I do, and I let him position me so I’m pressed against his belly and chest and I’m relieved with I feel his hard length. I exhale, feeling steady for the first time in days. There’s no doubt I’ve been running on fumes, and this is only confirmed with the surge of power when Damien touches me.
I feel his lips on my ear and he says, “I’m going to take care of you, while you take care of Sam, okay?”
I look at Sam. My sweet, adorable Sam. His eyes are blackened, red marks ring his neck. He’s even skinnier than Damien because he had less meat on him before they were locked up. I’m tentative when I reach out to him, terrified I’m going to hurt him even more.
“Touch him,” Damien whispers. He’s begun moving his own hands, skimming them down the curve of my hips around to my belly. I shiver and he kisses my neck, causing my nipples to tighten and point. I ghost my hand over Sam’s face, his swollen neck, and smile when his eyes flicker open. There’s an innate conflict—I want to sink into the pleasure of Damien’s touch while also focusing on doing the same for Sam.
I’ve never been an amazing multi-tasker.
“Morgan?” His voice gritty and hoarse.
“Hi.”
“What…” he has no voice and the thought of what caused it breaks my heart. Screaming? Begging? Fucking Casteel and his sadistic bend. I press a finger to his lips.
“Don’t talk, okay? Just let me take care of you.”
His eyes shift over my shoulder and Damien says to his brother, “It’s time.”
Sam nods and licks his dry, cracked lips.
Damien’s hands wander to my breasts. I press my ass closer to his ridiculously hard cock. I’ve missed his body and his touch so much that I have to fight back a cry of relief from feeling him close to me again. I rest a hand by Sam’s head, establishing myself in the middle of a Sam-Damien sandwich. Good thing I’m hungry, and I’m not the only one. These men have been starving for days. Not just for food and water, but for the essence of what keeps them alive: Me and the connection I bring to them.
With every ripple of pleasure Damien gives me, by tweaking my nipples or kissing my shoulders, I do the same for Sam. I take my time with him, rousing him gently, licking his skin and lathing my tongue over the red marks on his neck.
I skim my hand down his stomach, toward the soft hair below his belly button and nearly cry when I feel the hard length waiting for me. “So you’ve got a little left in you after all, don’t you?”
His eyelashes flutter, giving me a view of his beautiful green eyes. “For you? Always.”
I lift on one elbow and arch my neck to get a better look at Damien. He’s watching me closely. I beckon him over and kiss him on the mouth, feeling a second set of hands reach for my body. An intense shiver rolls through my body and I know that it’s time.
Chapter
Sam
Her lips taste like salt. Her breath, like the very essence of life. It’s through hooded eyes that I watch Morgan, sitting above me like a queen. Her breasts are perfect, her stomach soft, and the beckoning patch of heaven between her legs call me like an angel’s song.
I’ve spent weeks rotting away in that filthy cell, wondering if I’d ever have the pleasure of seeing her face or touching her body once again.
I never should have questioned it. I never should have doubted.
I know immediately, instinctively, that we have moved to another level in our relationship. She’s here to heal; I feel the aches slipping away with every touch, the bruises fading. I see Damien’s hands. I watch my own. I feel. I feel. I feel, and know what will bring down the bitch sitting on her throne.
I am sure that Morgan always thought that we would be the ones that would save her—she had it wrong. She’ll be the one to redeem us all.
Chapter
Morgan
We move fluidly. Damien follows me as I move to straddle Sam. I kiss his mouth, then his chest, lingering over his sensitive, brown nipples. I feel Damien behind me, hands firmly on my waist, as I make my way downward, grazing my teeth across Sam’s sharp hip bones. He’s still weak, but he watches me, hand clenched on my shoulder. When I’ve shimmied down every inch of his body, I rock forward on my knees, offering my backside to Damien. He doesn’t hesitate, gripping my cheeks and spreading them wide.
Although it seems impossible, I focus on the hard and eager shaft between Sam’s legs. With one hand on my head and another on the base he guides me toward it and I lick the tip, tasting the familiar saltiness. He shudders when I do it again and I cry against the heat in my mouth. I never knew if I’d see them again, and to have the honor of helping bring them back to full strength is almost too much.
I lick and suck and nibble and stroke, never missing a beat. Not even when I feel the pressure behind me, when Damien rubs his fingers between my legs, making sure I’m slick and ready. Not when he slips his cock between the slick folds at the entrance to my core and eases himself inside. I gasp from the sensation, never knowing—never understanding what it could be like.
Like every encounter with my Guardians we’re in tune, in synch, with the pace and tone of our movements. Sometimes it’s about fun. Other times it’s about anger, rage, or pain. Now it’s about healing—unifying. Damien and Sam fill me in two different ways and I’ve never felt so complete.
Damien settles for a minute, giving me time to adjust to the sensation and balance it takes to handle both of them at once. When I feel I’m ready I rock back, moving my mouth and hand at the same time. It’s a slow movement and Sam props up on his elbows, fully alert and watching intently.