Into the Lair (Falcon Mercenary Group #2)(60)

Back and forth, he opened her, then pulled away. Opened her again. Retreated and held her open before tucking his c**k back and sliding inward.

She jerked at her bonds, needing to be free. If only she could touch herself.

And then suddenly her hands fell. Ian had untied her. Braden yanked out of her body and flipped her over. She spread her legs wide, arching upward, seeking what, she wasn’t sure.

“Please,” she whispered, and then she remembered saying she never begged and that she’d done just that minutes ago. Her lips clamped shut, refusing to let another word pass. But they’d heard her.

Ian leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth just as Braden parted her folds and thumbed her clit. She went crazy. Her release billowed up, and she screamed then screamed again.

Braden lifted her, bent her legs back and thrust into her ass again. The final edge of pain sent her spiraling into a black void. Shadows overwhelmed her vision. Freedom from the unbearable pressure that had built as the two men f**ked her mercilessly.

As Braden jerked and trembled against her in his release, she floated free. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she reached for sweet oblivion. She felt so good. Wrapped in tendrils of pleasure.

She barely registered Braden pulling free of her body or the two men carefully tending to her. Fingers brushed over her wound, light and seeking. Then lips kissed a line across her stitches.

Ian gathered her in his arms, laying her head against his shoulder. His hands stroked and caressed her body as she snuggled deeper into his embrace.

“That was incredible,” she murmured.

“I take it we didn’t go too far,” Ian said into her hair.

She shook her head. “Perfect. You were perfect.”

His hand smoothed over her tingling ass, and she moaned all over again.

“Where’s Braden?” she said, her voice muffled by Ian’s chest.

Ian kissed the top of her head. “He’s coming. Getting cleaned up.”

“Going to sleep for a while,” she said groggily.

The heat from Ian’s body enveloped her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and dove into the comforting veil of sleep.

Chapter Thirty

Damiano stared out at the rugged outline of the snow-capped mountains. There was no glass to block the chill. Just a simple cut-out with a crude flap that could be drawn down to prevent a draft. This place that Marcus had brought him to was stark and beautiful, but the accommodations were lean.

The floors were made up of packed dirt, made smooth by repeated footsteps. Just a makeshift hut erected on the ground. Sturdier than a tent but nothing that would withstand a strong storm.

Surely they had them at this elevation. The snows would come in but a few weeks.

Fatigued from the journey, from the weight of his worry, he pulled clumsily at the flap and turned away to the pallet on the floor. Remnants of the sedative still traveled sluggishly through his veins and tugged at him, calling him to rest.

He might need more. What if he woke on the fringe of a shift? Marcus hadn’t seemed worried. He said they waited for Nali. Whoever that was.

Damiano lay down on his back and stared at the poorly constructed roof. How had this place lasted as long as it had? It wouldn’t surprise him if the ceiling fell in on him during the night. Or was it day? It was a testament to his state of mind that he had no idea if it was morning or evening. He only knew he wanted to close his eyes for a while and forget all that he’d become.

He drifted tiredly toward sleep. But in the shadows he saw the tiger. He saw Ty and himself as children on the streets of Prague as they looked in sympathy at the caged predator.

“We should free him,” Damiano said fiercely.

Ty looked at him with big, worried eyes. She twisted thin fingers nervously in front of her. “It’s dangerous.”

He hugged her to his side in an effort to reassure her. “He is like us, Ty. He wants to be free. The orphanage was our cage.”

The rich gold and amber eyes stared at them from behind the bars of the too-small cage. They called to Damiano in a way he didn’t quite understand. He only knew that somehow he and the tiger were connected.

He walked forward, and the tiger’s keeper immediately issued a sharp reprimand to stay away.

“He eats children like you!” the man jeered.

Damiano scowled. “I wish he would eat you,” he muttered.

“Let’s go, D,” Tyana whispered urgently. “We don’t want to be caught. I don’t want to go back to the orphanage.”

Reluctantly, Damiano turned away and took Ty’s hand in his. But to the tiger, he silently promised that he would return.

He turned restlessly on the pallet, the fingers of sleep pulling him deeper into the twisted myriad of his dreams. He saw himself standing on the street in the black of night, only he was alone. Where was Tyana? The streets were completely deserted, and when he looked again at the cage, the tiger was gone.

This wasn’t how it happened. He’d freed the tiger. With Tyana’s help. He turned, his bare feet scraping against the jagged cobblestone, and there it was.

Standing a few feet away, the tiger stared thoughtfully at him. Damiano froze, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. And then they were no longer standing on the streets of Prague. Damiano was on the island, in the game room, watching helplessly as Tyana fought for her life against the tiger. Why had he attacked her?