Chapter 30 Beth
Beth
Mason's mouth is on mine and something in my chest cracks open.
The drive home from the cabin was two hours of Maren talking and Harper singing along to the radio and me in the backseat with my window cracked, breathing through my mouth because every inhale through my nose brought them back.
Three scents I couldn't scrub from the inside of my skull no matter how many miles we put between us.
By the time I walked through my front door and smelled all three of them in the hallway, I was done pretending I had any willpower left.
Now, I'm anchored in place by Mason's hand at the base of my skull, his other gripping my hip.
A warm breath ghosts across the side of my neck before Arthur's mouth presses right below my ear. The sudden contact pulls a sound from my throat that I've never made in front of another person.
Over by the doorway, Knox still hasn't moved. Even with my eyes half-closed, I can feel the heavy weight of his stare as he watches, patiently cataloguing every single reaction before he decides exactly where to put his hands.
The intense pressure shifts as Mason pulls back just enough to catch my gaze. His eyes are pitch dark, and the fresh bruise under his left eye makes him look completely wrecked before we've even started.
"Are you sure?" he asks. His voice is incredibly low. Rough.
I'm not sure of anything anymore, except that I want this.
So I grab the front of his shirt and drag his mouth back to mine and kiss him like I'm trying to prove it.
Hard. Open-mouthed. My teeth catch his lower lip and the growl that rolls out of him vibrates through my whole body.
His hand tightens around my neck and he kisses me back just as fiercely, his tongue sliding against mine, and I hear Arthur let out a low, appreciative sound against my neck.
That seems to do it for Knox, who crosses the room and runs his thumb along my jaw.
Mason releases me just enough for Knox to tilt my face toward him, which he kisses like he has all the time in the world. His hand slides to the back of my neck and he kisses me deeper, slower, his tongue tracing my lower lip before slipping past it.
Arthur's fingers brush the bare skin of my waist and my stomach contracts so hard I almost double over.
We barely make the couch. I'm on Mason's lap, straddling him, his hands sliding up the back of my shirt while Arthur pulls my face to his for a kiss that's messier than Knox's, wetter, his tongue on my lower lip before he bites down gently.
Knox sits on my other side, his thumb drawing a slow circle on the inside of my knee that is systematically dismantling my higher brain function.
I pull back from Arthur long enough to yank my shirt over my head.
Three pairs of eyes drop. Then Mason pulls his shirt over his head in one rough motion.
Arthur drags his off without breaking eye contact with my chest, the golden expanse of him catching the dim light coming from the window.
Knox unbuttons his shirt and sets it on the arm of the couch.
Mason pulls me against his chest. Skin on skin. God, his heat, the dense, broad mass of him. Every nerve lights up. I roll my hips against him and his fingers dig into my waist.
"My bedroom," I whisper.
***
Mason lays me down and stands back. The three of them are shirtless, breathing hard, looking at me like I'm something they've been starving for.
For a split second, a sudden, primal spike of awareness hits me. I am an unbonded omega, and there are three massive, scent-matched alphas standing inside my bedroom. Biologically speaking, having an entire pack here should be a massive deal.
But then Knox’s hands drop to his belt buckle, Arthur kicks off his shoes, and Mason unbuttons his jeans. And instead of panic, all my instincts do is settle into this bone-deep certainty that they belong exactly where they are.
They strip. I sit up on my elbows. "Get over here."
Arthur stretches out beside me, runs his hand from my collarbone to my waistband and keeps going.
His fingers slide under my shorts and find my clit.
I arch into him with a gasp. Mason's mouth is on my throat, his hand at my bra clasp.
He unhooks it one-handed. Pulls it off. His mouth drops to my breast and I'm already losing my mind.
Knox kneels at the foot of the bed. Hooks my pants and underwear and strips them off in one motion. Presses his mouth to the inside of my knee, then higher.
His mouth finds my clit and I stop breathing, grabbing his hair because I need something to hold onto.
Arthur swallows the sound I make with a kiss as Mason's teeth graze my nipple and my back bows off the mattress. Knox is slow and devastating between my legs, hands pressing my thighs apart, tongue working me in tight circles.
