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“Lay back,” he commands.

I nod and do as he asks.

His hands find the top of my shorts and he tugs, pausing for me to lift my hips. He leans over me, mouth inches from mine and whispers, “I told you I came down for a snack.”

I wait for him to kiss me but he pulls back and vanishes. That’s when I feel his hands on my inner thighs and his mouth…

“Oh,” I gasp, feeling the warmth of his breath, the tickle of his tongue. I reach for the edge of the table. My legs hang over the side but he pushes my knees back, spreading me wider. He works his tongue, his lips, his breath. My hips raise off the ground pushing, pushing for more friction.

I close my eyes and sink into the feelings, the care and determination Dylan uses with every flick. Each stroke. But he also leaves me hanging, pulling away just as I’m tumbling over the edge. Drawing me further and further into a spiral I can’t quite catch. I hear a strange sound and it comes from deep in my throat.

I hear a sound, a sharp intake of breath across the room and open my eyes. Clinton stands in the doorway watching. Waiting. Our eyes connect and I lick my lips, knowing what it feels like to have more than one set of hands on me at once. What two mouths can do. He doesn’t move. He simply observes and it sends a shudder of pleasure down my body knowing that he’s there.

I have little doubt Dylan knows he’s there and when he gives my clit one final suck and lifts his head and nods at his fellow Raven, butterflies race through my belly. Clinton stands before me, runs his fingers down my thighs and says, “Is this okay?”

I nod. “Yes. Please.”

I hear the sound of his zipper over my heartbeat. I feel the hard tip of his cock as it teases the slippery wet of my core. I turn my head in search of Dylan and find him leaning against the counter top. There’s no mistaking the tent in his cotton pants.

Clinton lays his hands on my breasts, fondling my nipples, and my toes curl. I’m thankful that he doesn’t make me wait long, running a hand down my belly and grazing his thumb across my clit. I bite down on my bottom lip when he enters me. I glance to the side just in time to see Dylan reach his hands into his pants.

It’s a trio of sounds: deep grunts from my chest as Clinton claims me, the rocking of the table with every punch, and the short panting from my left as Dylan’s hand moves in time, pumping up and down.

Clinton’s dark hair spills into his face, his jaw is tight. His eyes focused. Dylan got me ready and I’m already teetering on the edge. The man inside of me grows frantic, lifting me off the table and pulling me to his chest. He kisses me, fucks me, consumes every inch of me. We share it all. Energy. Life. Love, and just when I think my body may break, that it may all be too much…I shatter.

And he comes, slamming into me so hard I cry for mercy.

I fall back against the table, breath ragged, Clinton still twitching inside of me, and glance over at the third member of this late night club. Dylan hasn’t come but he’s moved closer and I splay my hand on my belly. He leans down and kisses me, hard and possessive. Dark like his soul. Consuming like his passion. And he comes in an explosion of cum across my stomach. His head tilts back and his hand grips my head and fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Yeah, I’m at a loss for fucking coherent words, too.

Clinton’s gray eyes scan the table behind me and narrow.

“What?” I ask, exhausted and unable to lift myself to see what he’s looking at.

“Did you seriously eat all the cake?”

41

Morgan

“So is this dinner thing mandatory?” Hildi asks. She’s standing in front of my closet, flipping through my clothes. Nothing but a dress will fit her and even then it will probably only come to her mid-thigh.

“I’m surprised it took Sue this long to work out a configuration in the dining room to fit all of us.”

She holds up a black dress. I shake my head. On me it looks okay. On her, I think it may veer into street walker territory.

“Hold on,” I say, digging through the outfits. I pull out a dress that hits me below the knee. It’s a green and white wrap dress. A little cool for the weather but it will have to do. “Try this.”

She takes it and nods in approval.

It doesn’t take long for us to get ready and together we walk down the three flights of stairs. “I’m really glad you’ve been staying here,” I tell her. “Being the only woman around can get a little crazy.”

She laughs. “I never understood your whole…thing with the guys. I mean, I get it, they’re hot and they’re all completely devoted to you, but…”

“It’s a lot of work. We’ve established some rules. And now that the end of the world isn’t crashing down on us we have time to feel things out a little better.”


Tags: Angel Lawson The Raven Queen's Harem Fantasy