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Nash, unperturbed by our visitor, snakes his tongue out and flicks it over that tiny bundle of swollen and throbbing nerves that begs for his attention. I twist my hands, loosening the bindings. When I get free, I’m going to flip Nash over and drive him freaking crazy.

“Get her hands,” Nash growls. “She’s about to be free.”

My body freezes. How does he know?

Hart strides over, still wearing his arrogance like a second skin, but beneath it is a hunger. One born of full moons, shadowy rooms, and whispered pleas. He slides his ass onto the bed next to me and curls one of his hands around my wrists, keeping them prisoner.

“Why are you here?”

He shakes his head before surprising me by leaning down to drop a hard kiss on my lips.

“Take your eyes off me and this all stops, Daphne,” Nash drawls.

I break our kiss to glare at Nash and his beautifully arrogant face. “I’m looking,” I snap. “But you aren’t doing anything. Unless the previous time was a fluke, and the reason Hart is here is to help you find my orgasm.”

Hart huffs a laugh. “Playing with fire,” he mumbles as his thumb draws lazy circles on my wrist.

Nash growls low before sliding his tongue down and inside of me.

My breath stalls, and I curse the Idols for not giving me the feminine knowledge to find this kind of pleasure before now.

Then again, the only man I previously let near my floof was Hansel, and after that unnoteworthy experience, I chalked sex up to be something men desired and women tolerated.

Given I wasn’t tolerating a man, I didn’t need to tolerate sex.

Nash alternates between ruthlessly thrusting his tongue inside me, much like I would imagine he does with his cock, and sucking on that swelling bud that makes me see stars.

I squirm beneath him as he doesn’t stick to a rhythm. Every time I think I’m about to tip over, he pulls back or changes what he is doing.

“Are you trying to drive me mad?” I shout.

Nash winks at me as he changes to tongue thrusting again. He groans every time I clench around him, so I do it more. If he’s intent on driving me mad, he can join me.

“How does she taste, brother?” Hart snarls. My eyes flick to him. The black of his pupils has almost swallowed his grass-green eyes.

“Addictive. Like whiskey and sunshine,” Nash mumbles before he drags his teeth over the vulnerable skin of my inner thigh. “Have you ever tasted yourself, Daphne?”

I blink at him. How does one taste oneself? I am me. Surely I’m doing that all the time. Clearly, he’s lost his marbles.

“I think Calamity needs a demonstration,” Hart says.

Nash’s gaze dances with mirth as he slowly pushes one of his fingers inside of my body, making my legs tremble.

He’s careful not to give me enough to tip me over the edge as he withdraws and lifts his hand to paint my lips with the wetness clinging to his finger.

My wetness. Holy Idols, this is the dirtiest and hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

Hart swoops down and runs his tongue over my bottom lip before pushing it inside my mouth.

My musky yet sweet taste explodes on my tongue, making me gasp into Hart’s mouth.

His free hand digs into my hair as he deepens the kiss. Nash resumes his torture between my legs and pulls back twice more, making me sob into Hart’s embrace.

I tear my lips away. “I need to come,” I grind out.

“She doesn’t seem contrite enough, brother,” Hart says. “Keep going.”

I jerk my head up and snap my teeth at him.

He leans back with a look of faint amusement.

I open my mouth, about to tell him he can shove contriteness up his Hallowed ass, but Nash clasps that throbbing bud between his teeth and I freeze.

My heart thumps like thundering hoofbeats.

Hart checks what Nash is doing and a slow, predatory grin tilts his lips.

Me? I don’t dare to even breathe, not with that vulnerable flesh in danger.

I remind myself how safe I felt when Nash leveled a sword at me, how I convinced myself only tempos ago that he would never hurt me.

“Relax, Calamity, it will be worth it,” Hart says with a glance at me. Meanwhile, his teeth-happy older brother is debating on dining on my flesh.

“I could have come several times by now, so how will one I wait for be worth it?”

