Page 46 of Entwined
This is a choice we will never steal from her, no matter how desperate we are for that final claim.
Vaelor tangles his hand in the dark strands of her hair, yanking her head up, uncaring of the hours she’d spent getting her hair styled for the party.
“Don’t fuck with me,” he says through gritted teeth.
“I want your baby,” she tells him, all soft and sweet, her eyes dewy. “I wantbothyour babies. I want you to fill meso full of cum that I can taste it. I want you to be dripping out of me, slicking up my thighs. I want tosmelllike you, so everyone knows who owns me.”
“That’s right,” I mutter, my balls drawing up tight. “You are ours, aren’t you, baby? Our pretty little fuck doll. You need our cum.”
“I need it,” she mewls, her cheeks flushing. “Oh, god,please.”
“How’s she feel?” I rasp thickly, squeezing my dick roughly, trying to regain some control.
“Tight as fuck.” Vaelor’s grin is wicked as his eyes meet mine in the mirror. “She’s strangling my cock, Con. Should’ve fucking bred her years ago.”
“Please!” Felicity cries out, and Vaelor dips his hand down below her waist, his fingers going between her legs. It takes only seconds—less—and she’s screaming out her orgasm, Vaelor letting her hair go to slap a palm over her mouth to muffle the sound.
He groans as he follows her over the edge, and I quickly aim my dick downward, fist moving rapidly as my cum splatters across the bathroom floor.
“Shit,” I mumble, slumping back against the door. “That definitely made this night a little less boring.”
Vaelor smirks, pulling out of Felicity and helping put her back to rights. I tuck my softening dick away and clean the mess on the floor, before stepping up behind her, pulling the pins out of her wrecked hair, combing my fingers through the thick strands and settling it into wild waves around her shoulders.
She blinks at her reflection, cheeks crimson and eyes glazed. “Everyone’s going to know,” she murmurs.
I let out a low chuckle. I won’t lie to her. “If they can’t tell by your hair, they’ll tell by the smell of you.”
Felicity
Connor threads his fingers between mine, leading me out of the bathroom. Vaelor is behind us, but as we reenter the ballroom, he steps up to my side, his arm sliding around my waist.
“You alright, Princess?” he murmurs quietly, pressing his cheek to my temple.
I bite my lip, looking at him through my lashes. “I can feel you sliding down my thighs,” I whisper. “It’s messy.”
He grins, golden eyes flashing with satisfaction. “Good. It’ll teach you not to go without panties again.”
A loud bark of laughter escapes Connor that makes my cheeks warm. “You’re playing with fire tonight, Starling.”
He’s not wrong, but I’d known what I was doing when I made this particular clothing choice. Vaelor hadn’t actually been my intended target, knowing how much Connor hated these functions. But after he had run a hand over my ass and realized what I’d done, I’d barely blinked before finding myself being railed in a random bathroom.
Before Connor can say anything else, Marcia Thornton appears. “There you are,” she announces, but then pauses, her eyes—green, like her son’s—fixed on my head. “What happened, Felicity, dear? Your hair was…” Her nostrils flare, something knowing crossing her expression. “Ah. Well, never mind. I can guess who the instigator of this situation is.” She shoots both my mates a narrow-eyed look, and my cheeks feel like they’re on fire as I duck my head, hiding behind the fall of my hair.
Vaelor leans in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Should we tell her who the real culprit was?” I shush him, slapping at his chest, and he chuckles.
“Come on, then, all three of you. I have someone I want you to meet.” She leans in closer to me, dropping her voice. “Not to worry. She isn’t a shifter.”
“Oh, god,” I moan, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I really hadn’t considered how problematic going without underwear would be, but I’m realizing it now as my sticky thighs slide against each other.Saying I wanted to smell like them was one thing, but this…
Marcia ignores my dramatics, leading us across the room to where a willowy woman is standing, dressed in a stunning blood red floor-length gown. Her auburn hair is pinned into a loose chignon at the base of her head, curling strands framing her face. She sips from the champagne flute in her hand, her dark eyes on us as we approach.
“Amara, darling. This is my son, Connor, and his mates, Felicity and Vaelor.”
Amara smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Charmed. I’ve heard a lot about the three of you from Marcia.” Her voice is throaty, seductive, and a shiver rolls down my spine.
“As long as it’s from my mother and not the gossip,” Connor mutters, fingers tugging at his collar again. “I wouldn’t trust a word they say.”
“You are a favorite subject of conversation,” Amara agrees with amusement. “But then, it’s not often a shifter, a human, and a warlock mate, is it?” She turns to look at Vaelor. “I’ve heard many tales about your use of magic. Soul-binding a dying shifter at such a young age is unheard of.”