I shook my head as Hunter jumped up and then lifted me again. "No. Let them watch?" I asked.
Hunter nodded toward the bench, and with soft protests, my men rolled slowly off the structure, sliding in a heap together on the floor and no farther. Nireas came up from the audience, pants just barely closed, and sat down in front of the bench, his hair rumpled and his smile lazy as he watched Hunter lay me down. The bench was messy. I would owe the pixies extra cakes for cleaning up after us.
"This isn't a performance," Hunter said, arching an eyebrow at me as I shifted and preened and adjusted my position.
"I know," I said, trying to sound innocent, even as I spread my legs wide and glanced down the length of the bench to where Jude was leaning back against Ronan, the pair of them staring with a drowsy kind of hunger in their eyes.
"What happens between us," Hunter said, and my heart stuttered as he turned and nodded to the others to include them, "will always be personal and private. No matter how many witnesses we have…watching from the wings."
"Hunter," I murmured, reaching for him.
He was stripping slowly, the spotlights bright on his piercings, and he paused, head tipping and waiting for me.
"Come here and touch me, my love," I said.
The pet name was almost accidental. He stiffened, bright eyes blazing, and then he rushed to kick his clothes off, climbing onto the bench between my spread legs. I was stretched out in offering, my body languid, already satisfied and yet eager for more.
Hunter's head bent, lips wrapping around my nipple, and I sighed, sliding my fingers into his hair, turning my head and smiling at the others. Hunter rose up again, braced above me, and he nodded his head without me having to ask the question out loud.
"Everyone touch me, please," I said.
They slid closer, wings and claws and horns and tails all reaching for me. My men. My monsters.