Page 47 of Caretaker

“Trinity,” Rhys ordered, then shoved Clayton back against the wall.

I rushed to get as close to Clayton as I could without actually touching him, and I began to murmur into his ear. “Close your eyes, Clayton. Close your eyes and feel me. Feel me touching you…”

And finally, he stopped trying to fight his need. His entire body shook as almost silent moans slid from between his lips.

I heard the snick of his zipper, and I slid my fingers down Rhys’s arm and covered his hand with mine.

Rhys’s hand was the only barrier between Clayton’s flesh and my fingers, and I slid my hand up and down his warm, hard, familiar length, and I whispered into his ear, and I helped him find his release.

I met Rhys’s hot, dark stare, and we bonded in a different way as we helped Clayton achieve something he could not achieve alone. And in the end, when Clayton groaned and ejaculated his seed all over my hand, I lifted it to my mouth and both men watched as I licked it off.

“Fuck, Trinity,” Rhys said.

He walked away, but not before shooting me a smile that nearly set me on fire.

“Rhys,” Clayton called, as Rhys opened the front door.

Rhys hesitated, then turned his head to look at his friend. He opened his mouth, and I was nearly certain he was about to apologize, but before he could, Clayton spoke again.

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem, man.”

We left the way station to go prepare for the night ahead. I would retrieve Angus that night, or likely, I would die.

And I couldn’t die—not yet. My supernaturals needed me.

Almost as much as I needed them.

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