Chapter 16
Tessa
Time stops making sense.
There’s only sensation. Only need. Only the endless cycle of emptiness and fullness, pain and pleasure, desperate wanting and blissful relief.
I lose track of which alpha is touching me. Lose track of how many times I’ve come. Lose track of everything except the heat burning through my veins and the hands that keep pulling me back from the edge.
The nest smells like all of us now. Leather and musk, cedarwood and honey, dark chocolate and amber—all layered over my own lavender and citrus. Pack scent. The thought drifts through my foggy brain and settles somewhere warm.
A mouth between my thighs. Elijah, I think.
Patient and thorough, licking me like he has all the time in the world—like we’re not trapped in a cabin during a blizzard, like the heat isn’t demanding more, always more.
His tongue drags through my folds, circles my clit, pushes inside me.
I’m dripping slick down my thighs, soaking the nest beneath me, and he groans against my pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
I can’t speak. Can only whimper and rock my hips against his face, chasing the pleasure building low in my belly. My fingers find his hair, grip tight. He hums approval against my clit and the vibration makes me gasp.
He seals his lips over my clit and sucks, and I shatter. Silent scream, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the mattress. The orgasm rolls through me in waves, and before it even fades, the emptiness is back.
More. I need more.
Hands roll me onto my side. Ben’s scent surrounds me as he presses against my back, all warm skin and solid muscle. His cock slides between my thighs, coating himself in my slick, and I push back against him desperately.
“Easy.” His voice is rough. Wrecked. “I’ve got you.”
He pushes inside and I sob with relief. Full. Finally full again. The ache recedes just enough that I can breathe, can think, can exist as something other than pure want.
He fucks me slow at first, one hand on my hip, the other reaching around to palm my breast. His thumb circles my nipple while he thrusts, and I’m already climbing again. Everything is so sensitive, so heightened. Every touch feels magnified.
“That’s it.” His breath is hot against my ear. “Taking my cock so well. This greedy little pussy just swallows me right up, doesn’t it? So wet and tight. Could fuck you forever.”
I can’t respond. Can only moan and push back to meet his thrusts. The angle is perfect, hitting that spot inside me that makes sparks shoot behind my eyes.
“Gonna knot this pretty pussy,” he says, speeding up. “Gonna fill you up until you’re dripping with me. You want that? Want my knot stretching you open?”
I nod frantically. Want it. Need it. Need to be locked and filled and whole.
His knot starts to swell, catching at my rim with each thrust. The stretch is incredible, pleasure and pressure building to something impossible. Then it pops inside me, locking us together, and he comes with a groan that vibrates through my whole body.
I come too. Clenching around his knot, milking him, feeling his release flood into me hot and thick. My vision goes white and I float somewhere outside my body for a long, blissful moment.
His. Theirs. Pack.
When I come back, he’s still inside me. Still holding me close. His hand strokes up and down my side while we wait for his knot to go down.
“Sleep,” he murmurs. “Rest while you can.”
I’m asleep before he finishes the sentence.
I wake to pain.
Not as sharp as before, but insistent. The emptiness is back, hollow and aching, demanding to be filled.
Someone is already there. Milo, his dark eyes watching my face as I swim back to consciousness.
“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is soft. “I know. I’ve got you.”
He’s already hard, already positioning himself. I spread my legs wider, beyond shame, beyond embarrassment. Just need.
He pushes in slowly, watching my face the whole time. Checking that I’m okay. That this is what I want.
It is. God, it is.
“More,” I manage. The only word I can form.
He gives me more. Deeper thrusts, harder pace. His hands grip my hips, tilting me up to take him at an angle that makes me see stars. I’m making sounds I don’t recognize—animal noises of pleasure and relief.
“That’s it.” He’s breathing hard. “Feel how deep I am? Feel my cock. This needy little pussy’s taking me so well. Made for this. Made for my knot.”
I nod. Can feel him everywhere. Feel my body stretching to accommodate him, feel my pussy clenching and grasping, trying to keep him inside.
“Your slick’s everywhere,” he says. “Dripping down my balls. Making a mess of both of us. So fucking hot, Tessa. Could drown in this pussy.”
His dirty talk pushes me higher. I’m right on the edge, teetering, needing just a little more.
He reaches between us, finds my clit, presses down. “Come. Now.”
I explode.
The orgasm rips through me, violent and consuming. I clench so hard around him that he groans, and then his knot is swelling, catching, popping inside me. He comes with my name on his lips, flooding me with heat.
Mine. He’s mine. They’re all mine.
We’re locked. Pulsing together. I’m crying again, overwhelmed, and he kisses the tears from my cheeks without comment.
“Sleep,” he says. Same word Ben used. Same gentle command.
I obey.
Time blurs.
I stop trying to track it. Stop trying to make sense of which alpha is where, who’s touching me, how long it’s been. There’s only the cycle: wake, need, get filled, come, sleep. Repeat.
Sometimes there’s food. Water pressed to my lips, and I drink greedily without opening my eyes. “Good girl,” someone murmurs. Milo, I think. “Need to keep you hydrated.”
Hands lift my head. Something sweet presses against my lips. Apple, maybe. I bite down, taste juice, and realize I’m starving. I eat whatever they give me. Fruit and crackers and something that might be chocolate. I don’t care. Just chew and swallow and let them take care of me.
“How long?” I manage at some point. The words feel strange in my mouth, like I’ve forgotten how to use them.
“Almost forty hours since the real heat hit.” Ben’s voice. Gentle.
Forty hours. It feels like minutes. It feels like forever.
Gentle hands clean me with a warm cloth. Change the blankets beneath me without ever making me move far from the nest. They work around each other seamlessly, like they’ve done this before. Like they were made for this.
