Page 208

He could suck and slurp away, but if he expected me to come again, I would need a moment. Several of them. I couldn’t even drag my eyes open.

As he found his release, he refused to leave me behind, his thumb rubbing my clit at the perfect angle, tempo, and diabolical pressure. He roared and shuddered against me, his fangs retracting and his head falling to my back. Sweet fucking hell, my body locked up as the onslaught of another orgasm took hold, jolting me through a rampant cascade of shivery tingles.

Spent and quivering, I collapsed over the sink, but he didn’t stop his thrusting, didn’t soften, and didn’t pause to catch his breath. He released his hold on my sensitive clit, the only reprieve he gave me for the next minutes, hours…God, I didn’t know. The room faded away, taking all sense of time with it, as he fucked me through an endless dream of hungry, needful orgasms.

Finally, he pulled out, only to whirl me around, clutch the backs of my thighs, and pound me against the wall. His insatiable tongue stroked my mouth, and I devoured him, his scent, his grunts, his orgasms, and every starving kiss he gave and received.

He slammed against my inner walls, digging deeper, driving harder. “I can’t stop. Can’t get enough. I’m losing my fucking mind.”

I hooked my legs around his waist and held onto his shoulders. “Then don’t stop. Don’t let me go. Not now. Not ever.”

Eventually, he did stop. When my limbs hung limply in his grip and every ounce of energy had been fucked from my body, he quickly found his final release and lowered my feet to the floor.

I floated through a heady fog of happiness as he held me beneath the shower and rinsed the sweat and come from our bodies. I lay my head on his shoulder as he carried me through the bathroom, collecting our clothes and drying us off.

When he reached for the fangs in the sink and turned to drop them in the trashcan, I stopped him.

“I want those.”

His eyebrows dug together as he wrapped me in a towel and knotted another one around his waist. “Why?”

For all the hours he'd just spent with me, touching every inch of my body, kissing my lips, sipping my blood, and making me climax over and over, how could he not understand?

“They’re a part of you, and I want every last part.”

Cradling my exhausted body in his arms, he regarded me for a long moment before wrapping the fangs in the bundle of our clothes and carrying me out of the bathroom with slow and relaxed strides. I felt sluggish and heavy, as though I weighed a thousand pounds, yet his muscles didn’t strain, not a twitch, as he held me against his chest.

We didn’t pass anyone in the dimly lit tunnels, though I might’ve nodded off, clinging to the view of his hooded eyes and swollen lips. “You had…um, a lot of orgasms.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “So did you.”

“But guys have limitations. Recovery periods. Does your fast healing negate that?”

He nodded.

I chewed on my lip. “When the spiders bite humans, do they experience arousal?”

“No. The programming turned off that part of their brains. Their bites are neither intimate nor climax-inducing.”

Since Michio wasn’t programmed, the sink of his fangs was as sexual as the thrust of his cock.

His eyes glimmered. “Still think I can’t keep up?”

Oh, he was definitely proud of himself. It made my heart flutter.

It fluttered faster as the door to our room appeared down the hall.

I kissed his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. “Is it going to be weird sharing a bed with them?”

“We’ve done it before.”

When he was the only man I was intimate with. How would he react if he woke to Jesse or Roark fucking me beside him?

I kissed him again. “It’s different now.”

“I know.” His voice was gravely, and I couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

“Roark snores and invades personal spaces.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“And Jesse’s grouchy when he first wakes up.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to be okay. The four of us.”

I waited for another I know, but it didn’t come. Instead, he held me tighter, his chest hitching with a deep inhale, as he stepped into our room.

The door to our room was open, exactly how I’d left it, but the lights were off, the space dark and calm like the man who carried me in.

Michio shut the door and dropped our clothes, leaving the towels wrapped around us. As he strode toward the bed, my eyes slowly adjusted to the shadows. Jesse and Roark lay on top of the blankets, sprawled on their backs with enough space between them for me, as if waiting for me to fill that gap.

Where would Michio sleep? Squeezed in that narrow space with me? Or on either side of the guys? The way he tightly held me against his chest suggested he wouldn’t be releasing me anytime soon.