Page 184 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

I inhale a quick breath in time with Tiger, hands flying to Ezla’s waist as his clamp down around her ribcage. It’s a slow process, and I feel a drop of sweat drag a path down my red-hot spine with every new inch of us she takes in.

When she’s seated, I blink rapidly, trying to comprehend all that I’m feeling. I’m pressed so tight to Ezla’s walls, and, like always, all I can see is her.

A whimper is pulled from my throat as her nails scrape over the back of my head. The action screams danger, and yet it’s one of the best things I’ve ever felt. Everything she does sends so many others running, and yet after Game 1, all of it has only ever drawn me in.

“You can move, but make sure it is in unison,” Ezla says. “You know I prefer it that way, and it will feel less strange for you.”

That familiar warmth heats my chest at her thoughtfulness, even if I’m hardly thinking about the fact Tiger is pressed right against me inside her, and I whisper, “O-okay.”

She starts to move a second later, one of her arms leaving me to travel over her shoulder. Her hand finds the nape of Tiger’s neck, her other moving to mine, and her head drops back, elongating the slim column of her neck as she rests it on his shoulder. Moaning her name in time with me when she squeezes around the two of us, he nuzzles against her, thick blond waves falling in his face. “Love you,” he groans into her as she rises and sinks back down, and I can feel his hips’ movement, letting me know he’s eager to start thrusting. He’s definitely never one to stay still.

“Should we—should we move?” I ask him.

Ezla’s eyes have fallen closed, and she doesn’t open them as she takes her pleasure, letting us get on with it as Tiger’s glittering eyes find mine and he nods eagerly. “Just, like, match Ezzy’s moves, and we’ll be in time.”

Gulping, my fingers clench, pressing into Ezla’s skin, and she seems to slow her pace just slightly to help us when I nod in return and we both push our hips up on her next downward thrust.

“That’s my good sluts.” Our Bonded’s purr is sinful, devilish, and I exchange a wide-eyed look with Tiger. “So perfect for me.”

Her words melt more of my anxiety away, and it’s really not as hard as I thought it would be to keep in time with my brother as we meet each of her movements, thrusting up each time she comes down. Soon, we’ve gained a steady rhythm, and my uneven breaths along with small sounds of pleasure I can’t keep in are running from me without pause.

Tiger’s in a similar state, his jumbled thoughts coming out to mix in with my whimpers: “Ezzy . . . yes, Ezzy . . . so, so amazing . . . so warm and tight and— Oh fuck, you’re clenching. She’s clenching.”

And yes, she really is. There’s already no room, but I really don’t know how on earth I’ve lasted this long when Ezla’s clamping down around us and completely strangling our cocks. Then again, I definitely won’t last a minute longer, and I let her know that with a choked-out, “I-I’m going to come. Are you close? Please be close.”

“Yes,” she breathes out, brown and green eyes opening a fraction to find me. “But I want you to suck on my breast while I do.” My head’s yanked forwards before I’ve had enough time to process her words, but I’m not complaining as my mouth opens in a heartbeat to take one of her nipples into it. “Good boy,” she rasps.

In my peripheral, I see Tiger’s hand swallow her right breast as he moans, “So pretty. You’re so pretty. Our empress.”

Her next clench is brutal, and then she’s coming.

“Fuck,” she cries out, and I’m with her once again, Tiger joining in this time. We both fill her up, my cock pulsing as I hold on to her for dear life, and so much love and happiness fills me up in return. I want to feel like this forever, to be in her arms forever. And with the Games over and Ezla’s love for me and my brothers clear as day, I’ve never been as certain that that’s exactly how it will be.

EPILOGUE 4

SCOTTY

“Surprise, fuckface.”

Just like the last time we showed up to Peter’s penthouse unannounced, Tate’s gloved hand wraps around the Showmaster’s neck before he’s dragging him deep into the lounge. Ezla calmly walks along a step behind him, and even with my biggest brother half strangling him, Peter’s bulged-out eyes zoom in on her and don’t leave for a second. And for someone who’s been as lacking in intelligence as he has over the past three weeks since we asked him to announce Joseph’s death to the world, he seems to find it pretty easily now—I can see the realisation dawning on him, the understanding of just why we’re here, the fact that we were always going to end up here.

Maybe I’d feel more guilty if he hadn’t made disgusting comments to my woman over the years, even if Ezla hasn’t gone into more detail than that.

“W-wait,” he wheezes, face already purpling as he coughs and gasps for breath. “Y-you said— I did e-every-thing you asked!”

With a simple flick of Ezla’s wrist, Tate loosens his hold before tossing the older Exot onto the nearest couch. While he gasps for breath, coughing and wheezing, she says evenly, “Yes, and so eagerly, too. I do so appreciate it.” She steps closer to him, reaching behind her at a leisurely pace for her armoury sticks, and with a manic-looking grin, Tate does the same. He’s been waiting for this moment for what feels like years at this point. “It is a shame your brain cells were not eager enough to say hello until now. Did you forget who I am?”

“No!” Peter cries. “Of course—of course not! I know you, Ezla—”

“Empress,” Tate growls, manifesting an Avri dagger in either hand.

“O-of course!” he repeats, voice rising several octaves. “E-Empress. But—but my job! I’m the Showmaster! I thought— Everyone needs me! It didn’t—doesn’t—make sense for you to kill me!”

Cooper scoffs, and when I look over at him beside me where the rest of us have come to stand in a line behind Tate and our Bonded, he’s looking at Peter with nothing but disgust. “Doesn’t make sense? I don’t know what exactly you’ve said to Ezla over the years, but I damn well know it wasn’t appropriate—”

“I haven’t said anything! I’m a good man! She’s—she’s lying!”

The blood in my veins boils over without warning, and I march right up to him, Tate shifting to the side without hesitation to allow me through when he sees the look on my face. I rarely lose control like this, but to accuse the woman I love of fucking lying about something like this . . . Grabbing the collar of Peter’s button-up, I yank him back to me as he tries to scramble away, lifting him from the couch and putting us at eye level. “What the fuck did you just say about my Bonded?”