by Rhea Watson
Slick with my arousal, he eased into me inch by inch, pausing whenever my breath caught or my nails bit into Gunnar’s shoulder. They both kissed me in the meantime, Gunnar along my neck, brushing over my parted lips, across my flushed cheeks, and Declan down my back, along my sides, nibbling at a few ticklish spots that made me exhale soft giggles.
It was a tight fit. A little painful, even as a reaper, but the pair handled me gently, stroking me, kissing me. Declan’s fingers eventually found my clit, massaging it so tenderly that I almost came again from that alone. When he had filled me to the hilt, his packmate took hold of my hips again, and my eyes rounded in shock when he eased into my sex.
Both of them—at the same time?
I let out another helpless moan, trapped between them and loving every second of it. Somehow, they made this work without a word shared between them, but I couldn’t help wondering what the trio felt along their pack bond. Was it as tangled as my brain, hazy with lust and desire and affection—the beginnings of love?
I desperately wanted to know, but every thought evaporated when Gunnar thrust up fully, claiming me once more. Declan rocked in and out of me with slow, deliberate movements, steady and unfaltering in comparison to Gunnar’s rough, hurried bucks of his hips. They stayed true to themselves, mindful of each other as they had their way with me, and once more I was left to play catch-up—to hang on for dear life and hope I survived.
At one point—a time that could have been seconds after they both filled me, minutes, hours—Declan wrapped my hair around his hand, then gently lifted my head up.
“Tell us how you feel, reaper,” Gunnar ordered, his smirk both knowing and mocking, confident and playful. Sometime in the last however long I’d been trapped between them, Knox had pulled up a stool next to the island, and he continued to watch the display in silence. He cocked his head to the side when I shakily met his black eyes, one strong arm stretched possessively across the end of the island, just over Gunnar.
A teasing twist of my nipple had me yelping, dragging me back to Gunnar’s question. How did I feel?
Overwhelmed.
Enamored.
Adored.
Desired.
My incoherent babbling response showed just how useless my brain was with both of them thrusting into me under Knox’s watchful eye. The trio grinned, Declan’s affectionate smile lingering in my peripherals, the grind of his hips harder now, slowly but surely catching up with Gunnar’s rough thrusts.
“What?” Gunnar tapped a finger under my chin. “I don’t think any of us quite got that…”
“We want to hear you, sweet,” Declan whispered into my ear, and I let out a feeble whimper. How did they expect me to form actual sentences right now? Seriously. This was just cruel.
Swallowing hard, I forced my mouth to move. “I feel… I feel…”
“Say it,” Knox rumbled. Trembling, I collapsed onto one elbow, my head to Gunnar’s chest, everything down south wholly occupied.
“I feel full,” I whined, embarrassment burning in my cheeks when a chorus of baritone chuckles arose around me. As if that declaration was all they needed, Gunnar and Declan pumped faster, harder, the three of us rocking back and forth on the island countertop—an island that I would never be able to look at the same again.
Not without remembering how it felt to be so—full.
It felt heavenly. Overwhelming, sure. But wonderful too. Like I was complete in the best way.
And it only got better when Declan reached between Gunnar and me to find my clit. He stroked the little bundle as best he could, the angle awkward but my hellhound determined. With Gunnar catching something delicious on my inner walls with every harsh thrust and Declan toying with me relentlessly, I came with a little half shout. Eyes clenched shut, my body tightened, tightened, tightened, the pleasure sizzling, until it all just broke apart, an avalanche of ecstasy rushing over me, demolishing everything in sight.
Both Gunnar and Declan groaned as my core clenched and my sex rippled with another stunning orgasm, and I vaguely felt teeth on my shoulder in the fuzzy aftermath. Declan’s hand clamped over Knox’s mark on the opposite side, his pace quickening, his grunts more like growls as he pumped into me. As if accommodating, allowing his packmate to take the spotlight, Gunnar had stopped moving completely, his hands on my hips—practically lifting them up for me because every muscle and bone in my body had dissolved into jelly.
