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“You’re wet,” Hale murmurs, and now he is speaking to me. His voice is low and rough, but still devoid of emotion. “Is that a lie too?”

My chest rises and falls faster and faster as his finger drags slowly upward, and when it brushes against my sensitive clit, I bite my lip against the noise that tries to escape my mouth. Behind Hale, Zaid groans, the sound quiet and tortured.

“I think it is.” Hale’s finger circles my clit again, his face impassive as he watches me. “I think it’s all a lie.”

He dips between my folds to gather more of the sticky arousal there, using two fingers this time as he traces a slow, deliberate pattern over my clit. My toes clench, and I lock my jaw tight, trying to slow my racing heart and the flush of arousal radiating from my core, infecting my whole body.

Why does it feel so good?

How can any of this feel good?

The feel of Hale’s fingers

methodically working my clit, combined with the two sets of eyes watching me, makes me feel like my skin is on fire. Like my whole body might go up in flames soon if I don’t find some way to extinguish this spark.

Hale’s dark blue irises look nearly as black as his pupils as he pinches my clit gently between his fingers, making my stomach clench. Given the rage that poured out of him a moment ago, I would’ve expected his touch to be rough and harsh. But it’s not. It’s restrained, controlled.

And that’s worse.

Because instead of forcing the pleasure on my body, overwhelming me and overpowering me with it, he’s making me chase it.

Against my will, my hips shift a little, trying to get more friction right where I need it, and a gleam of triumph flares in Hale’s eyes. He’s trying to make a point. To prove something to Zaid or me, or maybe to himself.

I hate the smug confidence on his face, hate that he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, how badly I need to fucking come. My body has been through hell in the past several hours, and now he’s offering it a taste of pleasure.

A taste of bliss.

And even if I don’t want it, the animal in me is determined to claim it.

As another shock of sensation shoots through my body, I tear my gaze away from Hale—and my focus lands on Zaid instead.

He’s standing several feet away, his entire body taut as a wire. His green eyes are hooded with desire, and the moment our eyes lock, a rush of something unfamiliar floods my body. It’s like our souls are connected through our gazes somehow, like I can feel everything this is doing to him.

I know he notices every small jerk and twitch of my body as I try to fight down the pleasure rising inside me beneath Hale’s demanding fingers, and I can see his muscles tense in response. As if it’s taking every last shred of self-control he has not to stride across the room, rip Hale away from me, and bury his face between my legs.

Friendship be damned.

Syndicate be damned.

Orders be damned.

Hale hums low in his throat, a deep vibration that seems to fill my entire body. My hips are moving faster now, my body undulating and my heels digging into the bed, my hands fisting the mattress like I need something to ground me in this storm of sensation.

I can’t look away from Zaid. Not even when the pleasure I’ve been fighting so hard to resist finally crests, rising up inside me like a tidal wave.

He sees everything. I know he does.

He sees my mouth fall open, sees the look of raw ecstasy that sweeps my features, the way my body shudders and quakes under Hale’s touch. He sees me shamelessly ride his friend’s hand, so lost in the need of the moment that I can’t remember what any of this means anymore.

Only that I need this.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Zaid’s voice is a choked grunt, and as another wave of pleasure makes my body clench again, he shoves his hand into his boxers and grabs his cock, jerking his fist in rough, harsh movements as his lips curl in a grimace.

It doesn’t take more than five strokes before he’s done, his shoulders hunching slightly and hips thrusting into his own touch as he comes in his hand.

A few more small aftershocks move through me as Hale’s fingers finally slow, the rough pads of his fingertips slick with new wetness.


Tags: Eva Ashwood The Dark Elite Romance