Page 123 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
“I believe it,” he murmurs, yanking on my hair just a little harder. “I’d believe it even more if you were to take that t-shirt off and show me your pretty cunt.”
“Oh, but I already offered that, and you turned it down,” I tease, and he gives me such a dark look that I shiver with pleasure. Sometimes, the darkness just chooses you. It’s chosen me, and I don’t even care. “You’re pretty, you know that, Calder Reid? So damn pretty.”
“I have to be,” he responds easily, as if that thought was never even in question. “It’s my one, saving grace.” He blinks, and it’s like he’s snapped into an entirely different mode. I sense it, too, and shift on his lap, anticipation spiking through me. We both know what’s about to happen. “A little birdy told me that you think you own the four of us, rather than the other way around.”
I narrow my eyes. Sin, that little shit.
“You guys talk about me when I’m not around?” I query, and Crown laughs. The sound is both pleasant and terrifying, all at the same time—but in a good way. In a very, very good way.
“Of course we do. All the time.” He releases his grip on my hair and strokes some of it back behind my ear, almost gently. Almost. Because there’s a terse warning there, a chance for me to say no to this moment, to change its course. I don’t. I want to play this game with Crown. This softness, it belies what’s truly going to happen the rest of the night. “We talk about the positions you like best, the sounds you make, how good you feel wrapped around our cocks.”
“Bullshit,” I snort, shaking my head at him. “I don’t believe that for a second. I can’t imagine you guys putting your jealousy aside long enough to have a conversation that’s anything like that.”
“Oh, well, you’d be surprised the way we can hype each other up. It’s part of the game, to see who can get you into bed next.” His smile turns into something autocratic, domineering, sexy as fuck. “Guess I win this round.” Crown snaps his fingers. “Now, take your goddamn shirt off and don’t make me ask again.”
I breathe deep, but I reach down and curl my fingers around the hem of the tee, lifting it up to reveal the heavy, aching mounds of my breasts, my already wet cunt, the slightly swollen front of my belly. It’s not much, not yet, but I can feel the changes already. Or shit, maybe I’m just bloated? Either way, it’s the baby’s fault.
Crown notices, too, teasing his fingertips across my navel.
“I hope this one isn’t mine,” he says absently, letting his eyes find my breasts next before lifting his gaze to my face. “I want that opportunity to keep you for myself, to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you until it takes.”
“Shut up,” I growl out, but he grabs me by the hair and gives it a tug.
“Shut up? Is that how you speak to me?” he asks, and then he drops his mouth to my nipple and sucks it into his hot mouth. I moan, even though I almost hate myself for giving in, arching my chest toward him. “You told Sin that you own us? Bullshit. You belong to me, and you know it.”
He releases me and lifts his chin in that haughty way of his.
“Get on all fours and present your cunt to me; I want to take it with my mouth from behind.”
I huff and start to move, but he grabs me by the chin and makes me look at him.
“Say yes, sir, and I’ll let your insolence go.”
“Yes, sir,” I drawl out, swinging my legs off his lap. He slaps me right in the ass, and I groan, even though it’s embarrassing as hell. How can I explain it? I don’t want to be told what to do in real life, but in the bedroom, it’s okay on occasion. More than okay, it’s what I want. It gives me a chance to just give up and let everything go, let the whole world become somebody else’s problem. That’s the appeal.
I get on all fours, my knees slightly spread as Crown moves around behind me.
He makes this … this sound when he sees what he’s looking at.
“Fuck, it’s so ripe,” he murmurs, reaching out and spreading me wide so that he can see the glistening pinkness underneath. “Like a goddamn peach or something.”
I bite the quilt beneath me to stifle my protests. I want this, but it’s still hard. I also want to kick Crown in the balls. That’s part of what makes it fun.
He grips my hips and then rubs his slightly stubbled face against the softness of my ass cheeks. The roughness of his hair makes me whimper, and I bite down even harder on the blanket to stifle the sound.
