Page 163 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Whiskey's hands are under my shirt now, palms flat against my stomach, fingers tracing the edges of muscle. He's mouthing at my throat, leaving marks I'll have to cover tomorrow, and when his teeth scrape against my pulse point, I make a sound that's embarrassingly close to a gasp.

"There it is," he murmurs against my skin. "Knew you had it in you."

"I will kill you."

"Promises, promises."

Valek's hand tightens on my neck. His eyes meet mine when I pull back from the kiss, and there's something almost vulnerable in them.

I don't know what I'm doing either but I'm here.

I don't remember deciding to move. One second I'm caught between them in the living room, the next I'm against my bedroom door with Whiskey's mouth still working against my throat and Valek looming somewhere to the side.

My hand finds the doorknob behind me and twists. We spill through the threshold and Whiskey kicks the door shut without looking, the sound of it slamming echoing through my skull alongside the rapid-fire pulse pounding in my ears.

My room is dark except for the blue glow of my alarm clock. Late enough that no one should come looking for us. Early enough that we have time.

Time for what?

I don't let myself finish the thought.

Whiskey's mouth finds mine again, swallowing whatever protest I might have mustered. His hands are everywhere. My shoulders, my waist, sliding up under my turtleneck to map the planes of my stomach with those rough callused palms. I make another humiliating sound against his lips.

Valek moves behind me. His chest presses against my back, solid and warm despite the perpetual coolness I've come to associate with him. His lips brush the shell of my ear.

"Bed?"

It's an actual question, not a command. I appreciate that more than I want to admit.

"Bed," I manage.

Valek walks me backward with a hand on my hip. Whiskey's still attached to my throat. The backs of my knees hit the mattress and I sit down hard, which they take as an invitation to crowd in from both sides.

Whiskey drops to his knees on the floor between mine. Valek perches beside me, one arm braced behind my back, his mouth finding the hinge of my jaw.

This is fine.

This is fine and I am in control of it.

"Wait," Valek says.

Whiskey's hands freeze on my thighs.

"What?" I snap, because my voice has gone rougher than I'd like and I'd rather sound irritated than whatever I actually am.

"Ivy," Valek says simply.

Whiskey tilts his head up, eyebrows drawing together. "As much as I fuckin' love the idea of getting our little lady involved, if we pop up anywhere near the loft while Wraith's eating, she's gonna fucking flip."

"But she won't mind?" Valek asks.

I open my mouth.

Whiskey beats me to it. "Nah, she reads spicy fics about you two. She told me."

"She what?" I snap.

Whiskey's already getting his phone out, his thumbs flying across the screen with a speed that should not be possible for hands that meaty. "Let's just ask her if you ain't sure."