Teeth that had just grazed and nipped before now sunk into my flesh when Declan pounded once, twice, three times, then stilled against me, his body shuddering through a climax of his own, his bite searing. Weakly, I lifted a hand to twine into his hair, relishing his teeth on my skin.
I should have been satisfied: two climaxes and another mark on my body? A mark that would likely be permanent, just like Knox’s… That should have been enough. But as Declan licked across the tender wound on my shoulder, slowly inching out of me, I wanted more. I craved Gunnar’s release, his face twisted in an almost painful bliss. I’d seen it before. I’d fought the memories of both him and Declan, the snapshots of our most intimate moments popping up at inappropriate times.
As of this morning, Knox had been added to my memory bank, although his was more of a physical recollection, given he’d been behind me at the time. But I wanted to see it. Slowly, my gaze drifted over to the alpha, to his obsidian stare and his scarred face, to a mouth that had tainted this reaper’s flesh when nothing else had ever left so much as a scratch.
“Insatiable, this one,” Gunnar rasped, and heat flared through me from top to bottom when I realized he’d caught me staring at his alpha—ogling him, fantasizing, reminiscing. His sly mouth quirked, and before I knew it, he had us both up and seated. Declan’s arm wrapped around my waist, and he tenderly hoisted me off the counter, the pack once again communicating without a word. Gunnar hopped off shortly after, taking over from a flushed Declan. Over my shoulder, I caught my sweetest hellhound leaning against the island, his brow sweaty, his cheeks pink, his full mouth lifted in the most beautiful smile.
But I was forced to look away when Gunnar steered me toward Knox—when he took my hands and placed them on his alpha’s waistline. Knox’s cock strained against his trousers, and weak from two climaxes, my uncoordinated fingers struggled to get the button open, to wrench the zipper down. I managed—somehow. With an elbow propped on the island, the alpha simply watched me peel his trousers aside, then free his cock with trembling hands.
His cheek twitched when I circled a finger around the engorged silky head, and the huge hand that had once sat loose on the counter tightened to a fist when I risked stroking his thick shaft.
“Come on, Hazel, we can do better than that,” Gunnar murmured in my ear. He dragged his tongue down the column of my throat, over Declan’s mark at its base, before he cuffed me on the back of the neck and guided me down.
Instinct took over again; I parted my lips, taking Knox into my mouth an inch at a time, not stopping until he nudged the back of my throat. He snarled softly when I eased off and swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock. The alpha drew in a ragged breath, nostrils flaring as I bobbed up and down slowly, and the hand that had sat uselessly on his lap all this time found its way to my hair.
Tonight, he was shockingly gentle with me, all the brutality and pent-up frustration from the forest gone in the way he played with my hair. In fact, I swore I felt him twirling it around one finger, all the while watching me, never once pulling his gaze elsewhere.
Not that I could look away either. As soon as our eyes found each other, I was done for, not able to think—just move.
Gunnar’s presence disappeared behind me, the absence of his hellhound heat, his cock nudging insistently against my thigh, leaving me rather exposed. Bent over in front of an alpha, a chill skittered down my spine, and like the ripple in a pond, it flared out, little goose bumps rising across my arms and legs, up my neck.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Gunnar hopping up on t
he kitchen island, his knee brushing my shoulder, his shaft sticking straight up at the helm of his thighs. Having two of them watch me taking Knox’s cock in my mouth was almost too much, and my sex ached with need once more, desperate to be full again.
As if sensing my wants, perhaps even seeing them in my eyes, Knox smoothed his hand from my hair to the underside of my chin. Gently, he lifted me from his shaft, and we moved in tandem, like dance partners expertly flowing from one step to the next. With his support, I climbed into his lap, my hands going for his shirt before we floated effortlessly to the next bit of footwork in this dance. Lower lip caught between my teeth, I dragged his thin jumper over his head, needing to really feel him, the coarse hair on his chest, the steel beneath his flesh.
Knox let me manhandle him—let me throw his shirt aside, brush his thick black hair over his shoulders. He let me cuddle up to him, cup his strong jaw, kiss him so deeply I swore I tasted his soul.
