The Rogues of Blackwood Book 2: Teague
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Amber Kuhlman
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Chapter 1
Book 2: Teague
EVE
The room was dark, the only light coming from the flashes of lightning that cut through the storm outside. Rain hammered relentlessly against the window, each strike echoing like a warning across the walls of the asylum.
The air held a chill, the kind that seeped into bone, but I barely felt it—because Teague was above me, his shadow swallowing what little light the room had.
His eyes were fire. Hunger. Possession. Recognition.
“Christ, look at you,” he murmured as he lowered himself over me. His fingers brushed my breast, then pinched my already stiffening nipple between his knuckles.
A gasp caught in my throat, and my hips tilted up instinctively, desperate for more.
“You were made for this,” he whispered.
The bed dipped beside me as Beau shifted closer. His body radiated heat despite the cold room, his thick, heavy length brushing my hip as he wrapped an arm around my front.
His fingertips traced lazy lines up my bare arm, slow enough to drive me mad, soft enough to make me shiver.
“You feel like you’re freezing, sweetheart,” Beau said, his breath warm at my ear. “Let us warm you up.”
Pleasure rolled through me, my legs parting without hesitation. I wanted them. All of them.
The storm, the cold, the damn asylum—it all faded until there were only their hands on my skin and the pounding of my own heartbeat.
Behind Beau, Keane let out a low, guttural groan.
“Fuck…,” he growled, stroking himself as he watched.
The sound shot straight through me.
I pushed up onto my hands and knees, crawling across the bed toward him. The mattress shifted under my weight, and when I reached him, I wrapped my fingers around his thick shaft.
He hissed between his teeth as I stroked him slowly at first, then harder when Teague’s hand slid between my thighs from behind.
His fingers worked me with ruthless precision—slow, then fast, then shallow, then deep—like he was playing with a rhythm only he could hear.
Beau’s hand snapped into my hair, guiding me forward.
“Open up for us,” he murmured.
I did.
I wrapped my lips around Keane’s cock, the taste of him hitting my tongue as Beau watched with hooded eyes.
Keane moaned, his hips jerking involuntarily, the sound vibrating down my spine.
“You liked that, huh?” Teague drawled behind me, slipping a finger into me…then another. “You like sucking cock while I fuck you with my fingers?”
A strangled sound broke from my chest, muffled around Keane’s length.
“Shit,” Beau groaned. “Look at her. She’s shaking.”
He was right—my body trembled with every glide of Teague’s fingers. My hips rocked back into him desperately, greedily.
Each thrust scraped pleasure against a part of me I couldn’t control. While I worked Keane with my lips, I stroked Beau with the hand not holding myself up, loving the way he breathed harder each time my fingers tightened around him.
“You want to come?” Teague whispered against my ear.
I nodded frantically around Keane.
Keane’s hand threaded in my hair, holding me still as he pulled out slowly, thick and wet from my mouth. His voice dropped to a growl. “Not yet, kitten. Not until we say.”
A soft whine escaped my throat.
Beau tightened his grip in my hair, angling my head back as Keane guided his cock across my lips again.
I opened for him, but before he could slide back inside, Teague pushed a third finger into me, stretching me wide.
“Fuck, she’s soaking,” Teague snarled.
My entire body jolted with pleasure so sharp it almost hurt. My arms shook. My thighs quivered.
I was so close.
Too close.
Just when I was about to fall over the edge, Teague pulled his fingers out of me with a slick sound.
A broken cry tore out of me as he yanked me back by the hips, dragging me away from Beau’s cock and turning me onto my knees.
He lifted his hand to my mouth. “Taste yourself,” he ordered.
I wrapped my lips around his fingers, licking them clean as he watched my tongue drag slowly over the tips.
His breath hissed out between clenched teeth.
Keane leaned in, kissing me slowly, deeply, tasting the saltiness of myself on my tongue. “You taste like fucking magic,” he murmured against my lips.
A sharp gasp burst from me as Teague pressed the blunt head of his cock against my entrance, teasing, nudging, threatening to push inside.
I rocked back, begging silently.
Beau’s hand found my breast, rolling my sensitive nipple between his fingers.
Keane kissed down my throat, sucking the tender skin hard enough to leave a mark.
And then Teague pushed inside.
I moaned—loud and broken—as he stretched me open around him.
My head dropped forward, but Keane caught my chin, holding my eyes on his as Teague began to move.
Slow at first, then deep, then absolutely relentless.
“Oh…fuck…,” I sobbed, my voice shaking.
“Not yet, baby,” Teague growled, tangling his fingers in my hair and pulling my head back. Pain lanced through my scalp, blurring into molten heat.
Keane kissed down my neck and shoulder, worshipping every inch of exposed skin.
“Please,” I begged, tears pooling in my lashes. “Please let me come. Please—”
“I said not yet.” Teague’s voice vibrated against my spine.
Keane took my mouth again, sliding his cock between my lips while Teague fucked me from behind.
The rhythm of their bodies moved me like I wasn’t even mine—like I belonged to them completely.
They held me on that knife edge, dragging me through pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
Teague’s pace quickened.
My body answered every thrust, jerking, trembling, barely breathing.
My arms collapsed under me, but Beau caught my hips, holding me steady as Teague slammed into me.
When Teague’s palm cracked against my ass, pleasure detonated through me so violently I screamed.
“Come for me,” he growled. “Now.”
I shattered.
My orgasm ripped through me in a tidal wave so strong I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
My entire body collapsed forward, shaking uncontrollably as Teague groaned behind me and emptied himself deep inside.
I lay trembling on the sheets, gasping, barely aware of my name.
“How was that, kitten?” Keane whispered. He lifted my chin, kissing me gently this time. “Was that good for you?”
Beau chuckled, low and warm, as he lay beside me.
“I think it was good for us too.”
The Rogues slid off the bed, disappearing briefly into the bathroom.
When they returned, Teague had a warm, damp towel. He turned me onto my back gently, spreading my legs and wiping me clean with careful, reverent strokes.
Once he finished, he crawled up beside me, kissing the inside of my thigh before settling next to me.
Keane tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and whispered, “It’s been six months…and every moment with you still feels like the first.”
“You’re our queen,” Beau added softly as he kissed my cheek. “Never forget that.”
Warmth sank into my bones, exhaustion pulling at my eyelids. I melted into their bodies, their heat, their steady breathing.
“Rest now,” Teague murmured, dragging one finger up the inside of my thigh. “We’ve got business to handle.”
As sleep tugged me under, only one thought echoed through me:
How impossibly lucky I was to have these men at my side—even if we were still trapped in a goddamn asylum.
