116

SUNDAY

“Wrap your fingers in her hair, Viking. Show me her throat.” Caleb’s rough command sent sparks straight to my clit and my gaze shot to where he sat in the corner, surrounded by shadows.

I moaned as Alek obeyed, bending down to steal a kiss. His other hand snaked down my body, roughly grabbing my breast and squeezing. Something in that touch made my chest crack open a little, longing flooding through me even though he was right here.

“Oh, she likes it when you’re rough,” Kingston said, his voice a sensual rasp. “She’s fucking dripping.”

“How does she taste, Mr. Farrell? Tell me—in great detail. Don’t leave out a single thing.”

“How can I tell you if my face is in her cunt, Priest?”

“Fuck her with your tongue, make her come, and then report. It’s a simple order of operations. I’m sure even you can understand.”

“Gladly,” Kingston growled.

“Yes. Gladly. Please. Now.” I was all need, my words barely making sense as I bucked my hips in search of the tongue he was denying me.