Only he didn’t have a soul.
None of us did.
But in that kiss, there was something more inside him, something that bonded us together—and I craved it with every fiber of my being. I kissed him hungrily, greedily, not even breaking when he steered my hips over him, aligned our bodies so that when he slammed me down, I took him all in one swift stroke.
I felt Gunnar and Declan’s interest in our union, in the way they shuffled about behind us, the low growls, the rush of heat turning this kitchen into a goddamn sauna. Between them, I had been putty in their very skilled hands, something to be molded and taken, my pleasure dispensed at their discretion. Yet with Knox, I had some control. So much larger than me, he could have easily thrown me about, pinned me here and there, set the pace that best suited us.
But he just sat there, taking my desperate kiss in stride, one huge hand on my lower back as I swirled my hips. Pleasure tingled in my core, and my belly looped deliciously when my clit brushed up against him with every rock of my body.
“Hazel…” I’d never heard desperation drip from Gunnar’s lips until now. Only that could tear me away from Knox’s firm mouth, and I found his beta studying me, stroking himself, waiting. Licking my lips, I leaned over to taste the head of his cock, taking just that in my mouth and smiling at the sound of his pleasurable hiss. Knox took over the motion of our bodies, both hands rocking my hips, grinding me down against him so that the exquisite build I’d felt between my thighs remained unbroken.
Where Knox had been gentle and indulgent when I used my mouth on him, Gunnar was as rough as he had been before, one hand in my hair, holding me as he pumped into my mouth. My gaze darted up to his royal blues, and I found every inch of him rigid, mouth in a thin line, jaw gritted. I wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, my lips colliding with my fist as I took him faster, deeper, his hips bucking up hard to take advantage.
He spilled himself into my mouth minutes later, a hot burst of salty essence dribbling down the back of my throat. I coughed and arched against the sudden onslaught, but he snatched up my free hand before I could push at his torso, in need of a breath, his shaft buried deep. Pain cut through the pleasure building in my core; his teeth had found my wrist, and as he shuddered and jerked into my mouth, he marked me like Declan and Knox with a bite.
“Gunnar,” Knox growled, and the hellhound finally eased up on my hair. I sat up with a shaky gasp, eyes watery, and found my wrist still clamped firmly in Gunnar’s mouth. Gold blood dribbled down my forearm, and when his eyes fluttered open, they locked on me, so vulnerable, so open. I’d thought I had tasted Knox’s soul in our kiss before, but here, I swore I saw Gunnar’s in his eyes. Beautiful.
And Declan’s soul…
I felt Declan’s soul in his touch.
All these souls that didn’t exist—depth. That was a better word for it. I experienced the depth of these three hellhounds in a way I never had before, but I desperately wanted to again.
When Gunnar finally released me, he kissed the wound on my wrist, licked at the ichor staining my pale flesh. Once, his smirk had made me bristle; tonight, I found it endearing. I grinned back, then slowly retracted my arm, cradling it to my chest, eager to examine each of the three marks sometime later in the mirror. Would they be as individual as the hellhounds who gave them to me?
God, I hoped so.
Soundlessly, Gunnar slid off the island, and as soon as the space cleared, Knox shot up, carrying me with him. All this time, he had seemed like a passive participant, keen to just play the voyeur while his pack had their way with me. But as he pinned me up against the smooth edge of the island, I realized that wasn’t the case at all.
Knox had just been biding his time.
Letting his pack feast first for once.
He wasn’t passive—he never would be.
And I’d never fully be in control with him, no matter what he let me do to him, how he let me kiss him…
I let out a startled cry at his sudden ferocity, at the way he hooked his hands under my knees and lifted me, spread me open for him. The shifting angle allowed him to plunge deeper. Trapped in place, I threw one arm around his neck, while my free hand clung to his shoulder. His first thrust was brutal, verging on violent—and I fucking loved it.
