Page 23 of All Saints Day (Lucifer and the Saints #2)
Sensation gusts through me as Seb presses the first few inches of his girth inside of Dennis’ red-hot tightness.
“ Mon-dieu ,” Seb grunts out as he lurches against Dennis—in turn drawing cries from Dennis, Q, and Caz as they all move together.
Through the symphony of sensation, I could swear that I actually feel the walls of my pussy stretch as my Saints begin to fuck one another in a slow and syrupy series of gyrations and grinding.
I can feel everyone’s building desperation—the quickening of so many bodies singing out with shared pleasure.
“I’m not going to last like this,” Dennis grunts out, his hips dipping in deep scooping motions as he fucks Quentin—his knot pressing against Q’s ass with each seeking thrust.
“Me neither,” Caz whimpers—his cock bouncing up and down as he rides Q on the shared momentum from Dennis and Seb.
“I’ve been on the edge of cumming as soon as I got inside our little fraise d’or ‘s tight hole,” Seb growls out, his hands gripping the pinch of Dennis’ waist below the triangular slope of his muscular back—bronze thumbs resting in the dimples of McBride’s lower back as he pumps himself inside Dennis up to his dusky purple knot.
“What about you, Louie?” Q pants as his eyes roll toward the ceiling—my cunt coiling around a phantom hot hardness so tight I consider that I might be cumming right now.
I’m close, so fucking close. My mind screams—the harmonious union of my pack calling to me across space and time.
“I’m gonna cum!” Caz cries out, his head lolls back—Dennis reaches out a hand to wrap around Caz’s bouncing pierced cock just before he shoots a pearly load over Q’s chest.
Dennis lets out a low growl as he sinks his teeth into the right side of Caz’s neck.
Seeing Caz cum in thick pearly ropes over Q’s chest as Quentin’s own cock milks Caz’s prostate is enough to break Seb. I feel the powerful rolling thunder of his orgasm approaching as he slams his hips against Dennis’ ass.
“Holy fuck,” Dennis bites out as Seb’s knot prepares to stretch him to his limits—Dennis’ own knot banging at Quentin’s gates.
I can feel my own orgasm building—a pressure at my pussy lips like a knot about to force its way inside me.
“Do it now, Dennis!” Quentin cries out as he tightens around Dennis—his balls lifting as his cock pistons in and out of Caz’s ass; the pale theta still riding at pace along with his packmates.
Dennis pries one of Quentin’s hands from Caz’s waist— placing a kiss in the center of Q’s palm before he drops his lips to Q’s wrist, a ways down from my own bite.
Seb’s hands creep up from Dennis’ hips to his traps as he careens through the last few fevered thrusts before climax.
Dennis turns his face to the side, pearly canines flashing as Seb offers him the tender flesh of his left wrist.
As soon as Dennis bites down on Seb, I feel the explosion as Seb, Quentin, and Dennis all fire into orgasm—like a massive building collapsing in on itself all at once on demolition day.
Seb’s knot disappears inside of Dennis’ ass as Seb sinks his teeth into Dennis’ left shoulder—both of them howling their orgasm as Seb unhinges his bite and Dennis’ knot is sucked inside of Quentin.
I feel my body threaten to shake apart as I roll through my own earth-shattering orgasm—the hot full feeling of cum pouring inside me as Dennis empties his balls inside Q; Seb’s knot slamming home inside of Dennis—Seb decanting himself inside the alpha as his teeth sink into the meat of Dennis’ left trapezius muscle.
Suddenly everything shifts—and I’m not in the cabin with the other Saints and their bonding bites—nor am I back in the sterile white of my cell.
Instead, I am in a luxury hotel in Washington DC—a fabulous art déco room outfitted in black, white, and gold.
It isn’t as bright and clear as the reception from my bonded fated mates, but more like the grainy, static-laden tracking of an old VHS tape.
Vaguely, I understand that it must be one of Dennis’ memories that I’m experiencing vicariously down the line between me and my bonded mates Frank and Mike Duboze fucking Dennis raw—the two of them cumming inside the young, green Dennis once each before he slips out of their hotel room—bowlegged and delightfully sore, into the balmy summer night.
Then everything loses that specific focus—that resonation of the shared memories of the mating bond becomes hazier, further away—like watching a reflection in a fogged mirror you’ve done your best to wipe clear with the blade of your hand; a smeared and misty image of Frank and Mike Duboze making love against the windowsill as they look out at the lights of the city at night.
Mike’s teeth make the tiniest of tears in the cartilage of Frank’s right ear—Frank sinking his teeth deep into Mike’s forearm—braced against the window-frame.
My body flies apart—across time and space as I submit to the sublime pleasure of so many lovers, past and present—and I ascend to the stars, the borders on myself temporarily lost.