47. Simon
While eager to join Quin and Isobel, I also want to give them the opportunity to reunite without my interference. So, after I am clean, dry, and dressed, I do a lap around the house checking on the windows and doors. Everything is as it should be, much to my relief. My paranoia is running rampant having Quin under the roof, because until his parents and Vieux Sang cease to be, he’ll always have a target on his back.
I duck into the kitchen and collect several bottles of water, along with a couple of bowls of the chocolate peanut butter trail mix that Isobel craved during her pregnancy. From the conversations I’ve—reluctantly—had or overheard with Nox and the others about their ruts and heats with Sila, I have no doubt that we’ll need to refuel several times throughout the night. At least having some high-energy snacks available will help to stave off the consequential energy drain.
I head back up toward Isobel’s bedroom. Well, I guess it’s now hers and Quin’s, although I’m not sure where that will leave me. Will I be sharing the room with them too, or remain in the guest room?
The bathroom door is slightly ajar, the sound of running water accompanied by breathy moans and cries and the slapping of wet skin. I quickly set the bowls and bottles on a nightstand, Tálstrom urging me to hurry.
As I make my way over to the attached bathroom, a soft whimper coming from Arina’s bassinet distracts my attention. I lean over the side to check on her, only to notice that she’s lost her pacifier in her sleep. I soothe her, popping the silicone nipple back in her mouth, then stroke my hand gently over her hair. She eases back into a deep sleep with a contented sigh.
I wait another minute or so to see if Arina will awaken again, and when she doesn’t, I resume my path to the bathroom.
Steam billows out and surrounds me as I push open the door, momentarily blinding me to the goings-on inside. As it clears to reveal the carnal act taking place inside the shower stall, Tálstrom lurches forward, pushing his way to the forefront so he can be an active and present participant.
I have a front-row seat to it all, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
Quin has Isobel pinned against the wall of the shower, her hands clutching at his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his hips as he slowly thrusts away between her thighs. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, with the other under her ass, holding her up and supporting her.
I must make a noise because Quin looks up, his eyes glowing with his tiger as he meets my avaricious gaze, and he grins. Blood stains his teeth and gums as he changes his pace, surging into his mate with enough force and speed to have her screaming in ecstasy as she climaxes, and the sweet scent of her slick coats the steamy air, mingling with the existing flavors of blood, cum, and lust.
I’m rock hard, leaking, and desperate to join them both.
“Izzy, it looks like our lion has finally decided to join us. How about we get out of this shower before we run out of hot water, and move this to somewhere more comfortable?”
I’m standing by the shower stall door with a towel open in my hands by the time Isobel has regained enough sensibility and awareness to stand on her own two feet. Quin helps her out of the shower, and I wrap her in the fluffy material, enfolding her in both it and my arms. I pull her into my chest, bracing her against me as I throw Quin another towel then lead her back into the bedroom.
Quin follows closely behind, quickly scrubbing the towel over his hair and torso before wrapping it around his waist. He glances around the room, nodding when he notices the bottled water and bowls of trail mix set aside, but pauses when his gaze lands on Arina’s bassinet.
“Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but do you think it might be better for us to move Arina out of the room before we start anything? I don’t want to wake her up or startle her, or even worse, scar her for life for being in the same room as us when we do this.”
I stare down at Isobel, letting her make the call.
“I think, as long as we’ve got the baby monitor close at hand, it should be okay if we move her into her nursery. We’re going to have to get her used to sleeping in there at any rate, so tonight might be a good a time as any to start.”
Quin nods at Isobel’s suggestion and checks to make sure that the sensors and monitoring station are in place in Arina’s bassinet. Once he’s satisfied that everything is as it should be, he kneels and unlocks the wheels of the frame and then carefully pushes the entire unit out of the room.
I use the intervening time before his return to pat Isobel’s body dry, then bundle her hair into the towel. Quin reenters the room as I’m searching for something to tie her hair back with, because right now none of us have the patience to brush and braid her mass of curls so they’re out of the way. A messy bun will have to suffice.
