Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 159487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Ravik had laughed, the sound rough in his throat, and told her he and Sev weren’t Twin Kindred. Beast and Blood didn’t share that way. But the ale had been a warm, molten weight in his blood and Lirana’s hands were already on his chest, her thumbs circling his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt, while her silver eyes slid to Severin in an unmistakable invitation.
“Then don’t share,” she had said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Simply enjoy me at the same time.”
It had sounded reasonable then—maybe because Ravik was drunk and hungry and tired of being alone—his body a live wire of pent-up need.
Severin had been quieter, as always, but he hadn’t left. That was the part Ravik remembered too clearly. Sev had stayed—pale and elegant in the blue lamplight—his eyes sharp and unreadable as Lirana led them both behind a curtain into a private room full of low cushions and warm, scented air, thick with musk and desire.
At first it had been about her. That was what Ravik had told himself afterward. It had been Lirana between them…Lirana’s hot, wet mouth sliding down his shaft while her clever fingers worked him to a throbbing hardness… Lirana’s hands pulling Severin down to the cushions beside her while Ravik kissed the side of her throat, tasting salt and perfume.
She had laughed and touched them both, guiding their hands to her bare breasts…her narrow waist…the slick heat between her thighs, pulling them closer as though there was nothing strange about having one male on either side of her, their bodies forming a cage of heat and muscle around her.
Then Severin’s hand had brushed Ravik’s hip.
It had been an accident—Ravik had told himself that for years.
They were both crowded close to Lirana on the cushions, both trying to reach her, both half-drunk on ale and sex and the hot, sweet scent of her arousal hanging in the air. Of course Sev’s hand brushed him. Of course his long, elegant fingers had slid over the bare skin of Ravik’s hip, just above the line of his trousers, and held there for a moment when Lirana tugged them both nearer, her back arching.
But the touch hadn’t felt like an accident.
Sev’s hand had been warm and sure, his fingers pressing into the hard muscle above Ravik’s thigh with deliberate pressure.
Ravik had looked at him, ready to make some crude joke, but the words had died in his throat because Sev was looking back. Not smiling…not laughing. Just watching him with those pale blue eyes gone dark and hungry in a way Ravik had never seen before—a look that stripped away pretense and spoke of a different, deeper appetite.
Lirana had kissed Ravik then, distracting him, her tongue plunging into his mouth, and he had let himself be distracted.
Her mouth was hot, her hands everywhere—one tangling in his hair, the other sliding between his legs to cup the heavy weight of his balls, making him groan.
She had been on her back between them, arching and moaning while Ravik stroked between her thighs, his fingers slipping easily into her slick pussy, and Severin’s mouth closed over one dark nipple, sucking hard. It should have been enough—more than enough.
Then Sev’s hand slid over Ravik again.
Not a brush this time—a stroke. A deliberate, slow drag of his palm across Ravik’s lower belly, the heat of it branding him through the thin material and making his cock jerk in surprised pleasure.
Ravik had shuddered so hard Lirana laughed against his mouth, a breathy, knowing sound.
Sev’s fingers had skimmed along his hip, then lower, tracing the line of Ravik’s erection straining against his trousers—not touching his shaft directly, but so close that Ravik’s whole body went tight and aching with the awareness of it.
He remembered the smell of Goldsheill ale on his own breath, remembered the silver gleam of Lirana’s eyes watching them over his shoulder, remembered the low, rough sound Sev made when Ravik’s thigh pressed against his in a reflexive, seeking movement.
They had never spoken about it—not then and not after.
But Ravik remembered the way their bodies had moved closer around Lirana, until she was almost an afterthought pressed between two walls of tense, hungry male. He remembered Sev’s hand on his hip, fingers digging in, while Lirana took Ravik’s cock in her mouth, her lips stretched wide.
He remembered reaching for her and finding Sev’s cock instead, his own hand closing around his friend’s shaft and holding it for one breathless, too-long moment before snatching his hand away as if scorched.
He remembered Lirana whispering, her voice thick with arousal,
“You are beautiful together,” and laughing, a low, wicked sound, when both males went utterly silent and still.
Then her hand, slick from her own wetness, came up to cradle the back of Ravik’s neck, her silver eyes gleaming with mischievous heat.