Page 166 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I open my mouth and the cock that slides past my lips is nothing like Whiskey's. Longer, but not as thick. Cool skin warming fast against my tongue. And something else that's cool.

Piercings.

Three of them, barbells all the way down his shaft.

His breath catches and his hand tightens in my hair. "Slowly," he says. "I'd like to remember this."

"Why?" I try to ask, irritated, but it comes out as another growl and makes his breath leave him in a whoosh. His fingers flex against my scalp and for the first time in the entire duration of our acquaintance, I have the upper hand on Valek fucking Carter.

He doesn't respond.

I take him deeper, his piercings cold against my tongue.

He makes another sound, quieter.

There.

Whiskey, meanwhile, is sucking increasingly hard. His hands have moved to my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows there, anchoring me in place so I can't buck into his mouth the way my body keeps trying to.

It is, I realize with the distant detachment of a man watching his own house burn down, a genuinely coordinated effort.

Whiskey is pacing me.

He slows when Valek's fingers tighten in my hair. Speeds up when Valek's breathing goes shallow. He's reading Valek reading me and adjusting accordingly, like this is a fucking relay race and he's the anchor leg, and for a creature I have spent years dismissing as operating purely on cheeseburgers and energy drinks, his sudden awareness is almost insulting.

My hand finds Valek's thigh. The fabric of his pants is still bunched where he couldn't be bothered to push them lower. My fingers dig in.

"Plague," he pants.

I take him deeper.

His hips twitch once, a small involuntary thrust, and then he forces himself still.

I feel the effort in the tremor of his thigh under my palm. I pull back just enough to swirl my tongue around the head, the way that drove me insane earlier when Whiskey did it to me.

Valek makes a choked sound. His thumb strokes along my temple, an absurdly gentle gesture for what my mouth is currently doing.

CLICK.

What the fuck was that?

A camera shutter sound?

I jerk back. Valek's hand tightens in my hair just enough to keep me in place, and when I look up with absolute murder in my eyes, he's holding his phone at arm's length, angled down at us with a wolfish grin splitting his face.

He took a fucking selfie.

Of the three of us in a cock sucking chain.

"The little lady wanted a picture," Valek says casually, as if this is a perfectly reasonable explanation. "I could take another if you don't like the angle?"

I glower at him.

He sends it.

Ivy's reply flashes across the top of his screen.

IVY