9. Max

9

MAX

A lightning bolt of desire shot down my spine, sparking along every nerve ending as he deepened the kiss, his tongue parting my lips until it was wrestling with mine—languid and hungry all at once.

Fucking hell, you taste good.

His words pressed into me with a growl, laced with a need and desire that matched my own—out of control, hungry, unyielding.

With the connection blown open, I could feel his lust radiate through me, could feel how difficult it had been for him to sleep next to me each night, without giving into this desire that lived in his bones at all times—as it did in mine. It hadn't been easy, both of us shrouded in a heavy blanket of need, trying to protect the other by ignoring it and setting it aside.

No more. Declan was right. Joy, pleasure—we needed to take these things while we had the chance. Who knew how much longer we would be able to.

I didn't understand how I could possibly want more after coming several times already tonight, how my body could still crave and go feral for every ounce of pleasure that was offered to it, but it did, and I did.

A deep growl pulled from his chest as he pressed me up against him, sealing our bodies as close as they could go, his dick thick and hard, straining against my lower belly as a relentless need echoed between us.

I tried to reign it in a bit, to exercise a little control over the bonds, closing them enough to keep us from coming instantly. Now that I knew what it felt like, could trace the edges of where I ended and he began, could feel my connection to the others, I focused, used the tools Wade and Serae had taught me—the succubus power that I was growing more in tune with each day, the mental compartmentalizing I'd become adept at crafting—to manipulate an ebb and flow, to quiet and close the mental connections without shoving them closed entirely.

He stilled for a moment, tongue against my teeth, as he sensed the shift. His heart beat rabid against his chest, a match to my own. "Wh?—"

"It's okay," I whispered against him, reaching for the bond between us, tugging him closer, "just experimenting with a little more privacy this time."

When he felt our link flare back to life, he grunted in relief. "Stay with me."

I nodded, letting my reactions to his every touch, his every kiss flow back to him—he wanted the connection right now, wanted to escape being alone with his own thoughts.

Declan helped me understand how valuable that could be—sinking into intimacy, into your own body, when the mind grew too cloudy.

I'd do the same for Atlas, on his own terms.

My hands traced over his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his abs. I wanted all of him—to map and memorize every dip, curve, and hard line of his body.

His fingers gripped into my waist, and I could feel his struggle, that he was trying like hell to hold himself back, to be gentle, to go slow. I could feel what he wanted, and how he wanted it.

It was what I wanted too.

"Don't," I whispered, my voice deep and pleading as I slid my hand down the front of his sweatpants and squeezed the rigid outline of his dick. "Don't hold back with me." His breath shuddered against my lips. "I can take it."

He groaned into my mouth, but I could still feel his resistance.

I climbed on top of him, pulling him into a seated position against me, and tore his shirt down the center, the rip echoing around the silent room, my nails digging divots into his back as I bit his neck.

His breath came out in hot, raspy gasps, the feel of it against my skin sending a wave of shivers across my body.

When I pulled back, caught his eyes with mine, I saw the feral desire unfolded there. Pain. He wanted it. Wanted to relish in it. For once in his life, Atlas wanted to give up control.

To me.

The recognition, the feel and flavor of his lust washed over me, and I felt my succubus powers flare to life, saw the way his body trembled with excitement as the power swept over him.

He groaned, head falling back on the pillow as he sank into it.

When he reached for me, I pressed down his chest, keeping him locked there. I slid over him, my confidence blazing with every pulse of his desire I felt lapping against mine.

I started slow, teasing, light—my lips pressing gently to his, before I moved down his jaw, his neck, his chest. When I reached his nipple, I bit—hard enough to sting, but not break skin.

His dick throbbed against the wet heat between my thighs, my underwear and shorts already drenched with my own desire.

My tongue traced a delicious path down his abs, stopping only at the low waistband of his sweatpants where the lines of his lower stomach dipped.

Shifting between his legs, I grinned up at him, his eyes glowing pools of brown and yellow, dick tenting his pants almost comically.

But when I pulled them down, any humor fell away, my mouth watering at the sight of him.

He wasn't wearing boxers and the light brown tip of his cock was already slick with pre-cum. His shaft was smooth, solid—the veins lining it angry with desire. I traced them with my tongue, groaning as I took him into my mouth.

It was almost too much to take, but I relaxed my throat, took him in until he slid down as far as I could pull him in, then pulled back, my lips suctioned tight around him until he was free again.

"Tell me what you want, Atlas." I hardly recognized my voice, the intoxication of his desire suddenly the only thing I could focus on—like my succubus powers had just been offered an all-you-can-eat-buffet. And she was fucking starving. "I promise that I'll give it to you."

In a flash he sat up, grabbed both of my arms, and flipped me. A surprised grasp ripped from my mouth, when I found myself on my back beneath him.

His eyes were wild and hungry, like a predator caught mid-hunt as they found mine—his prey.

I shot him a teasing smile as he ripped my shirt, just as I'd done to his.

