Chapter 275. Feeding III

Chapter 275: 275. Feeding III

Maisie

"You never screamed like that for me," Quinlan said, and I fell forward with a shout as he kicked my thighs apart. Jericho and I groaned as the latter sank in to the hilt, his knot swelling inside me, locking me down on him until I couldn’t have escaped if I tried.

I didn’t want to.

My claws scratched over Jericho’s chest. I shook through it, body clamping, tensing, already chasing the next scrape of sensation. Any of it. All of it. Quinlan pressed a slick fingertip against my asshole, demanding entry.

"I should like to know which you like better when we’re both inside you," he said.

A brief, drunken giggle slipped out of me. That didn’t sound like the punishment it was meant to be. I wanted to take it all. His fingers. His cock. Whatever he put inside me. I was empty, I was starving, and if the air could fill me, I would grind against it too.

The giggle hiccuped into a whimper when Quinlan pushed a second finger in.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

His tone was cool. Hard. I nodded, and even the burn became a pleasant, pulsing ache as he eased his fingers deeper. I shifted. Whimpered. Tightened. Panted. My hips tried to follow his hand when he withdrew, utterly shameless, seeking any kind of friction.

"Very beautiful, mon coeur," he grunted, and replaced his fingers with the first inch of his cock.

Jericho rocked slowly beneath me, distracting me from the pain with a gentle simmer of pleasure.

They took turns soothing me with caresses. Kisses. Quinlan’s mouth creeping across my shoulders and neck. Jericho’s fingers teasing my clitoris beneath him until I was wet enough for the filthy sounds of my insides squelching filled the air.

Only for my body to tighten as Quinlan nudged in deeper. I took it anyway. I would have taken more. I would have taken less. I just needed them in me.

"Gods, you feel good," he gasped as he seated himself fully.

I couldn’t breathe.

Jericho’s hands slid between us, up my scars reverently, over my breasts, lifting me off his chest just enough to change the stroke of them nested together inside me. The shift made my mouth fall open around a sound I didn’t recognize.

Quinlan’s nose nuzzled his mark on my skin. "You have us now, cherie," he groaned, pushing in while Jericho eased out. And when Jericho eased out, Quinlan eased back inside, and they drew out this horrifyingly beautiful rhythm until I was begging for release.

I was high, addicted. I craved the next thrust before the last one bad even finished. Craved the next curve of Jericho’s cock against my abdomen before Quinlan’s finished hitting that spot that had my mouth watering and my tongue sticking out.

And my body had a mind of its own. It kept offering itself to be used. Clenching, dripping, rocking back onto whoever was filling me like they were all I needed to survive.

Soren was there, leaning against the post, flickering in and out of focus as my vision blurred. That intimate, penetrating violet stare. Like he was thinking hard about something even as he fisted himself to the sight of us.

I moaned his name. Whined. I needed every orifice filled. I was desperate. I was lust. I just wanted. Wanted his hands. His mouth. His cock. The air he was breathing if that was all he would give me.

His eyes half-closed with naked desire. That seductive smile as he joined us had me shivering and clenching harder around the two already buried in me.

I was wanton. Wicked. Too loose. Depraved. Stretching to fit him past my lips because he put himself there and I opened for it like I’d been waiting. My fangs found the veins of his swollen length and I drew from him, drinking, moaning around him, messy and yet grateful. So grateful they chose to feed my darkest needs.

Jericho thrust a little too deep. I gagged around Soren and clenched down on the others, and all four of us broke into the same frantic rhythm, moaning, cursing, moving like the only thing left in the world was this madness.

"Take it all. Take everything," they told me.

My eyes fell shut.

I let them take my sanity with their hands and mouths and cocks. In turn, I took every kind of friction they gave me and still wanted more. I begged for their bruises. I begged for their marks. I begged for their knots. I wept for it.

I begged for my own ruin.

And I floated there, at the very edge of ecstasy and oblivion, and without wanting to, without realizing what I was doing, I dragged all three of them into my head. Not me. My Lycan.

With my mental walls so thoroughly obliterated, it was almost too easy for her to rip the door open and let them through.

One second they were groaning into my skin. The next, they were dying with me on that cliff.

The needle first.

Fire exploded through my veins.

Not the heat of them inside me. The wrong kind. The wrong kind. Death poured straight into my blood, eating me from the inside. My back arched off Jericho and off the ground at the same time. I was on the bed but I was back at the cliff again. I was full of them and I was dying again.

They felt it.

I know they did, because Jericho’s rhythm stuttered inside me like he’d been shot. Quinlan’s breath punched out against my shoulder. Soren’s hand in my hair went rigid.

I tried to shove them out of my head, to shield them from the memory I knew would haunt them forever like it would never stop haunting me, but I was frozen in the horror of the nightmare, reliving it all over again. I was paralyzed once again. Tessa had me again.

There was froth at the corners of my mouth. I was twitching. Shaking. Convulsing.

I saw Tessa’s pleased little smile as she pulled the empty syringe from my neck.