Chapter 34 #4
"Fuck," Harper breathed against my hair, his voice cracked and raw. "Artemis. Look at you. So wet for us. So ready. I can see it—can see how much you need us."
"I need—" I started, but the words dissolved into a moan as Silas's mouth found my inner thigh.
His lips were soft at first, pressing gentle kisses to the sensitive skin, but then his mouth opened and his tongue traced a hot, wet path upward.
The scrape of his stubble followed—rough texture against skin so sensitive it felt almost raw—and I could feel his breath hot and damp against my center even through the soaked cotton of my underwear.
He was so close. So close to where I needed him.
Close enough that every exhale fanned across my covered folds, making me twitch, making my hips try to roll toward his mouth without my permission.
The anticipation was killing me—pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in my belly, desperate for release.
"Please," I whimpered, the word coming out broken and desperate. "Silas, please—I need—I can't—" He pressed a kiss directly over my center, through the wet cotton, and I nearly screamed.
The pressure was perfect and not enough—the barrier of fabric both maddening and exquisite.
I could feel the shape of his lips through the cotton, the heat of his breath, the gentle suction as he mouthed at me.
My clit throbbed against the attention, swollen and aching, desperate for direct contact.
I could feel slick pulse out of me in response, soaking the fabric further, and I heard him groan at the taste of me even through the barrier.
He smiled against me—I could feel the curve of his lips—and something about that, about him being pleased, made heat flood through me even hotter.
"Not yet," Harper rumbled in my ear, and I could hear the massive strain in his voice, the effort it cost him to hold back.
His whole body was tense against my back, coiled tight like a spring about to release, and I could feel his cock pressing against my lower back through his jeans, thick and hard and straining.
"We've got time. Let us take care of you properly. "
"I don't want to wait," I panted, my fingers fisting in the blankets hard enough that my knuckles ached. My whole body was trembling now, wound so tight I thought I might shatter from the tension alone. "I want—I need—"
"Soon." Harper's hand slid down my stomach, his rough palm dragging across my quivering muscles, leaving fire in its wake.
His fingers teased at the waistband of my underwear, dipping just beneath the elastic to brush against the soft curls there before retreating.
The tease was exquisite torture—promising relief and then snatching it away.
"Soon. But not tonight. Tonight we just.. . ease the edge. Help you sleep."
Remy released my nipple with a wet pop, the sudden absence of his mouth making me whimper.
My nipple was swollen and flushed, glistening with his saliva, achingly sensitive to every breath of air.
He looked up at me with dark amber eyes, his lips swollen and shiny, his chin wet with his own spit and probably my sweat.
"He's right, chere." His voice was wrecked, barely recognizable as the smooth charmer he usually was. Raw Cajun honey, stripped of all performance. He managed a smile that was equal parts tenderness and want. "You need rest before the heat really hits. Let us help you. Let us give you this."
"I don't want to rest," I protested weakly, even as my body relaxed into their holds against my will, my omega instincts purring at being surrounded, being cared for, being wanted by three Alphas who looked at me like I was everything. "I want—"
"We know what you want." Silas's breath was hot against my thigh, his pale eyes burning up at me from between my legs, his face inches from my soaked center.
His pupils were blown so wide his eyes looked black.
"We want it too. So badly it hurts. But you set the rules.
And the rules say we take care of you. So let us. "
I opened my mouth to argue—to tell them I didn't need rest, I needed them, all of them, inside me—but Harper's hand slipped inside my underwear, his thick fingers sliding through the slick gathered there, and every thought I'd ever had evaporated.
He groaned against my ear, the sound vibrating through my skull and down my spine, settling between my legs. "Jesus Christ, Artemis." His voice came out strangled, wrecked. "You're soaking. You're absolutely drenched. Dripping for us."
His fingers explored gently at first—learning the shape of me, the folds and hollows, the places that made me gasp.
Two fingers slid through my wetness, gathering slick, spreading it up and around.
I could hear the obscene wet sounds of his touch, could feel how easily his fingers glided through the mess I'd made.