“I think he’s waiting for you to admit you were wrong and to promise never to do stupid shit again.”

“I already explained I don’t lie,” I snap.

The pressure and pain increase. He’s pushing it beyond that line he promised, and he knows it. A thick finger slides inside of me, pulling me back to the balance of promised pleasure, but he doesn’t release my flesh.

“Perhaps an apology?” Hart replies with a snort.

I glare at him. “I’m sorry,” I grind out.

“I’m sorry that you are too clueless to realize that I would do anything for my sister, despite sharing the same bond with your own siblings.

I’m sorry that in your male brains, you thought, even after meeting and knowing me, that I would be content for the knights or any other males to rescue my sister.

I’m sorry that you have still not understood this despite me fighting the weight of the ocean to return not only to her, but to all of you.

Even you, Hart, with your scowling face and mistrustful eyes. I even returned for you.”

His lips part, and he blinks. Hart’s hand presses down on my stomach, pinning me to the bed.

What is he doing? Nash steals my words, my breath, my very heartbeat when he pushes another finger inside of me and lazily pumps his fingers.

He releases my bud from between his teeth and sucks hard.

The scream that leaves my body is worthy of any swooning princess in the realm.

I’m shocked the glass remains whole in the windows.

I try to squirm away from the onslaught of pleasure so acute it’s driving me mad, but Hart and Nash have me pinned down like a butterfly between them and the bed.

The orgasm crests, and when I think I’m done, Nash pushes another finger inside of me, and Hart pinches my nipple, creating a second wave.

It’s the most pleasure anyone has ever felt.

It’s not normal, or advised, to experience this, because while he may call my taste addictive, I can safely say it is I that have become an addict for them.

“Keep going,” Hart groans. “Fuck, she looks devastating undone.”

I shake my head. “No, please, I can’t take any more.”

“You can’t?” Hart teases. “She who smacks dragon noses, puts princes in their place, and owns the hearts of four knights? That female I would ride at dawn for. Not for a quitter, though.”

I’m being goaded into pleasure. I know this deep down. But I’m too busy being caught up in the fact he said I own four knights’ hearts, not three. He’s either oblivious to his own words, or he doesn’t care. He swipes a piece of damp hair from my forehead.

“One more, Calamity,” he whispers. “Then you are done.”

“Kiss me,” I beg. Because I need something to anchor me to the realm, as the promise of more pleasure threatens to undo me.

Hart leans down, and instead of the hard fast kisses he’s given me in the past, this one is soft, searching, and heated, but sweet.

He releases my wrists and cradles my face in his hands.

My arms wrap around him, and I ground myself in everything he is.

The hard voice of the group, the grump, the suspicious cynic. But he’s shown his hand now. He’s mine.

Nash does something that makes my eyes cross, and my back arches off the bed as I explode once more. Hart groans, but doesn’t pull away. He swallows my screams with relish until I’m a trembling mess of sweaty limbs and swollen body parts.

“Let her breathe,” Nash advises.

Hart growls, but continues to kiss me. For once, I agree with him. Breathing is not a necessity for me now, a bonus of being a queen of the ocean. Yes, queen, because with how these two males worship me, I must be one.

Nash puts a hand on Hart’s shoulder and urges him back. He pulls away with a hungry look in his eyes that I will happily help him with.

I boop his nose. “I’ll be back in a tempo right after I get cleaned up.” I sit up and slide off the bed. My legs give way, and my ass hits the floor. “So this is what they mean when they say you won’t be able to walk after a night with me?”

Nash chuckles as he scoops me up in his arms and calls over his shoulder to Hart. “Decide where she is sleeping. I’ll get her cleaned up and ready for bed. I think she is about to...”

His words fade as I lay my head against his shoulder and smile. “For the record, I’m not sorry.” Then I’m out like Sleeping Beauty, but my world is better. She just got a really long snooze fest after some clumsy sewing. I am heading into an orgasm coma. I win.