I was wrong. We both were. He didn't want to be powerless. He wanted to play. To fight. The permanent push and pull between us, the unbridled rage and control restructured into desire. As it had always been, even when we couldn't define or recognize it ourselves.

My coy smile transformed into a sharp gasp as he slid a hand between my legs and cupped me, the pressure and heat of his palm against me enough to shred any control I had left in this scenario.

He smirked, an arrogant expression shaping his face, as he slid a finger under my shorts and ran it over me, the sound of my slickness loud and undeniable in a room punctuated only by our breaths.

"I want to see if we can get you even wetter than this," he brought his finger to his lips and sucked my desire off of it, lips parting like I was a flavor he'd been dying to taste for years, "think that's possible, Bentley?"

With his help, I kicked off my shorts and underwear, too locked in his stare to form words.

When he slid two fingers into me, his breath hot on my neck, I arched off the bed, digging my nails into his back as I chased the orgasm just out of my grasp.

A dark, rough chuckle laced the shell of my ear, sending a flare of tingles all the way down my shoulders. He pulled his hand away, fully fucking aware of what he was doing to me.

I panted, shamelessly trying to grind against him, desperate for more friction, more him.

But he pinned my arms to the bed, one on each side of my head, and stared down at me—his eyes were like fire, wild and dangerous, but I wanted to burn alive in their depths.

He set himself against me, an attempt to unravel me more, but he lost his composure as his dick slid through my wet heat.

I smirked before taking his mouth with my own.

He swallowed a groan and stopped, throbbing against me as I gasped into his mouth.

I wasn't sure how much more power either of us would have in this game, but I wasn't going down without a fight .

Gripping his shoulders, hard enough that my fingernails cut crescent moons into his back, I pulled myself up a few inches from the bed, grinding against him from below, and bit his ear lobe.

He collapsed onto his elbows, caging in me closer as he tried like hell to resist the intoxicating need to slip inside of me. It was a game of wills that I wanted him to win as much as lose.

He rolled his hips, pressing the tip of his dick to my entrance, and we both moaned, my body shivering with need as I resisted the urge to end this game.

I changed my mind. Instantly.

Losing would be better, I would happily relinquish my power for one more inch of him. I wanted to pull him inside of me, shatter around him.

His breath hitched and he pulled back, a strained but cocky smirk twisting his lips as he pulled away from me, his hand splayed on my chest to keep me pinned. "Giving up that easily, Bentley?"

Fuck. The hold I had over the bonds and my thoughts had slipped, but I was too far gone to shut down the connection completely.

I squirmed under his gaze as he studied me, his free hand tracing the curves of my body, down my right thigh, then back up the line where my right met my left. His thumb circled around my clit—enough to tease and hint at the pleasure he could bring, but only just a taste .

"A taste," he said, brow arching as he shoved my knees apart. "I think I will."

That look was back again, his expression wild and hungry—almost predatory as he crouched between my legs.

Without looking away, his tongue grazed over my core, until I wasn't sure what had me holding back a scream of pleasure more—that devout, hungry look on his face, or the way his tongue felt against me .

"More," I rasped, relinquishing control altogether. He'd won. This was a game I'd happily lose again and again, if it meant I got more of this. More of him.

More, more, more.

I rolled my hips, desperate for more friction, then let out a frustrated growl when he pulled his lips away from me, instead of adding more pressure where I wanted it most.

For a long beat that passed like a lifetime, he watched me, waiting for me to go still again as I strained towards him, a needy, pathetic whimper on my lips.

His fingers traced around me, sure to stay exactly half an inch away from every spot I wanted him most—but with the bond open, he knew exactly what he was doing, could feel every flare of pleasure that rolled through me, could control me like a pawn, read me like a book.

"Fuck you," I muttered, but there was no real power behind the chastise, because he cupped his palm against me, the pressure against my clit sending a searing shock up my spine. "Fuck."

But when I rolled against his hand, chasing more, he pulled back again, his focus so intense that his stare alone made my pussy clench—empty where I wanted it filled with him.

My skin was on fire, goose flesh pebbling every inch of me, my nipples so hard they could cut diamonds—but I knew he wasn't immune. I could feel his lust radiate against me, amplifying my own until each second of waiting for release just made me want it more.

Frustrated, I met his arrogant stare and slid my own hand between my legs, soaking my fingers with my own need. It felt good, but it wasn't what I wanted.

His eyes narrowed, lips curving in an arrogant smirk over me, and I knew that he knew—that an orgasm from my own hand would be a fraction of what he would give me.

Fucking prick .

I grinned, before sitting up a bit and wrapping my hand, slick and wet, around his dick, coating him with my desire as I stroked.

He gasped, body sinking a few inches closer to me as he fought to stay in control. Instead, he dipped lower and lower, until the tip of him was just a hair's breadth away from where my body wanted him most.

Arching my hips, I slid against him, gasping into his mouth as I slid the tip of his cock over my clit, and then took him inside of me—only an inch, just enough to tease, before I clenched around him and fell back on the bed.

It was a cruel trick though—because in teasing him, I only further frustrated myself.