For me.
The thought should scare me. Instead, it settles into my bones and stays there.
Elijah is inside me.
I don’t remember how we got here. Just that one moment I was floating in post-orgasm haze, and the next his cock was sliding home, stretching me open around his thickness.
He doesn’t do dirty talk like the others. Just watches me, dark eyes intense, reading every flicker of expression on my face. His hands are steady on my hips, holding me still while he sets the pace.
It should be unnerving. Instead, it’s grounding. An anchor in the storm of sensation.
He fucks me slow and deliberate. Each thrust hitting deep, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. Building me up gradually, layer by layer. No rush. No urgency. Just relentless, patient pleasure.
I try to speed things up, rolling my hips, clenching around him. But he pins me down with a hand on my stomach, presses me into the mattress.
“Let me.” Two words. All I need.
I go limp. Let him take over completely. Surrender control in a way I never do, never have, never thought I could.
I’ve never felt so exposed. So free.
He reads my body like he’s memorized every response. Knows exactly when to speed up, when to slow down, when to grind deep and hold there while I shake apart. He brings me to the edge three times before finally letting me fall.
When I come, it’s a full-body experience. Every muscle clenching, every nerve firing. I think I scream, but the sound is lost somewhere outside my body. Everything is white noise and pleasure and the feeling of his knot swelling inside me, stretching me impossibly wide.
He comes silently. Just a sharp exhale and a tightening of his jaw as he spills into me. But I feel everything, the pulse of his release, the throb of his knot, the way his whole body shudders with restraint.
We stay locked together in silence. His thumb traces patterns on my hip. Circles and spirals, something that might be letters. I drift, not quite awake, not quite asleep, floating in the space between.
Eventually, his knot softens. He pulls out slowly, carefully. I whimper at the loss, at the emptiness returning already.
“Shh.” He pulls me against his chest. “Rest.”
I don’t argue.
Ben wakes me with his mouth.
I come to consciousness already on the edge, his tongue working my clit while two fingers thrust inside me. The pleasure is sharp and sudden, cutting through the fog of sleep like a knife.
“Ben.” His name comes out garbled, slurred. My hand finds his hair, gripping tight.
He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my oversensitive body. His fingers curl, finding that spot, and I’m coming before I’m fully awake. The orgasm crashes through me, sudden and sharp, pulling a broken cry from my throat.
He doesn’t stop. Works me through it and keeps going, adding a third finger, stretching me wider. The overstimulation borders on pain but I don’t care. Can’t care. Just need more, always more.
“One more,” he murmurs against my pussy, his breath hot on my sensitive flesh. “Come on my tongue one more time, then I’ll give you my cock.”
I shake my head. Can’t. Too much. But my body has other ideas, already climbing again under his relentless attention.
“You can.” He sucks my clit into his mouth, fucks me faster with his fingers. “This greedy pussy can take it. Come on, Tessa. Soak my face. I want to taste it.”
I come so hard I forget to breathe. White-hot pleasure, my whole body convulsing, slick gushing out around his fingers. He groans and drinks it down like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
Then he’s climbing up my body, positioning himself, pushing inside in one smooth thrust.
The stretch is everything I needed. I’m so sensitive that every inch of his cock feels like a revelation, like being taken apart and put back together. He bottoms out and stills, giving me a moment to adjust, and I can feel him throbbing inside me.
“Okay?” he checks, voice strained with the effort of holding still.
I nod. More than okay. Perfect.
He starts to move. Slow at first, but building quickly. He knows I’m already close again, knows my body is primed and ready to shatter. He doesn’t make me wait.
“Gonna knot this pussy,” he says, speeding up. “Gonna fill you up until you’re dripping with my come. You want that? Want me to breed this needy little hole?”
I nod frantically. Want it more than I can say.
“Say it.” His voice is rough, demanding. “Tell me what you want.”
“Want it.” My voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. “Want your knot. Please, Ben. Fill me up.”
“Good girl.”
He speeds up, chasing his own release now. His knot is swelling, stretching me wider with each thrust, catching at my rim. The pressure builds and builds until it’s almost unbearable, until I’m right on the edge of too much.
Then it pops inside me, and we both cry out.
I feel him coming. Feel every pulse and throb as he fills me with his release. My own orgasm hits like an aftershock, weaker but still devastating, rolling through me in waves. We shake together, locked tight, riding it out.
Ours. This is ours.
“Fuck,” he breathes when it’s finally over, collapsing onto his forearms above me. “Tessa. God.”
I don’t have words. Just press my face into his neck and breathe him in. Leather and musk and something that’s just Ben. Home.
The waves are getting further apart.
I notice it dimly, somewhere in the back of my heat-fogged brain. More time between the desperate awakenings. Longer stretches of actual sleep instead of just passing out.
“You’re doing so good.” Milo’s voice, soft in the darkness. “Almost over, sweetheart.”
Almost over.
The words should bring relief. Instead, my chest tightens. Fear, maybe. Or sadness.
What happens when this ends? What happens when I can think clearly again?
But I can’t hold onto the thought. Another wave is building, softer than before but still insistent. I reach for whoever’s closest, and hands are there immediately.
Always there. Always ready.
I lose count of how many times they knot me.
It all blurs together. Ben and his dirty talk, making me laugh even when I’m desperate. Milo and his smooth control, always knowing exactly what I need. Elijah and his quiet intensity, saying more with a look than most people do with words.
They rotate without discussion. Whoever has the most energy, whoever I reach for, whoever’s closest when the need hits. There’s no jealousy, no competition. Just three alphas working together to take care of their omega.
Their omega.
The thought surfaces and I hold onto it. Mine. They’re mine. And I’m theirs.
Another wave builds. I reach out, and Elijah is there.