Page 89 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves
I just barely resist the urge to kiss him or commit a felony. “Oh, I’ve been ready. Casserole’s warm. Lube’s on the nightstand. Knives are in the drawer labeled foreplay.”
Edgar hums. “And dessert?”
I smirk. “Already melting.”
Blake makes a sound that can only be described as religious.
Carson’s fingers curl around my hips, bracing for impact, steady and sure and searing through the silk of my skirt. His lips are at my ear again, voice a low, controlled burn. “Then we’ll take our time. Make sure every course is savored.”
Blake’s already kneeling, the chocolate milk abandoned on the counter. His hands shake as they skim up my calves, under my skirt. “Let me,” he says, breathless. “Please.”
I lift one foot, then the other, and he slides the skirt down inch by inch. It puddles at my ankles. His mouth presses to myinner thigh like a benediction. One kiss. Two. A whisper I don’t catch but feel all the way up my spine.
Edgar tuts, stepping behind me. “You’re all taking too long,” he purrs, fingers sliding my blouse off my shoulders in one fluid motion. “She’s melting, boys. We’ll need a spoon.”
Carson steps back just enough to let Edgar undress me from behind, but not enough to stop touching me.
Edgar’s hand finds my throat, just resting there. A reminder. A promise. “Color?” he asks.
I smile wickedly. “Lemon-drop yellow.”
He groans, like I’ve just shot him in the dick with a Cupid arrow dipped in battery acid and lingerie. His palm stays firm. Confident.
My blouse drops to the floor. Carson’s already undoing the clasp on my bra, knuckles grazing my skin.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” Blake whispers, brushing a thumb over the lace of my panties. “You always are, but like this... all of us here? You’re glowing.”
I lean down, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make his eyes roll. “Then make me shine, baby.”
Edgar chuckles darkly. “Careful, Blake. She’ll make you come just from undressing her.”
“Already close,” Blake says. “Swear to god.”
Carson peels the last of my clothes away, his hands skimming over every inch like he’s taking mental inventory. “She’s perfect,” he says to them. “Ours.”
Blake presses a kiss to my hipbone. Edgar hooks a finger in the waistband of my panties and draws them down so slowly it borders on cruelty.
They’re still warm from the heat of me. He pockets them.
“For safekeeping,” he says, entirely unapologetic.
I’m naked now, surrounded, and they haven’t even undressed yet. Blake looks ready to pass out. Carson’s jaw istight, controlled. Edgar’s smiling like he’s reading the last page of a very dirty novel.
“Who first?” I ask, teasing. “Or do I pick who opens the ceremony?”
Edgar lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “You’re the bride tonight, dove. The altar’s yours.”
I look down at Blake, flushed and panting, still on his knees.
“You,” I say, touching his cheek. “Mouth first. And don’t you dare hold back.”
He grins like he’s seen heaven and hell and wants to lick both. Then he scoops me up like I’m something fragile, sacred. He’s trembling, poor thing, all that need barely contained in his pretty, boyish frame.
Carson’s moving ahead of us, pulling back the sheets like he’s prepping a crime scene, meticulous, focused, reverent in his own ruthless way.
Edgar trails behind, fingers grazing Blake’s arm, my shoulder, his voice like silk soaked in sin. “She’s glowing,” he says, like it’s fact, like it’s science. “Dripping honey and gold. You lucky fuck, Blake. You get to taste the sun.”
Blake lays me down like a man offering up a prayer. Knees already sinking into the mattress. He kisses the inside of my thigh like it’s instinct. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he breathes, eyes wide. “Or slow down. Or... or never stop ever again.”
