I bucked and moaned, but he didn’t let up. One of his hands slid to the inside of my thigh and pressed my leg back, opening me further to his indecent kiss and making my lower leg drape over his back. It pulled a loud, satisfied groan from my chest, and I reached behind me to grip the edge of the couch. If he kept this up much longer, it was possible I was going to scream. Maybe that was what he was waiting for.
My eyes fluttered open, and I looked down at him over my heaving chest, my nipples hardened into points. He gazed at me through hooded eyes, and I—
In spite of the fire and what Royce was doing to me, a cold draft washed down my spine. Something wasn’t right, but my mind was soaked in lust, and the fog made it difficult to pinpoint what had set me off.
Wait. The door.
Had Royce left it like that, or perhaps ajar, and the hinges had let it slowly swing away from the frame? Because the ornate door with its brass handle was currently open, revealing the empty hallway beyond.
Not empty, a warning voice in my mind whispered.
I peered through the doorway into the darkness, letting my eyes adjust to the form lurking there. As my gaze met his, Macalister stepped out of the shadows.
SEVEN
MACALISTER’S SILENT ENTRANCE TORE ME OPEN, poured hot lead inside, and then dumped me into the harbor. I sank into the depths, the pressure of the ocean water making it impossible to move or scream.
There weren’t words to describe his expression. He was angry, that much was clear, but a myriad of other emotions skulked in his eyes. Longing. Jealousy. Hurt.
Interest.
With his back to the door, Royce was unaware of the danger who had edged into our room and now stood towering just inside the doorway. He was too focused on what he was doing to understand I’d seized up because of an intruder and not his tongue caressing my clit.
When I opened my mouth to speak, he pushed his finger past my entrance and deep inside my body. The unexpected pleasure was so great, my mind fractured and my body bowed instinctively. I let go of his hair and latched my other hand behind me, my elbows pointed to the ceiling as I arched up, away from the couch.
My moan was louder than the sound of satisfaction Royce gave, and it wasn’t likely Macalister heard a thing besides me, anyway. He braced one hand on the doorframe, and the other that hung at his side curled into a white-knuckled fist.
All the control he had on himself was clutched in those fingers like a hand gripping reins, and the tense way he held his body screamed of the powerful chaos trapped inside. It was desperate for escape, for release.
His glacial eyes pierced mine as a harpoon and dragged me in, even as I tried to resist. He wordlessly demanded to know how could I do this to him.
The longer he stood there and stared at me, the angrier I became.
The door had been shut, I now knew that. This was still his house, and he owned everything inside, so he didn’t feel the need to knock. He’d come in here unannounced, perhaps to stop what he suspected was happening.
I’d told Macalister I was in love with Royce, but he wouldn’t accept it. A dark, sinister voice made a suggestion.
Show him.
I was vaguely aware it was a fucking terrible, dangerous idea, but he’d pushed me repeatedly to my breaking point, and I cruelly wanted to return the favor. My hands ached from how hard I gripped the back of the couch, but I tipped my chin down to my chest and glared at him through my heavy-lidded eyes.
Watch, I dared.
As he’d pointed out back when I’d lost in the hedge maze, it was nothing he hadn’t already seen. Macalister had stood beside the dining table the night of the initiation with an hourglass gripped in his hands while his son fucked me with both his mouth and his cock.
I turned my head to the side so I wouldn’t have to look at Macalister and gasped it into my arm. “Oh, my God. Yes, Royce.”
My fiancé’s finger pushed and pulled inside me, moving faster to match the hurried pace of his tongue lashing at me. I gulped down air but grew lightheaded anyway. There was nowhere to look. Not at Royce, whose penetrative gaze made me want to explode, or at Macalister, who appeared both tormented and enraptured.
I knew it was wrong.
That I should send him away, or at least open my mouth and say something. This moment was supposed to be between Royce and me. But if I spoke up, it’d ruin everything. Royce would be rightfully furious, and he didn’t handle his emotions well. What if he lost control and said something he regretted? What if he gave away what he was planning?