Marcus’s hands on my hips encouraged the turn, and I flipped over. Rafael tugged his wet pants down over his rigid dick. He didn’t have to say anything—I was eager to get my hands on him. My fingers wrapped around his length.
And I issued a command of my own. “Up.”
His breath hissed between his teeth as I used my unique handle to lift him until he was seated on the edge of the pond, and then, I lowered my lips to him.
The sound that emerged as I laved him with my hot, wet tongue sent a thrill straight through me, and I arched my hips toward Marcus.
“Fuck. Yesss,” he said.
You’re speaking my language, I mentally purred to him, as my mouth was otherwise occupied. I wiggled my hips in invitation.
With an incoherent curse, he took me. Tried to do it gently, but I pushed backward, demanding. Wrapped in the Satyr’s pheromones, he lost all control. I moaned around Rafael as Marcus hit every zone I possessed. Then he started to rotate, rubbing those delicious scales against me—and it robbed me of much-needed breath.
Rafael had his hands buried in my hair, guiding my movements. When I glanced upward, his eyes were glowing, but also glazed, as if he were lost in sensation. What came from him now was a chaotic collage of flashed memories.
Havoc leaned back against the pool’s side, erect and still quivering. When he reached to ease his turmoil, Rafael held up a finger.
“No,” he said.
His copper eyes ignited. “No one says ‘no’ to me.”
“I do.” Rafael lowered his finger.
Havoc closed his eyes, but his lips were curled in a snarl, and his hand fell to his side.
Meanwhile, Marcus’s movements sent little waves cascading over the edge of the pool to lap at my chin and Rafael’s balls. Rafael groaned again, long and low, and thrust into my mouth as Marcus’s scales rubbed and circled against me, and I uttered another helpless, incoherent sound.
That’s it, Wiley. I want to hear you howl.
I was close to that, as well as much more, all while being effectively silenced. And squirming. And arching my butt so high I was almost bent in two.
Marcus leaned his hard body over me and wrapped his big hands beneath my breasts, flicking my nipples…
Holy freaking fuck.My body tightened around him, and his dick kicked deep inside me—
“No,” Rafael said. “Not yet. Wait.”
“What?” I growled around him, poised on the edge of orgasmic oblivion.
“Frek.” Marcus wasn’t faring much better.
“Pull out.” Rafael told him.
It wasn’t a request, but this time the words had an undercurrent of desperation to them. His eyes glowed. As I gazed deep, I saw a flicker of something other than physical anguish.
As my mind struggled to connect the dots, my body ached for culmination. Marcus froze—but his dick was still kicking like a mule inside me, threatening to take me there despite Rafael. Then, with a shudder, he backed away.
“Nice to know I’m not the only one about to die when my balls explode,” hissed Havoc.
In my peripheral vision, I noted that the black scales had expanded across Marcus’s chest. Rafael reached to lay a hand on his arm. “You have to wait as well,” he said, his voice resonating with power. And to my amazement, the scales retreated.
Fuck. The Storm Drake too?
“Stand with us.” Rafael’s eyes closed when he gestured to Marcus and Havoc. “If you so desire, you may touch yourselves.”
Both men immediately put hands to their rigid selves and began to stroke.
“Slowly,” Rafael commanded. “Don’t come until I tell you.”
