Harbor (On the Wind #3)

12. Tybalt

CHAPTER TWELVE

TYBALT

A ll the ridiculous notions in the Nemedan’s absurdly large head were inconsequential when he pressed me into the bed. His mouth on mine was hot and insistent. His tongue shoved past my lips and I opened for him, rolling my hips to the delicious friction of his cock.

We, both of us, were idiots, as we were still unbearably in trousers that I needed gone that very second. I ripped at my own, squirming enough that it got his attention.

Soon we were naked, and the way Orestes held himself above me, his dark eyes roaming over my skin hungrily?—

No .

I shuddered. I couldn’t stand him looking at me like that. Not after he’d talked about feelings , of all the absurd, unsexy, unwelcome things to mention at a time like this.

With a huff, I tapped his shoulder and pushed him back. “Lie down.”

Orestes’s brow furrowed, but he followed direction well enough, rolling off of me with his ass on my bed, his legs splayed languidly.

Before I crawled back into his lap, I pulled a bottle of oil from the nightstand and shoved it into his hand.

“Prepare me.”

Yes, if he wanted any part of my body, I’d have him use his own two hands to take me there.

When I slung my leg over his again, I faced away from him, thighs spread wide as I arched my back. A pleased shiver worked its way up my spine when I heard him curse behind me.

As I rolled my hips, grinding against his swollen cock, Orestes poured the oil, letting it dribble down my crack before dragging his fingers through it. I’d always loved this feeling—the anticipation right before fucking, the slick wet heat of oil on my skin, knowing that I shouldn’t put it there, much less let another man press it into me until my ass went soft around his fingers.

And gods, were Orestes’s fingers thick. His first knuckle pressed inside, and I clenched, drawing a low chuckle from the man behind me.

“Not gonna get anywhere fast if you don’t ease up a little bit,” he chided.

I took a slow, long breath and bore down on his finger.

“That’s it. Good lad.”

Hearing that low rumbling voice praise me shouldn’t have made me weak, but there we were. My body was overly hot, too ready for his second finger by the time he added it.

“Enough, enough,” I hissed, drawing myself up onto my knees. I couldn’t take anymore waiting. I needed him to fuck me. I didn’t even care if it hurt. Maybe that’d make me forget the last horrifying hour.

I held his cock steady and sank down on it, a trapped sound in my throat when Orestes grabbed my hips.

“You still breathing, Tybalt?”

Though I groaned, I had, in fact, needed the reminder. I was glad he couldn’t see my face, red as it must’ve been.

Taking him went easier after a few more breaths, a little patience, and yes, his big hands drawing my hips back until I was seated on his cock.

Then, I bounced, pulling myself up and shoving my body down, hard as I could. I wanted him too deep to think about anything else, and the way my balls dragged against his felt so fucking good. His were warm and just—more, fuck, more.

I rode him hard and fast, squeezing my eyes shut against the sight of his flushed knees, his strong calves. Then, I yelped. I felt him move before I dared to look, and then his heels dug into the bed and he thrust up to meet my every move.

I sobbed at every move. If I cried out loud enough for the whole palace to hear it, all the better.

Fuck, grinding down on him made sparks fly across my skin, dance behind my balls. My orgasm rushed up all at once, and I came with a shout, my cock jerking between his densely muscled thighs.

Behind me, Orestes shouted a curse and slammed up into me so hard that dark spots danced across my vision. My thighs shuddered, muscles tensing beyond my control.

I wasn’t the only one. Huffing, Orestes fell down, his hips hit the bed, his cock pulled out of my ass all at once. I clenched around nothing, even as the wet slap of his hand on his oiled cock filled the room. Then, he came, a warm spurt across the back of my legs.

Too dazed to do anything more, I tipped forward and held myself up with my palms pressing down into the bed, flipped the wrong way toward the foot of it. I should’ve gotten up. Should’ve?—

I didn’t know, but my arms were shaky and the most I could do was sink forward until my forehead hit the sheets beneath me.

Behind me, Orestes shifted around, but I didn’t have the strength to turn and see what he was doing. Even when his hand slid up from the base of my spine, the most I could manage was to go soft beneath him, let him maneuver my body how he wanted. If he meant to take another go right away, well, it wasn’t like anything he had in mind would kill me.

I gasped against the sheets when I felt his lips brush across the back of my thigh. His tongue darted out. He was—gods, he was cleaning the come from my skin with tender kisses.

His lips latched onto my inner thigh, and he sucked hard enough to leave a mark. Keening, I arched my back, and my spent cock made a valiant effort to come back to life. All it managed was a halfhearted twitch, but oh, I liked the idea of his mark on me.

Perhaps my father wouldn’t claim me as his heir, but the Nemedan would claim me in other ways.

Orestes slid up my back and with his hand, pulled my ass apart. With a low hum that rumbled through me, his thumb traced gently around my abused hole.

“You can relax, Prince,” Orestes said, hardly louder than a whisper. Even that made me shiver.

I let my eyes slide shut as the blunt head of his cock nudged against me. Inch by slow inch, Orestes pressed inside me. Though we’d just fucked, to my sore ass, he felt almost too large.

Only almost.

As I whimpered, his weight pressed me forward until I was flat on the bed, squirming beneath him. Was I trying for more? I didn’t know, because even the feel of the sheet beneath me was too much against my overstimulated cock.

Orestes must’ve known, because his hand slipped beneath me, cupping my cock, even his callused hand so much more welcome than the brush of fabric.

“Relax,” he whispered against the shell of my ear. I shivered. “You don’t need to move.”

With a sigh, I released every bit of tension in my body, flattened beneath the enormous Nemedan, tucked ever so safe beneath his heavy body and the warm mass of him.

Like this, when I breathed, he breathed with me. I could practically feel his heartbeat. No longer was I Prince Tybalt. I wasn’t anyone at all.

For at least a little while, I was only this—a mass of something trapped and tangled up with the man who’d buried himself deep inside me, and I never wanted to come back to myself.