His chest moved in heavy gasps as his dark eyes found mine again, I could see him fighting a battle for control—a battle both we'd both lose, eventually.

He slid lower, taking one of my nipples into his mouth. He bit down and sucked, the pain braiding with pleasure as I arched into him.

He bit down again as he cupped me, my ears ringing as I fought back the orgasm threatening to tear through me. Not yet. Not yet.

Pleased at my restraint, my sudden willingness to follow orders, he pressed a soft kiss to my lips before sticking three fingers inside of me, the sound of my slickness obscene in the quiet of the room.

Again? Fucking hell you're going to destroy me tonight, Max. I'm starting to think it's actually medically concerning how long I've been erect.

I gasped in shock, at the sudden sound and feel of Eli in my thoughts.

Atlas paused, expression confused.

"Eli," I said, my brain too foggy and body too much like jello to form any real words .

Atlas's gaze went dark and teasing as he wrapped a hand firmly against my throat—enough pressure to get my attention, to pull my focus back to him, but not enough to hurt. Too much. "I must not be doing nearly a good enough job if another man's name is on your lips right now."

"Not my lips," I gasped as his thumb pressed against my clit, "my thoughts. I'm losing control over the bonds."

"If he's going to be a voyeur," a wicked grin crossed Atlas's face as he watched me, "then tell him to come here and do it properly."

"Seriously?" I froze, both shocked by Atlas's invitation and turned on by the thought of Eli here too.

He arched an eyebrow. "Seriously." Then, he leaned back, sliding my legs over his shoulder as he studied me, unblinking. "I want him to hear my name on your tongue while you come on mine."

A ripple of pleasure pulsed through me as Atlas pressed a soft, chaste kiss to my clit, the message clear. No orgasm until he had an audience to fully appreciate the performance. And judging by that wicked spark in his stare, it was sure to be an earth-shattering one.

Award-winning, even.

My plea for Eli to get in here was sharp and fast, but he took little convincing.

The door opened and then closed again, two soft clicks as Eli made his way into the room. I could feel his shock at the offer lap against me, but it melted instantly into pure lust when he saw me spread and writhing before Atlas.

"Hold her down," Atlas demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.

Eli prowled towards us, silent as a shadow, then did as he was told, his firm hands pressing mine on either side of my head.

Atlas grinned, satisfied, then pressed his mouth to my core, running his tongue along my slit as his lips sucked and kissed around me.

"Oh gods," I whimpered, straining against the two of them as the feel of his hot mouth brought me to the edge. My nipples were sharp peaks, my flesh pebbled and sensitive. "Fuck, yes—Atlas."

Two seconds—that was all it took for the orgasm to tear through me like a lightning bolt.

Both of them groaned, Eli's grip faltering as he experienced the force of it, the waves of my pleasure pounding against them both with a hunger that wasn't even close to sated.

A hunger that only matched and amplified theirs.

They both shared a look with each other, something passing between them, decided.

Before I could ask, Atlas flipped me around until my knees and hands dug into the mattress.

Eli flung his sweatpants down, his cock springing free, eager and ready—the tip already wet and sticky with cum.

"Can you take us both, Max?" Atlas asked, the sentence a low growl against the shell of my ear as he leaned over me, his dick thick and already coated with me as it slid between my thighs from behind.

I nodded, mouth watering as Eli kneeled in front of me, eyes wild with need.

When I took him into my mouth, groaning around the taste of him, Atlas filled me.

Fucking hell they felt good.

My mouth pumped around Eli with the same punishing pace of Atlas's thrusts—our bodies coiled together, a mess of limbs and sweat, and a boiling desire that I couldn't wrap my mind around.

The bonds were blown open again, and every touch was magnified, electric, every breath or grunt that feathered across my neck as arousing as Atlas's fingers on my clit .

Eli's hands wrapped in my hair, holding the wet strands out of my face as he watched me take him in my mouth, reverence and lust mapped out in equal strokes across his expression as he pumped into me.

"Fuck, you're perfect." His body tensed, straining as he tried to hold back, to hold onto control for as long as possible. But when Atlas thrust deeper, and I moaned around his dick, his composure snapped. "Fuck, I'm going to come. This is too much."

I took him deeper, moaning, chasing my own orgasm, wanting it seasoned with the taste of his.

Atlas's fingers circled my clit, the pressure mounting—too much, too much, too much.

My fingers could only hold onto the edge of the cliff for so long.

When he grunted against my ear, the only sign of him struggling to hold on too, I lost it.

I saw stars, my ears ringing as the orgasm tore through me like a tidal wave, both of them filling me as they followed me over.

Atlas collapsed against my back, his knees weak, unable to hold him. I did the same against Eli.

We adjusted until I was sandwiched between them, Atlas spooning me from behind as I rested my head on Eli's chest.

I felt our heartbeat pulse through us as one, our skin heated and caked in sweat, both of them stroking my arm, my thigh, their touch and nearness like a balm, until I was lulled under the temporary promise that everything was okay—at least for now.