“Turn around,” Flint tells me.
I spin so my back is facin’ him, and he sucks in a breath. “Now there’s a sight,” he says, and I look over my shoulder at him to see that he’s lookin’ me over from head to toe, while I’m clad in nothin’ but a pair of black panties. He takes a step forward until I can feel the heat of his chest at my back. “I loved your hair before, but I love your wings and your new hair color too,” he muses, his hand comin’ up to skim over the curve of my feathers, makin’ me shiver.
He drops his arms and wraps them around me, fittin’ the front of the shirt to my chest. He takes special care that it’s lined up correctly by palmin’ my breasts until I smack his hands away with a laugh. “Get to work lacin’ up the back, mister.”
He chuckles and finally moves his hands off my chest. He slips my hair over my shoulder to leave my back bare, and chills erupt over my skin as I feel his lips skim over my neck. “Alder is right. Your skin is soft as a petal.”
A satisfied hum leaves my throat as he trails his mouth up to my ear, nibblin’ it gently before he pulls back. I feel him start to tie the top together beneath my wings, usin’ the corset-like strings to mold the fabric over me. Once it’s tight enough that my breasts aren’t gonna spill out, but not so tight that I can’t breathe, Flint finishes makin’ up the knot. “There you go, Peaches.”
“Thanks,” I say, my skin tinglin’ with the aftershocks of his touch.
I toss my hair up in a long ponytail and then look down at the last piece of clothin’ with a sigh before I start tuggin’ the leather pants on. It’s difficult. I have to shimmy and yank and curse and sweat, all while Flint grins at me where he’s sittin’ on the edge of the bed.
“Damn,” I huff when I finally get the things all the way up. “I mean...leather pants? I didn’t think anyone ever really had a reason to wear leather pants except for motorcycle clubs and Halloween. I don’t wanna wear these damn things,” I complain.
I didn’t peg Delta for a leather lovin’ freak, but now I’m questionin’ things. She was dressed normally when I saw her yesterday, but why would she own somethin’ like this, let alone give it to me to wear? It’s like I’m Buffy the Vampire Slayer after she joined a biker gang.
Alder comes out just then, yellow hair damp and white towel wrapped around his waist. He takes one look at me spinnin’ around in my new getup and whistles. His eyes go right to my ass. “You look sexy.”
Alright. I guess I’ll wear them.
“Yeah, I think leather pants are my new favorite thing,” Flint adds while Alder quickly gets dressed. I’d complain that they both get to wear comfy jeans and cotton shirts, but...the way they can’t take their eyes off me makes up for the skintight outfit.
Mostly, anyway.
28
“Ready?” I ask, now that all three of us are clean and covered. Time to go talk to the others.
I don’t wait for them to reply, but instead turn and open the door...only to stop in the hallway because I have no idea how to get to the dinin’ room in this place.
“You go ahead and take the lead, boys,” I say, steppin’ aside.
“Why? You wanna check out our asses?” Flint teases as he walks past me.
“Yep.”
Alder chuckles as he comes up beside me, his arm immediately snaggin’ me around the waist as he tugs me forward to walk with him. His hand settles on my ass, givin’ it a squeeze as we follow Flint down the hallway. “This ass... You have no idea how hard it is not to drag you back to bed and have you bend over for me.”
At his words, warmth rushes between my thighs, which isn’t so good since heat and leather don’t mix. My Veruca is gonna get humid quick.
“You both be nice to Delta’s mates, and I’ll bend over for you as long as you want later,” I sing-song.
Both demons groan.
“You drive a hard bargain, Medley Bell,” Flint says over his shoulder.
“Deal,” Alder quickly says, givin’ my ass another squeeze. “Don’t fuck this up for us, Flint.”
My marble demon sighs. “Fine.”
Ha! These leather pants are comin’ in handy. Maybe this is what Delta uses to keep her four mates in line? I look down at the pants with renewed appreciation.
As Flint continues to lead the way, we hit a staircase just as my stomach rumbles, lettin’ me know that lunch came at a good time. Unfortunately, that’s not the only sound that comes from me.
I wince the moment I hit the stairs, because these damn leather pants start squeakin’ every time I descend a step. Both guys chuckle at the obnoxious noise comin’ from the fabric.
“Not a word,” I warn them. I try to muster up as much dignity as I can as I go all the way down to the first floor, but it’s difficult, since the noise echoes worse than a mouse in a chapel.
Thankfully, my guys manage to withhold the laughter until I make it to the bottom step. Barely.
The creepy butler is there, under-eye circles and all, and he gives us a bored look. “They’re waiting in the dining room,” he says, but his tone adds, because you’re late. Though he doesn’t say it aloud, the judgment is implied.
“Thanks, Strut,” Flint says jovially, ignorin’ the male’s antipathy.
We walk through the doorway, and my eyes immediately take in the space. There’s a long dinin’ table in the middle
