The door bursts open.
“Oh, good. Here I thought I’d find you two trying to kill each other.” Dario’s amused voice fills the space.
Kaz doesn’t even blink. “Unless moya malyshka sucking my soul out of my cock is considered trying to kill me, then no.”
I gasp, my face heating, but I can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes me. The shock on Dario’s face makes it even better.
“Well, glad you two have been busy.” Keir’s voice is smooth, but there’s an edge beneath it. He steps into the bathroom, his hazel eyes flicking between Kaz and me. His clean-cut bearded jaw tenses as his gaze lingers on my body—on the fresh bruises, the cuts, the way Kaz is standing between my legs.
His gaze darkens. “What exactly are you two doing?”
“Kaz was just about to restitch my wound,” I explain, my pulse kicking up for an entirely different reason now.
Keir steps closer, his presence thick in the already-steamy room. “Without anything for the pain?” His voice is low, smooth.
“I, uh… yeah. Should be fine.”
Keir stops beside Kaz, his body radiating heat. My heart hammers as his large, calloused tattooed hand glides up my thigh, slow and deliberate. I inhale sharply, my legs instinctively clenching around Kaz’s hips.
“You’re already wet, princess,” Keir murmurs, dragging his fingers along my inner thigh, so close to where I ache.
Kaz presses a cloth to my wound, and I exhale shakily.
Keir’s fingers stroke higher, brushing against my slick heat. “I think you need a distraction,” he whispers.
A whimper escapes me as finger strokes me, sliding through my wetness with a slow, teasing stroke. My hips jerk forward, seeking more. The sharp sting of the needle pushes into my skin at the same moment Keir presses a single finger inside me.
I cry out, my head falling back, pleasure and pain mixing into something dizzying.
Dario curses. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Keir groans, his finger flexing inside me. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
His eyes widen slightly, “Untouched.”
Heat coils low in my stomach as he curls his finger just right. My free hand flies up, tangling in the back of his hair, my body rocking into his touch.
Kaz hums in approval. “She takes pain well,” he observes, tying the last stitch.
Keir slides a second finger inside me, his thumb circling my clit. “Of course she does,” he murmurs, watching my face.
A desperate moan rips from my throat, my pussy clenching around him.
His fingers retreat, and I whimper at the loss—only to gasp when he pinches my clit before he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean, his hazel eyes locked onto mine.
“Tastes even better than I imagined.”
My breath hitches.
Kaz winks at me. “Your stitches are done.”
Then walks out of the bathroom but I barely process it.
Because Keir just dropped to his knees.
Chapter 12
Keir
