Page 56

The counter edge digs into my thighs, but the discomfort is distant, overwhelmed by the building pressure. Talon's movements grow more urgent, more demanding, driving me toward another peak.

“Scream my fucking name, princess. I need to hear it on those sweet lips of yours,” he commands, his thumb finding my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. “Wake up the entire fucking apartment, princess.”

My body obeys like it was made to respond to his command. Pleasure crashes over me, intense and unrelenting, my inner walls clenching around him as I cry out his name. The sound echoes through the quiet kitchen, probably loud enough to wake the others, but I’m beyond caring.

Talon's rhythm falters as my release triggers his own. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside me, his body tensing as he finds his release. His groan mingles with my gasps, our bodies locked together in shared ecstasy.

We stay like that for a while. Me still trembling on the counter, legs draped around his waist, Talon pressed between them, his chest heaving against mine. Sweat clings to our skin, the air thick with sex and something heavier neither of us is ready to name.

I drag my fingers slowly over his shoulders, tracing the curve of muscle and ink, grounding myself in the steady thump of his pulse beneath my touch.

“That was…” I start, but the words vanish—too small for what just happened.

Talon exhales, the sound rough, almost a laugh. “Yeah.” He presses a kiss to my temple, softer than I expect, lingering just long enough to make my chest ache. “It fucking was.”

A soft chuckle escapes him as he carefully withdraws from me, the loss of connection making me whimper slightly. He reaches for a dish towel hanging nearby, dampening it with warm water from the sink before tenderly cleaning between my thighs. The gesture is unexpectedly intimate, his touch gentle as he takes care of me.

“The ice cream's melted,” I observe, glancing at the forgotten container on the counter beside us.

Talon grins. “I’ll buy you more.”

He helps me down from the counter, my legs wobbling slightly. The cool air of the kitchen raises goosebumps across my naked skin, and Talon quickly retrieves my discarded t-shirt, pulling it over my head with surprising tenderness.

We hear someone clear their throat and turn to see Alex standing in the shadows. His expression is unreadable, but his rigid posture speaks volumes.

“Fuck,” Talon hisses under his breath, positioning himself slightly in front of me despite the fact I'm now covered by my shirt. “We need to put a fucking bell on you, man.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Alex says deceptively casual. “The ice cream was a nice touch.”

Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what his words imply. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” His glances from my face down to my bare legs and back up again with deliberate slowness. “Don't stop on my account. The kitchen counter is an….inspired choice.”

Talon reaches for his sweatpants, pulling them on with quick efficiency. “Did you need something, or are you just enjoying the show?”

“I came to get some coffee,” he explains, though his tone suggests coffee is the furthest thing from his mind. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be up, or fucking on the kitchen counter.”

“We were just heading back to bed.”

“Were you?” Alex’s attention flicks to the melted ice cream container, then back to my flushed face. “Looks to me like you were just getting started.”

I should feel embarrassed, being caught like this, but Alex's face stirs a different emotion entirely. He’s shut me down twice now. His blue balls are his own fault.

“Do you often lurk in the shadows watching people?” I ask him.

A hint of a smile touches Alex's lips. “Only when the show is worth watching.”

“Alex,” Talon warns, but there's a strange undercurrent to his voice that I can't quite decipher. “Enough.”

“What?” Alex shrugs before heading towards us. “Don’t fuck in the common spaces if you don’t want spectators.” He stops, reaching over finger and grazes against my cheek. On the pad of his finger is a smear of melted ice cream. He smiles as he draws his finger to his mouth, sucking it between his lips. “Chocolate is better,” he comments.

My thighs press together involuntarily. “Chocolate with caramel,” I reply, my voice steadier than I feel. “Sweet and salty.”

“I'll remember that.”

Talon clears his throat, his hand finding the small of my back. “We should get some sleep.”

The word choice isn't lost on any of us. Alex's lips quirk up at one corner as he turns away, busying himself with the coffee maker.