“Quin, top drawer of the bathroom counter, there’s an open packet of hair ties. Could you please grab one for me? Thank you.” Isobel’s voice is husky, and it sends need racing through me.
“Simon, look at me?”
I still, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before releasing it. I twist around and face the woman who holds my heart, that same muscle beating so hard it feels like it’s trying to pound itself out of my chest.
She’s magnificent.
Isobel is, to me, the personification of femininity. Her physical appearance is everything the goddesses of old were known for. Her curves are lush and generous, her skin creamy and smooth for the most part. Even the reddened marks streaking starkly across her skin don’t detract from her allure—if anything, they accentuate it. She is both maiden and mother, a contradiction of youthful innocence and artful maturity.
Her mind, her heart, and her soul make her so much more.
“Simon, it’s okay. Quin and I are here for you. We can take as long as you want, as long as you need. We’re not going to change our minds. But we’re not going to push you more than you’re comfortable, either. So, if you don’t want to do anything more than cuddle tonight, then that’s all we’ll do. There’s no need to stall.”
The way Isobel can look at me and see through to the heart of my fears and concerns is only one of the many reasons why I adore her. I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to stop, to go another night without making her mine.
OURS!Tálstrom snarls inside my head, and I can’t argue with him. Not anymore. Isobel is ours, just as Arina and Quin are ours. I need to sack up and finally follow through.
I strip.
Isobel
Simon is magnificent. I already know what his body looks like, as he hasn’t changed since the day he shifted to protect me. But at the same time, everything is different.
I’m finally allowed to touch him, taste him, make him mine.
His hair is still damp from his own shower, messily tousled curls falling around his face. His full beard emphasizes his wildness, and his cheekbones are sharp enough to cut glass. His blue eyes flicker with amber-gold, casting his features into a more feral mien. I have a feeling that when he’s fully unleashed, Simon will ravage me without mercy.
I can’t wait.
Beneath his clothing, Simon’s body is a work of art. Sculpted muscles flex and play under the inked skin of his chest and arms, and the tattoos themselves draw the eye. The lion on his chest is one I’m very familiar with, and my fingers itch to touch them both.
“Come here,” I whisper, and he obeys.
Simon’s movements are sleek and feline in their motion, Tálstrom lending him a predatory grace. I’m being stalked and I know it, but I don’t care.
His cock—long and uncut, and with delectable felid spines lining the shaft—thickens as he prowls toward me, rising from the thatch of hair nestled at his groin until it’s bouncing off his stomach. The mushroom-shaped crown peeks from beneath his foreskin, the tip shiny with pre-cum. Long, muscular legs taper down into strong feet, and his right calf is covered with more ink. This is the first time I’ve been able to truly look at it, unlike the ones on Simon’s arms.
It’s a desolate image, filled with death and savagery. A large tree looms above a pool of water, warped and twisted as though the water is poisonous, its branches stretching out across the sky. Tangled among the tree’s roots are the scattered remains of animals and birds, as though they came to drink and perished where they stood. On either side of the water stands a lion, each one almost a mirror image of the other. A mirror image, that is, if it weren’t for the bloodied scars adorning one of the lions.
My heart breaks for the agony Simon has experienced in his life, affecting him so much that he’s permanently etched the memories into his flesh. I want to take him in my arms, smother him with love, and wash all his pain away. Then I remember—I can.
I pat the mattress, wordlessly inviting him to hop up next to me. Simon’s muscles flex and move as he crawls up until he’s by my side, and Quin hovers at the foot of the bed.
“Do you want me to leave you two alone for a little while so there’s less pressure?” Quin asks, and I look to Simon to gauge his thoughts.
“No. Don’t get me wrong, Quin, I don’t find you attractive in that way in the least, but today is about us becoming a family. Besides, Isobel said she wants to try being watched. I know she probably didn’t realize I was watching earlier, but I have to admit, even I found it hot.”
