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Lightning and Claws

Page 64

by Layla Dorine

Rusty licked his lips, eyes darting Roark’s way as a slow flush crept up his cheeks, confirming Roark’s suspicions.

“You could have told me,” Roark said. “I’d have tried to give you what you wanted.”

Rusty shook his head, still silent, hands clasped on the comforter, his only response a tiny shrug as he blushed more.

“Wasn’t what you wanted,” Rusty finally admitted.

The rest was left unsaid, not that Roark needed words to understand the sentiment. Rusty had always put him first, on the road and in their home. When the Devils had fallen on lean times, Rusty had always slipped more of their meager meals onto Roark’s plate. More than once, he’d left himself open to being attacked in the middle of a battle by choosing to watch Roark’s back instead of protecting his own. Watching Rusty finally get what he craved meant the world to him. Logan even used his hair to entice, brushing it over Rusty’s abs, making them flex when he gasped and shuddered.

“Better than silk ropes,” Rusty groaned.

“Silk ropes, huh?” Logan growled. “Do you prefer them dragged over your body or to be bound in them, so you remember where to keep your hands?”

Roark hadn’t even noticed Rusty inching one hand down to reach for Logan again until he jerked it back up over his head while Logan chuckled, lips pressed against Rusty’s skin, so the vibrations made him laugh too.

“Both,” Rusty admitted, “and more if you’re into floggers.”

“I know what they are,” Logan admitted. “That’s about it. I wouldn’t be opposed to learning more.”

“Yes, please,” Rusty groaned.

“Do you know how good that sounds?” Logan murmured, kissing down Rusty’s abs, nipping, and dragging his teeth over Rusty’s skin until Rusty twitched like he was going to reach for him again, only this time, Rusty corrected himself.

He even managed to keep his hands on the bed when Logan licked his cock. Roark stroked his when Logan started sucking Rusty, who flipped his hands over, gripping the comforter until it was balled up in his fists. Whimpers and the occasional whine were the only sounds that escaped through clenched teeth as Logan took his time winding Rusty up, only to stop right before Rusty came.

Logan’s chuckle sounded both wicked and playful while Rusty grumbled curse words beneath his breath.

“You can wait a little longer, can’t you?” Logan asked as he nuzzled the inside of Rusty’s thigh, brushing along a spot that made Rusty raise his hips and moan.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Logan asked, glancing at Roark, who shrugged, too busy enjoying the show to try and interpret their mate’s noises.

“It’s a definite maybe,” Rusty growled.

“Really?” Logan purred. “So is the answer also maybe to the question of whether or not you want to take a ride on my cock?”

“Now that is a yes without question,” Rusty replied.

“Then the correct answer is yes, you can wait,” Logan said, chuckling when Rusty’s eyes widened before he eagerly nodded.

Trusting.

Roark could feel it through their bond.

In the past, during those rare times when they’d shared a third between them, Rusty had always run the show, right down to what they were and weren’t allowed to do with Roark. This was so different. Better. As their mate, Logan was taking the time to finesse Rusty into completely surrendering to him.

Logan crawled off Rusty, pointing at him when Rusty started to move and giving a sharp shake of his head. “No one told you to move yet. I want to see if you enjoy watching as much as Roark does.”

When Logan held out his hand, Roark scrambled off the bed to take it and let Logan maneuver him so he was right in Rusty’s line of sight before shoving him face down on the bed. Roark felt his knees pressed towards his shoulder and tugged until they were widely spread, leaving him splayed out like a frog. Roark raised his head to see Rusty watching him, eyes bright with lust, hands still tangled in the comforter he’d messed up.

“I’m going to be a little busy,” Logan announced, palming Roark’s ass cheek and giving it a squeeze. “You’ll tell me if he tries to move, won’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” Roark stammered when Logan licked right between his crack.

“Traitor,” Rusty groaned.

Roark reached for a pillow, barely able to grasp the edge of one and tug it closer so he could rest his head on it and watch Rusty squirm as he watched Logan pleasure Roark. That tongue dipping, lapping, he’d cleaned thoroughly, the same as the night before and the night before that, hoping one of his mates would be up for at least a round of rough, hard fucking before they passed out.

No such luck…until now.