“I still want that taste.”
My head was lying back on Johnno’s shoulder, his woody scent drowning me, leaving me lightheaded and pleasantly fuzzy. I looked up at Liam with effort, Johnno dragging my lips back to his as soon as I did.
“Those damn sugar cookies…”
“Pretty sure I’d taste like Jake’s cum, right now,” I replied, looking into those desperate blue eyes. I liked him like this, Liam, unhinged for me. The mask was ripped off, leaving only this.
“No, Kira. There’s only you now. Let me taste you. Baby, I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”
I straightened up, watching him drop down to his knees again. Would I ever get sick of that? My answer came when I separated my thighs, feeling the slick skin there.
“Yess…” Liam hissed and crawled forward.
Why the hell hadn’t I done this before? For someone who liked to run his fucking mouth, he was damn good at using it on me. His tongue was slow and considered, like it was trying to memorise every inch of me, giving me a little relief in the form of a few clit flicks before his very thorough inspection continued. Johnno scooped me up as I panted through it, slinging one leg, then another over his brother’s shoulders.
“Fuck, yeah,” Liam groaned, the sound muffled as his face was forced right up against me. “I want you to burst all over my face.”
Johnno leaned me back a little, the tension in my core only making the pleasure sharper. “You gonna come, beautiful girl?” He wrapped my arms around his neck, holding me suspended between the two of them so his hands could push my dress down now, baring me to him, then his hands moved with a curious reverence, broken only when they clamped down hard on my nipples.
“Yes!” I ground out, feeling that traitorous throb between my legs, Liam’s fingers shoving inside right at that moment and hooking upwards.
I should’ve known something was up. I should’ve remembered that we’d come here with a purpose and this wasn’t it. The thought occurred for a split second, a wisp of a thing that quickly disappeared again as they drove me slowly mad.
Instead, I did just as Liam asked, coming in a flood that he just licked up and kept on licking in little soft caresses that just drew the pleasure out with an intensity that made me cry.
“You’ve had yours,” Johnno said, all business, picking me up and placing me back on my feet in front of a sink. I looked blearily into the mirror and saw a typical fae. My smeared makeup and tousled hair just looked right, beautiful rather than the hot mess I was, then I saw Johnno over my shoulder.
“I wanted to do this right. Had so many ideas and plans. There were roses and satin sheets and…”
“And?”
“I’m not the man I want to be. If I was, I’d hold off, take you out, do this right.”
I grinned. Johnno Pureheart and his cliched romantic bullshit. It was sweet, though deluded. We weren’t capable of such niceties.
“But you’re a bad man.”
Liam’s catlike smile echoed mine in the mirror.
“I’m a bad man,” he agreed, undoing his belt with a jerk, pulling his rock-hard dick out.
“So show me how a bad man fucks.”
Hard, apparently. He gave me little warning, just slapping a hand down on my shoulder before notching himself and then driving in. My mouth formed a blurry red O in the mirror at the first stroke, then my head dropped down, unable to watch anymore, because I just needed to feel.
Sometimes, a girl just wanted to be fucked with hard stabbing thrusts that created a mindless roar of sensation, driving out thought and emotion as he thrust into you. I was forced up onto my toes, my legs quivering with the effort of taking him entirely, Johnno bottoming out on every stroke, and I was here for it.
There was no teasing, no stroking, no careful, considerate caresses to make sure I came. Finer feelings had no place, there was only this. My head whipped up, eyes finding Johnno’s in the glass, unsurprised when his and mine bled red.
“Beautiful girl.”
My gaze jerked sideways, feeling like they burned in the sockets, to find Liam beside me. I watched him pull his cock out, nice and slow as his brother railed me. My mouth was watering by the time he pulled it free.
“And what do we do about this?” he asked, giving it a stroke, slow and casual, like it meant nothing, and my brows knotted. I could see the rigid red throb of it. He needed more, so much more.
“You want more,” I ground out, my skin feeling too tight, too hot.
“I always want more. You know that. I want every fucking thing you have to give, Kira, and then I want some more.” He bent down, catching my mouth on the downstroke. “I want your body, I want your heart, and I want your soul, because you fucking have mine.”
I wrapped my lips around his dick, let myself be caught on the end of two Hartleys, shuttled between the two of them, because this, focussing on fucking, was so much easier than what he proposed.
We set a terrible rhythm, of slapping bodies and suckling mouths. Of fingers raking over flesh and tangling in hair. You’ve gotta run with the beat inside you. Jake’s words played over and over in my head as I came apart slowly, the Hartleys smashing through all my defences all over again, breaking down what was Kira or Johnno or Liam and replacing us with this.
Which was perhaps why they came.
Billy emerged out of the shadows, a dark figure with eyes that glittered like jet, prowling over, taking everything in until his hand landed on my spine. Luc pushed through the door with some effort, the lightning in his eyes flashing red as he strode in, Jake following along in his wake. Closer, they came, closer, closer, closer.
I whined around Liam’s cock, him hissing in response as connections were made. Hands on my thighs, my shoulder, in my hair. Each link made me jump like I’d touched a live wire.
And perhaps I had, because it coursed inside me now. Connection. Fuck, I was sick of that damn word, but what else was this? Why did we care about some people and not others? Why did we obey some institutions and not others? Why did we put ourselves through the indignities of school, university, work, family if not for this? I knew the beat that was inside Jake, because it beat inside all of us now. It drove Johnno’s hips, his cock. It pushed Liam’s dick into my mouth, controlled the suction of my lips, the swivel of my tongue, and it controlled us as we galloped closer.
“That’s the beat. That’s the beat,” Jake murmured to himself, shaking his head from side to side in time with it.
“What the fuck is going on?” Luc asked, staring at the mirror.
“What has to,” Billy, Johnno, and Liam said in various states of pain and pleasure.
“You remember how this goes. It’s gonna fucking hurt again,” Billy snapped.
Jake denied that, beating his spare hand on his chest in time with the one inside his head.
“My eyes weren’t fucking red last time!” Luc said.
“Ssh…” Jake hissed, frowning for a second, trying to reconcile what he remembered and what he saw.
They stood there on the stage, with that wiry toughness only young men seem to possess, all baby faced, holding their instruments like they fucking owned them, moving to the front to stare down the crowd below.
These were not fans. They looked out into the dead eyed stares of Court Rutherglen, even Jen sitting there at her father’s right hand. They stared down into the dead silent crowd, and then Liam nodded to Jake, the man grabbing his sticks and striking the initial beat.