Simon trails his fingers up my leg and over my hip as he speaks, and I tremble beneath his feather-light touch.
“Quin, pull up a chair, and get comfortable. I’m going to take my time with”— Simon stumbles over his next words—“our mate, unless you have any objections? I don’t want to seem selfish, but I have a feeling that once we get started, Tál will be fairly possessive until we have that permanent tie.”
Simon’s fingers never cease moving, each caress softly rousing my need, stoking the flames of my desire. Quin moves to pull a chair closer to the bed, and slouches back in the seat. The towel swathing his hips unravels, exposing his engorged cock, and Quin begins to stroke himself as he watches on.
I burn.
“Simon, please,” I beg, and I reach down to grab at the hand he’s torturing me with. His movements still as I latch on, his gaze uncertain.
“Isobel, are you—” He draws in a sharp breath as I move that scarred, calloused hand to between my thighs, where I’m dripping and desperate for his touch.
“Please!” I plead, releasing his hand.
Simon doesn’t disappoint.
He glides his fingers up and down over my flesh, the outer lips of my pussy slick with the proof of my need. My head lolls back, landing on the pillows propping me up, and my eyes roll back into my head as Simon finally swipes a finger over my clit.
My nerve endings riot, blasting me with sensation. I’m almost overcome by it all, but at the last moment Simon pulls his hand away, leaving me bereft. I cry out, but his lips are there, brushing over mine, the bristles of his beard lightly scratching against my skin.
His lips are warm and soft, parting slightly with each kiss, gently sucking my lower lip between his own. I groan, lifting my hands and digging into his thick mane of hair. My fingers easily slide through the silken strands, and I clench fistfuls of it in my palms as I tug him closer. A sense of urgency thrums through me, transferring to Simon as our kisses turn from sweet sips of our lips, to biting and sucking. We devour each other, and I lose myself in the taste of him.
The heat of Simon’s body as he comes to rest next to me blazes like an inferno, and all I can think is, I need to get closer.
I release one hand from his hair, using it to urge him closer to me, grasping at the skin of his shoulders and back as I part my legs. Simon follows my urging and nestles his hips in the cradle of my thighs, dripping pre-cum over my stomach as he gently rocks against me. His cock, trapped between our bodies, is hard and hot, and I slip my free hand back over Simon’s shoulder and down over his chest and abdomen. I curl my fingers around the textured shaft, exulting in the groan and surging movements my touch provokes. I squeeze my hand tighter, my grip constricting so much that I can feel every throb of Simon’s pulse through his cock.
Simon’s reaction is electrifying.
With a wicked snarl, Simon tears my hands from his hair and body, trapping them in his own iron grip. His hands, however, are large enough that both of mine fit into one of his. He fully exploits this advantage, his hold firm and unrelenting. His free hand roams my body, exploring every dip and curve as his mouth moves from mine to nip at my jaw and earlobes before nuzzling into the side of my neck.
Oh. My. GODS.
There’s that one spot where your neck meets your shoulder, that is ultra-sensitive. On me, it’s the one place guaranteed to rev my engines so hard that it’ll have me on the cusp of orgasm within seconds. When the hair of Simon’s beard tickles over that spot, I explode. My pussy clenches down on air, my hips bucking up as my climax smashes through me. I don’t even scream as I come, because I can’t gasp enough air into my lungs to do so.
“Fuck, Isobel, you’re fucking perfect,” Simon rasps against my throat as he reaches down, notching the tip of his cock at my slick opening.
“I wanted my mouth on you first, but I won’t last if I do. Plus, Tál is riding me hard. He wants to be yours and make you ours.” His eyes glitter and churn with need as he stares down at me, vulnerability lurking in the background.
“I promise, I’ll make it up to you later.”
Make what up to me? I wonder in the seconds before I lose my mind.
Simon surges forward, his cock sliding into my hot, wet depths, and my thoughts scatter to the winds.
Isobel is gone.
I’m nothing but sensations.