I speared my tongue into her mouth in time with my cock below and reveled in the burn building inside my lower abdomen. Fuck, it was good. So, so good. Claire dug her heels into my ass, urging me onward, giving me that subtle demand she knew I loved, and encouraging me to join her in oblivion.
My balls tightened.
My stomach clenched.
The moment slowed, everything intensifying and then exploding into a million pieces as I lost myself inside her.
She was so tight. So hot. So wet. So fucking perfect.
I groaned, her name a benediction on my tongue as I gave her everything, drenching her with my claim and kissing the life out of her along the way.
I love you, I told her. Fuck, I love you, Claire.
I love you, too, she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed, her exhaustion evident.
I couldn’t wait to see her in a week. She’d be a replete mess of over-gratification.
“Hmm, let the orgasm trials begin,” I mused, nibbling her chin.
“?’kay” was all she said back, her lips pulling into a lazy grin as she fell into a sweet slumber.
“Get some sleep, little queen,” Cyrus said, kissing her temple. “You’re going to need it.”
I NEVER WANTED to come again.
Ever.
Well, for at least a few days. Maybe a week. Because yeah. I couldn’t feel my lady parts. My nipples were pretty much solid glass. And yeah, I couldn’t walk.
“You know, I think this whole trial thing backfired,” I said conversationally. “You broke my vagina. So. I won’t be having a baby after all. But thanks for all the, uh, orgasms.”
Cyrus chuckled, his palm a brand against my thigh. “Trust me, you’re not broken.” He leaned in to kiss the pulse point of my neck. “And I bet we could all make you come again in a few hours.”
I crossed my legs. “No.”
Titus joined Cyrus in his amusement. The two of them had tied in the trial. Apparently, it wasn’t just about the number of orgasms but also about the intensity of them and how loud I screamed.
They were all even in my book, but Cyrus and Titus claimed victory for making my aftershocks last the longest.
I hadn’t been paying attention at all—too lost to blissful oblivion—so I just took their word for it.
Exos handed me a cup of his famous hot chocolate and bent to kiss me on the head. You’re majestic, he whispered in my mind. And you’re not broken, just well fucked.
His words drew a line of fire through my veins that caused my lower belly to pulse with want. I squirmed, the intensity too much too soon. He chuckled in response, as did Cyrus, who had felt my thigh clench beneath his hand.
Vox entered with a tray of food, his hair loose around his shoulders and his upper body shirtless. Sol followed him inside with another tray, his body similarly clad to the Air Fae. They set both platters at the foot of the bed.
“There’s more in the kitchen,” Vox said, winking at me.
My nose twitched at the familiar scent of bacon. “Did you…?”
“I did,” he replied, reading the thought from my mind. Perhaps not literally. All my mates had to know what I was thinking.
“So this is real bacon? Like, from a pig?”
“Yep,” he confirmed. “Not a troll in sight.”
I set my hot chocolate on an end table and jumped up in excitement. Then I threw my arms around him just as someone cleared their throat from the doorway.