I'm shaking with need. I need them.
I sit up, legs trembling, and reach for Mason first.
I push him onto his back. He touches my face, thumb on my cheekbone, while I wrap my hand around his cock. His eyes close. A low rumble rolls out of his chest.
I lower my mouth to him.
The sound he makes is the most noise Mason has ever made in front of me. I take him deeper and his hips buck before he catches himself. His hand tightens in my hair.
"Fuck, Beth." His voice is wrecked. Barely a voice at all. "You feel so good."
Arthur's behind me. Hands on my hips, mouth trailing down my spine. His fingers slide between my thighs and I gasp around Mason's cock.
I'm so wet it's almost embarrassing, and when I rock back against him, the head of his cock drags through my slickness.
My hips circle, teasing, and Arthur makes a sound like I'm killing him.
Then his hand tightens on my hip, angles me, and he sinks into me in a slow, delicious stretch—until he bottoms out with a growl that vibrates against my spine.
I moan around Mason. Arthur's hands dig into my hips. For a second nobody moves.
Then Arthur's his hips snap forward and I cry out. Mason sits up, pulls my mouth to his, swallowing every sound Arthur drives out of me. His hands cup my face while Arthur fucks me harder from behind.
"Fuck, Beth—" Arthur's voice breaks on my name.
Knox is beside us. Watching with those dark, patient eyes, his hand on his cock. When I reach for him he lets out a breath. I wrap my hand around him, matching Arthur's rhythm, his head dropping back. He's so thick and his knot is already swelling.
Arthur swears. His rhythm stutters. He buries himself deep and comes with a groan that reverberates through my whole body, his knot swelling and locking us together.
The sensation drags me over the edge with him.
My orgasm tears through me so hard my vision whites out.
I cry out around Mason's cock, my whole body clenching, shaking.
The vibration of my moan and the way my throat tightens around him must be too much, because Mason's hand fists in my hair, his hips jerking as he comes with a groan.
I swallow everything, still trembling, my hand still busy around Knox's dick.
If anything my grip even tightens, my rhythm going relentless, and Knox's breath fractures. His knot swells hard against my palm, he comes with a rough exhale, his release spilling warm over my fingers.
For a long time, nobody moves. Arthur's knot holds us together, his forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, breath slowing against my skin. Mason's hand is still in my hair. Knox's thumb traces circles on my wrist.
When Arthur's knot finally releases and he pulls out gently, he presses a kiss to the base of my spine. Then we all collapse like someone cut our strings.
I'm lying in a tangle of them. I don't know whose leg is over mine. Someone's heartbeat is thudding against my shoulder blade and someone else's breath is warm on my collarbone. My body feels like it's been taken apart and put back together differently.
Except better, definitely.
***
Everything aches yet everything feels good.
I lie there for a while, watching Knox's lashes twitch, feeling Mason's breathing lift me in slow, steady waves, and listening to Arthur's quiet snore.
Eventually, though, my muscles are screaming for hot water and I smell like three different alphas and sex. I am absolutely not having whatever conversation comes next like this.
Getting free is its own Olympic event. Mason lets out a low growl when I shift and drags me back against him. I have to peel his fingers off me one by one until he finally rolls into my warm spot and buries his face in the pillow.
Knox lets out a low, sleep-heavy rumble, his massive arm automatically flexing to keep my hips pinned to the mattress before his grip finally goes slack with a sigh.
I try to slide my ankle free from Arthur, and he makes this tiny, wounded noise, pulling my leg tighter against his chest. I quickly swap in a handful of comforter, and he takes it without waking.
That shouldn't make my chest ache as much as it does.
I grab Arthur's flannel off the chair, pull it on, and steal a pair of Mason's sweatpants from the dresser, rolling the waist four times (they still drag on the floor).
I pick up my phone off the nightstand on my way out to the shower, and the screen lights up with a notification:
Whitmore Capital: RE: Wildflower & Vine — URGENT: Revised Acquisition Terms
I read the email, and the floor drops out from under me.