Chapter 283: She’s tightening. gods, Kaelen, Keep Going

"No." She groaned. "That’s the problem."

Draeven’s chest shook with silent laughter.

"Then we’ll do it slowly," he murmured against her hair. "You’ll forget he’s there."

"I won’t."

"Then you’ll remember, and it will be better."

He drew back and thrust hard.

She gasped. It was the same slow, deep stroke as before, but now she was aware of every inch of it, every sound, every glide of skin, and of the pale eyes fixed on her from six feet away. Heat flooded her face and her chest and the place where they joined. Draeven’s hands moved to her breasts and cupped them, lifting them toward the light, and she heard Kaelen’s breath catch.

"Gods," Kaelen said, low. "Look at her."

"Kaelen," Draeven said mildly.

"I’m only saying. Look at that." His voice was hoarse. "You’ve got her pinned against the glass, and she’s soaked. I can see it from here. You’re covered in her."

Morgana whimpered.

"She likes it," Kaelen said, surprised. "Brother. She likes me talking."

"I noticed."

"Do you like it, little ward?" His voice dropped, soft and filthy. "Does it make you wetter when I tell you how pretty you look taking my brother’s cock?"

"Kaelen...."

"She’s tightening." Draeven’s voice was strained. "Gods, Kaelen, keep going."

"Oh, I intend to."

He leaned back in the chair. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, slowly, deliberately, and spread it wide, and she saw his chest rising and falling, the hard muscle, the pale skin. Her gaze dropped. Between his thighs, tenting the front of his trousers, was a thick unmistakable bulge.

"I felt you," he said, and his voice was almost reverent. "At three. Through the bond. I felt you come apart. I felt his hands on you, and the way you shook, and I lay on that floor and...." He stopped. His jaw clenched. "I’ve been thinking about it for six hours. I wanted to see it. Just once. I wanted to see what you look like when he fucks you."

She was shaking.

"And now I’m seeing it," he said. "And you’re so fucking beautiful I can hardly breathe."

Draeven groaned.

He drove into her harder, and her head tipped back against the glass. His mouth found her breast and sucked her nipple deep, and the sound she made was a sob. Her whole body was alive. She could feel Kaelen’s eyes like hands, stroking down her spine and over her breasts and between her spread thighs, and the knowledge of being watched, being wanted, being the center of two men’s burning attention, was an arousal she had no words for.

"Look at me," Kaelen said.

She did.

His blue eyes were dark with heat, almost black. He had unbuckled his belt. His hand was resting on his thigh, palm down, the knuckles white.

"Come Morgana," he said. "Let me watch you come."

"I can’t.....not again...."

"You can."

"Draeven...." She called out.

"He’s right," Draeven said, hoarse. "Let go."

She came with a shuddering cry.

It was a different kind of release, deeper, wilder, almost frightening in its force. Her body clenched around Draeven in hard hungry pulses. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Kaelen’s eyes burned into hers, and she saw him grip the arms of the chair and heard him groan, low and raw. The sound shot through her like lightning and wrung another wave out of her.

Behind her, the window frosted.

She felt it more than saw it, a sudden icy spread across the glass at her back, feathering outward from her shoulder blades in a pattern of delicate white veins. It cracked faintly. It sang.

Kaelen’s eyes flicked to the pane.

Then to Draeven.

Draeven gave the smallest shake of his head. Not now.

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. He looked back at her. His face was unreadable, but his hand, white-knuckled on the chair, relaxed.

"Beautiful," he said softly.

She sagged against the frosted glass, boneless, trembling.

Draeven was still hard inside her. She could feel him, huge and burning, held rigidly still, every muscle in his body locked. He had not come. He was shaking with the effort of it, sweat running down his temples.

"You didn’t," she whispered.

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because I’m not done with you." His eyes were wild. "And because I think someone else is not either."

She turned her head.

Kaelen was sitting forward in the chair, elbows on his knees. His trousers were open. His cock stood hard and flushed against his stomach, thick and long, the head dark and wet. He had not touched himself. His fists were pressed into his thighs like a man holding himself down by main force.

His eyes met hers.

"I’m fine," he said hoarsely. "I’ll stay here. I told you. I won’t touch unless you say so."

She looked at him.

She looked at the tension in his shoulders and the sweat on his collarbone and the raw hunger on his face. She remembered the first night, and the way he had said my little ward as though it were a vow. She remembered how he had waited at the door in the dark, because he needed to be close.

She thought, he’s been asking me with his whole body since he walked in.

"Kaelen," she said.

"Yes." He answered.

"Come here."

He didn’t move for a heartbeat.

Then he was out of the chair so fast that it scraped backward across the stone. He crossed the room in three strides and stopped in front of her, close enough that she felt the heat coming off him. The cold from the window bit at her back. The heat of both men surrounded her, a fire and a frost.

"Say it again," he said.

"Come here." She reached for him. "Kiss me."

He took her face in both hands.

His mouth came down on hers, and it was nothing like the kisses she knew. Kaelen kissed the way he did everything, with his whole body, all at once. It was fierce and hungry and a little desperate, the kiss of a man who had been starved too long. His tongue swept into her mouth. His hands slid into her hair. She tasted wine and mint and something wild, and she kissed him back just as hard.

Draeven’s grip tightened on her thighs.