Then those fingers found my clit.
The first touch was electric—a bolt of pure sensation that made my whole body jerk.
My clit was so swollen, so sensitive, that even the gentlest pressure felt like too much and not enough simultaneously.
Harper circled it slowly, learning the rhythm that made me moan, adjusting the pressure until he found exactly the right spot, exactly the right speed.
I saw stars. Actual stars, bursting behind my eyelids, and I hadn't even realized I'd closed my eyes.
"That's it," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low growl that made my toes curl, made my walls clench around nothing.
His other arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me against his broad chest, keeping me grounded when the pleasure threatened to send me flying.
"There you go, sweetheart. Let go. We've got you. "
Remy's mouth returned to my breasts with renewed intensity, alternating between them with focused attention.
His tongue circled my left nipple while his fingers found my right, pinching and rolling in counterpoint to his mouth.
He sucked hard enough to border on pain, then soothed with soft licks, then bit gently—his teeth a sharp contrast to the wet heat of his tongue.
His free hand traced every curve and dip of my torso, exploring.
He found a spot just below my ribs that made me gasp—some nerve cluster I didn't know existed—and pressed there, making pleasure radiate outward.
He found a place on my hip, right where the bone jutted out, that made me moan when he dug his thumb in.
He was cataloging every reaction, learning my body like it was a map he intended to memorize completely, marking every path that led to my pleasure.
Between my thighs, Silas was leaving his own marks.
His mouth worked my inner thighs with devastating attention—licking, sucking, biting.
Each press of his teeth was followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue, each suck hard enough to bring blood to the surface, marking me with bruises that would bloom purple by morning.
His scarred fingers dug into my hips, holding me still when I tried to squirm, keeping me pinned as he decorated my thighs with evidence of his desire.
Every scrape of his teeth sent electricity sparking through my veins.
Every new bruise forming on my thighs felt like ownership, like claiming, like a promise of more to come.
The slight pain only intensified the pleasure flooding through me, adding edges to the sensation, making everything sharper, brighter, more.
I was surrounded. Consumed. Drowning in sensation and scent and the overwhelming rightness of being in the center of these three Alphas.
Harper's pine and moonshine wrapped around me from behind.
Remy's honey and whiskey flooded my senses from the side.
Silas's ozone and rain rose up from between my thighs.
And underneath it all, my own apple cider, sharpening into something sweeter, headier, unmistakably aroused.
Three Alphas. One omega. The scents combined until I couldn't tell where I ended and they began.
The orgasm built slowly, inevitably—a rising tide that crested higher with every stroke of Harper's thick fingers, every pull of Remy's hot mouth, every scrape of Silas's sharp teeth.
I could feel it gathering low in my belly, coiling tighter and tighter, a spring wound past its breaking point.
My thighs trembled uncontrollably. My hands had found Harper's arm across my waist, my nails digging in hard enough to leave crescents in his skin. My head had fallen back against his shoulder, my throat bared, vulnerable and trusting.
I could hear myself making sounds—keens and whimpers and broken versions of their names—but I couldn't stop, couldn't control anything. My body wasn't mine anymore. It belonged to them, to their hands and mouths, to the pleasure they were wringing from me.
"So beautiful," Remy murmured against my breast, his accent so thick the words slurred together. "So perfect like this. All flushed and trembling for us. Our perfect omega. Ours."
"Ours," Harper agreed, his fingers moving faster now, circling my clit with maddening precision, the wet sounds of his touch obscene in the quiet of the nest. His other arm tightened around my waist, anchoring me against his chest as the pleasure threatened to sweep me away entirely.
"That's it, sweetheart. You're so close.
I can feel it. Can feel you clenching, fluttering.
Come for us, Artemis. Let us see you. Let us hear you fall apart. "
"Please," I sobbed, though I wasn't sure anymore if I was begging them to stop or never stop. The pleasure had built past the point of no return, cresting toward something huge, something terrifying in its intensity. "Please, please, I can't—I need—it's too much—"