Damien set the bottle in her hand. "When you're ready for me," he murmured, "I'd like to feel you take both." He'd sat there with that thought in his head while she had her hands on three other men. Felicity got one thumb under the cork. She wanted him to hear it come out.
Behind her, Ivan felt her tighten and lost the last of the rhythm he'd been trying to keep. She let herself sink back against him as he came, his breath going out against her shoulder in a long, satisfied groan. A little oil ran out onto her fingers. Victor used the corner of the sheet to catch it before it could soak the place she'd be putting her head. For a man who could handle himself in a street full of dead people, he had a surprisingly tender feeling for a clean pillowcase.
"I plan to sleep here," he told her when he saw her grinning. "The place in the middle's mine whenever I can get the rest of you to leave me six inches of it."
