It’s hardest right here, as his cock is stretching and filling me, to remain impassive and tuned in. But I do, sinking onto his cock in one smooth motion. He holds me there, his forearm locked immovably around my hips, as we secretly revel in it.
Killian’s just made Nick a proposal that’s completely flown by me. “I’m a King now, I can get you in,” he says. Whatever he’s asking for, neither looks particularly happy about it. Killian crosses his arms, bearing down on him with his stare alone. “Come on, Nick, what are you going to do now? My dad’s dead. Are you going to find another King to run the streets for? Because that’s not something I want or need from you.”
Sy looks between them, and even though the irritated crease in his forehead never disappears, I can see a hint of agreement in his eyes. “He has a point, Nick.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Nick snaps, flicking his brother a quick scowl. Lower, to Killian, he says, “I don’t have enough credits to be a senior. I barely have enough to be a sophomore.”
“So?” Killian shrugs, looking over at Tristian. “We made Lords as Juniors. It’s not set in stone.”
“Plus.” Tristian’s cock swells when everyone turns to look at him. They have no idea that he’s buried inside of me right now. “You’re legacy. Exceptions are always made for legacies.”
When everyone looks back at Nick, I rock my hips, unable to curb the impulse. Tristian’s arm tightens, almost painful with the pressure of keeping me still.
“Jesus Christ,” Nick mutters, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll think about it.”
Dimitri kicks a foot up on the coffee table. “Good choice.”
“It’s late,” Killian agrees, even though the sun only just set. He reaches up to rub his temple, wincing. “We’re still getting our bearings here, dude, could you…？” He gestures to the door.
Sy rolls his eyes, grabbing his brother’s arm. “We’ll be in touch.” Tristian and I watch as Killian follows them out of the room doggedly. Instinctively, I know he won’t return until he’s sure they’ve both gone.
Dimitri remains on the couch, arm slung over his head, all slouched down like he’s halfway to calling it a bed. “I thought none of us were getting any action tonight,” he says, lolling his head to level us with a dark, heavy stare.
I freeze, clenching around Tristian’s cock. “How did you…？”
Tristian puffs a laugh into my neck. “Never could get one over on him. He’s fucking annoyingly perceptive.”
Dimitri’s mouth tugs up into half a smirk. “The tips of your ears get glowing-ass red when you’re fucking, Tris. Not that I’d need it.” His hand goes lazily to his crotch, squeezing. “Story’s got a pretty good poker face these days, but she gnaws on her lip like a bone when she’s trying not to make slutty sex noises.”
My brows crouch down into a glare. “I do not.”
“You really do.” Killian appears from out of nowhere, snatching out to yank the blanket away. He raises an eyebrow at our lap, my panties all twisted and askew. He lifts a palm, saying, “Seriously, Tris? While we’re conducting business?” The words are as stern as his glare, but the tent in his pants and the tick in his jaw as he watches Tristian buck into me are pure sex. “Never fucking make me pop wood in front of Nick again.” I startle when he drops to his knees in front of us, edging close to part my thighs. He looks up at me through thick, dark lashes. “Promise us it’ll always be like this.” He extends his tongue, brushing it over my clit so feather light that I pull away from Tristian to chase it.
“Yes,” I gasp, so laser focused on the wet point of his tongue that I don’t even notice Dimitri appearing beside the chair until he reaches out to tangle his fingers into my hair.
“Promise,” he gently demands, pushing his palms up my sides, “that you’ll always be ours.”
“As much as we are yours,” Dimitri adds in a ragged octave, freeing his cock from his boxers.
I thread my fingers into Killian’s hair, and it’s easy to give him this answer. “I promise.”
Still, I wait until he lowers his mouth to me—until I have the flushed head of Dimitri’s cock on my lips—until Tristian begins sucking a bruise into the junction of my neck—to make the real vow.
“Always.”
34
Story
“Shit, here she comes,” Dimitri says, shoving his phone into his pocket and pushing to his feet.