, and I whimpered, my hips rocking instinctively, seeking him, pleading for him. The arms holding my waist lowered me further, a fraction of an inch at a time in a torturous, delicious descent so that I was sitting on the tip of his cock.
Then he breached me.
The sensation was overwhelming. A sudden, burning stretch, a feeling of being filled to the point of pain, followed by a pleasure so intense it was almost agony.
My head fell back with a choked cry. The arms holding me tightened, offering a steadying presence, a silent promise that I wasn’t alone in this.
Slowly, I was lowered further, until I was fully seated on him, my ass flush against his hips, the hard length of him buried deep inside me. I was panting, my body trembling uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of being so incredibly full.
Elias’s hands came up to rest on my hips, his grip tightening just a bit. “You feel that, little mate?” he growled. “You feel how perfectly you take me?”
I could only nod, my shameful arousal too strong to form words.
I took a shaky breath and began to move.
It was a slow, hesitant rhythm at first, my body still adjusting to the sheer size of him, to the intensity of him inside me. I rose up, dragging the walls of my pussy along his length, then sank back down, taking him deep again. Elias groaned, his eyes closed for a moment, and he swallowed hard.
A gasp escaped me. It felt so fucking good.
His hands guided my hips, not forcing the pace, but teaching it, showing me the rhythm that would bring us both the most pleasure. I found it quickly, my body a willing student, my instincts taking over.
I found a rhythm, a slow, sensual undulation of my hips that had him cursing under his breath, his grip on my hips tightening. His cock hit a spot deep inside me, and I couldn’t help but moan.
I lost myself in riding his cock.
Griff’s hands slid to my breasts, cupping them, his thumbs brushing over my nipples from behind me.
The added stimulation sent a jolt straight to my core, and I cried out, my movements becoming more frantic, more desperate.
My head fell back against his shoulder, my breath hitching with every downward thrust.
Elias pressed his fingers into my flesh hard, his control visibly straining. He watched himself disappear inside me, his own arousal a palpable thing. The sight of it, the primal hunger in his eyes, sent another surge of heat through me.
Then I felt Bishop move beside me. I turned my head, my vision blurry with pleasure, and saw him kneeling there, his own cock in his hand, stroking it slowly as he watched us.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice strained with desire. ”Giving everything to your mates. You’re so perfect.”
Eamon’s touch joined the others, his hands exploring my back, tracing the curve of my spine, while Nox’s lips found my neck, his teeth scraping gently, just enough to make me shiver.
I was surrounded. Touched. Worshipped. And it was driving me insane.
The rhythm of my hips grew faster, more erratic. The coil inside me tightened, a hot, heavy ball of need that demanded release.
I rode him harder, faster, chasing that release, my body moving on pure instinct now, driven by the relentless heat. The cot creaked beneath us, a rhythmic counterpoint to my increasingly desperate gasps and moans.
“Elias,” I gasped, my hands reaching down to brace myself against his chest, my nails digging into his hard muscles. “I… I can’t…”
“Don’t hold back, little mate,” he growled, his own hips beginning to move, meeting my downward thrusts with a powerful upward surge that drove him even deeper inside me. “Come for us. Come with me deep inside you.”
That was it.
That was all it took.
The coil inside me snapped.
A strangled cry tore from my throat, my back arching like a cat’s, my body convulsing as the orgasm crashed over me. The pleasure was so intense it stripped me of all thought, all reason, leaving me nothing but a quivering, helpless mess of sensation.
As the waves of pleasure began to subside, I felt a strange new sensation. A pressure at the base of Elias’s cock, a swelling that was both alarming and intoxicatingly pleasurable.
I gasped, my body tensing.