Page 203 of G.O.D.S Omnibus
Davis wastes no time thrusting into me while I leave teeth-sized indents in my lip to stop myself from crying out. I have fucked them all enough now to know their tells, and his short, sharp thrusts let me know he is close to coming. That’s perfect, as I’m right there with him. He leans over me, and I let go—a sound that resembles a strangled cat leaving my mouth—dragging his orgasm out of him.
“That was cheating,” he says, slapping my ass. “I will have to teach you a lesson tonight when I can finish this properly and savour the moment.”
I fall to my side and roll onto my back. Davis pulls his shorts back up, then comes over to help pull my underwear up.
He leans forward, and a gasp parts my lips as his middle and index fingers push inside me. I almost think he wants to start again.
“I want your pussy full of my cum so you can feel me between your legs while you’re out.”
Fuck me, where has this Davis been hiding? Maybe he is a little more alpha than I thought. He pulls me to my feet, drops to his knees, then pulls my underwear up and secures it in place.
My hair is down today, styled it in some loose beach waves, and I haven’t bothered with much makeup. It goes against everything I have in me, as I feel like I can hide behind a mask of makeup, but pregnancy hormones have had me break out. I have never really had pimples in my entire life.
Marlow pops his head in and gives me a once over, opening his mouth and then closing it again before saying anything. “Wow, you look great. Are you ready?”
I look between Davis and Marlow. “You’re both coming with me?” My eyebrows rise in surprise.
“We are,” Davis says, jumping up from the bed. “I don’t know why you’re still surprised by that. One, its protocol. And two, after losing you once and almost losing you a second time, there is no way we will let you out of our sight.”
He kisses my cheek and walks towards the door.
“You know I can change protocol now,” I say, following them out of the bedroom.
“You could, but that still wouldn’t stop us. Really, you get us or them,” Marlow says, pointing to Creed, Chester, and Laughn. They are seated on the L-shaped lounge watching some murder documentary, along with commentary on what the killer did wrong and why they got caught. Which is slightly disturbing, but they let me be while I got ready. They have been hooked for the last two hours. It’s like a built-in babysitter for them.
“Good point,” I tell Marlow, and he smiles. Davis grabs his keys off the makeshift key rack on the wall.
I walk around the sofa and stand in front of the guys. I’m not sure where everyone else is today, but I catch the attention of Creed first. “Tenshi, where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”
Laughn wraps his hands around the back of my thighs and pulls me closer until I’m standing between his legs. “I don’t think she is going anywhere looking that edible.”
“Little Angel, you should change,” Chester suggests, which really isn’t a suggestion—he just makes it sound like one.
“No, I think I look cute.”
“Okay, I will be dressed in two minutes,” Chester counters.
“Reel in the possessive beast, please. Davis and Marlow will be with me, and I’m just having lunch with Melinda.”
Chester looks at his brother. “Anyone who looks at her—cut out their eyeballs.”
Marlow nods and then turns to wink at me.
“You’re impossible,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “There will be no cutting of anything.” I turn and storm from the room.
“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Chester calls out, followed by a laugh.
Davis and Marlow catch up to me. We are taking Davis’s car today, which isn’t much of a surprise. Marlow slips into the back seat, and I get into the passenger side.
“Boys Like You” by Anna Clendening softly plays through the car stereo as we pull out of the driveway. Davis tries to change the song, but with a tsk, I slap his hand away. We pass Boston on the road, and even though I doubt he will see it, I give him a wave.
We don’t have to drive for long before we pull up at a small but fancy café. Davis parks, and we all walk side by side into the building. Melinda is already seated in a booth.
“I’ll get you a drink,” Marlow says, walking up to the front counter.
“We will sit just over there and give you some privacy,” Davis says, nodding his head to an empty table diagonal to where she is sitting.
Making my way over to her booth, it gives me a spike of anxiety that Melinda has her back to us. I could never sit with my back to the entrance; I like to see what’s behind me, to know all my exits.