“Kn-nox,” I whimpered breathlessly, digging my nails hard into his flesh and wishing I could mark him up like he had me. He snarled back, teeth to my neck, pounding into me with the force of a late-summer storm, the kind that felled trees and tore shingles from rooftops. After Gunnar and Declan, my body ached, the pain almost pleasant, but when Knox was through with me, I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to stand again.
Even the island struggled to keep up with him, the wood creaking, the quartz groaning, all of it threatening to crack right down the middle the harder he drove into me. He should have frightened me, but I found myself whispering, begging, for him to go harder, faster, deeper—take me. And Knox complied. Vigorously. In fact, this felt like one of the few things we had ever agreed on.
My third climax came like an explosion, sudden and vicious, destructive in the best way. I cried out in his arms, scoring my teeth across his rugged pectoral and teetering on the verge of a breakdown. Pleasure had me seeing stars, stars that snapped and burned behind my closed lids, Knox’s name spilling from my lips over and over again until he stilled. Unyielding as my scythe, the alpha stuttered to a halt against me, buried deep inside, practically slamming me through the island, and his body trembled as he spilled himself inside me. Buried against my neck, his mouth hovered over the mark he had made this morning, and the bloody scars left by Gunnar and Declan tingled—as if sensing a kindred spirit.
It was only when Knox eased out of me and carefully set my feet on the ground that I broke. My knees buckled, my hands flailed out for the counter, and the alpha caught me before I hit the floor. Silently, he scooped me up and set me back on the island, my chin dropped to my chest; I just didn’t possess the strength to lift it anymore, everything inside totally liquified. Moments later, something warm and soft slipped over my head, and I vaguely felt someone maneuvering my arms through sleeves.
Knox’s black jumper was far too big for me—it was practically a dress. But it smelled like him. It enveloped me in the softest hug. I never wanted to take it off, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from shivering. Even my teeth chattered, the lack of hellhound skin contact leaving me cold, well and truly freezing, for the first time since I had returned to the human realm like this—dead yet not, my touch frigid and my heartbeat slow.
Gunnar stepped in with his trousers, both him and Knox manhandling me, sliding the luxe material up my legs. I tried to protest, insisting that I’d ruin them, stain them with what was dripping out of me, but that seemed like the furthest thing from anyone’s mind—so I let it go. As soon as Knox gathered my hair and arranged it over my shoulders, keeping the wisps away from my face, Declan materialized out of nowhere in front of me with a mug of tea in hand. Steam spiraled off the surface, a little string hanging over the side of the cup
.
I accepted the drink with a tired smile and wrapped both hands around it, the sleeves of Knox’s jumper covering my palms and muffling the burn. Earl Grey with a splash of milk and sugar—a favorite that had followed me into the afterlife.
“You all right, sweet?” Declan asked, his hand on my knee. The pack hovered around me like they never would have at the start of all this, directly in my personal bubble, either touching me or within an inch of it. Exhausted, sore, satisfied, and a little dazed, I struggled to find the words to answer—but I knew what I wanted: to dive into a pile of hellhounds, all of us snoozing on top of each other, just like they had been the first time I set eyes on them.
But this would do for now. Three gorgeous, naked, sweaty, muscly men eyeing me warily, waiting with bated breath for a response.
They certainly knew how to make a girl feel wanted.
After a tentative sip, finding the tea much too hot but delicious all the same, I nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” To my right, Gunnar watched on with a furrowed brow, arms crossed and a dribble of my gold blood on his chin. Blowing on my tea, I wiped the ichor away with my thumb. Of the trio, Gunnar was somehow the most vocal lover, someone to set the pace, lead the way—and I appreciated that about him. He was an instigator, and given I had never done this before with more than one man, I needed someone like that.
“I think so,” I managed. Knox curled his arm around my hips, my butt, and I leaned into the embrace with a weary sigh. Everything still felt full—most of all, my heart. Having them all so close to me in the aftermath, my body experiencing sensations I hadn’t since I was alive, taking in the concern in their eyes, the affection… It was a lot to process.
And yet my mind was blissfully empty for the first time all day, like I already knew the answer to every question, comment, and concern from my nagging inner monologue.