The three of them were asleep, utterly spent.
Madison lay curled against my left side, one sleek leg slung possessively over mine, her slow, sated breaths warm against my ribs. Patricia was tucked into my right, face buried in the hollow of my shoulder, palm spread flat over my heart as if to be sure it was still beating for her.
At the foot of the bed, Sofia had collapsed in a boneless sprawl, limbs starfished, cheek pressed to the sheet, looking exactly like someone who'd been thoroughly, repeatedly wrecked--which, in every sense that mattered, she had).
Two straight hours of Dark Lord Mode with three women at once will do that to a person.
The master bedroom still hung thick with the scent of raw sex, expensive perfume, and that heavy, victorious languor that follows a war won in silk sheets.
I should have been unconscious.
Instead, every nerve felt freshly charged, new titles crackling under my skin like live wires I hadn't yet learned to ground.
