Chapter 22
22
LILY
T he morning sun streams through the windows. With Hunter and James gone to retrieve the map from Travis, the cabin feels oddly quiet. Thor has fallen asleep by the back door where Hunter went, most likely waiting for their return, leaving Archer and me truly alone.
I lean against the wall in the entryway, watching as Archer kneels by the front door, tools spread around him as he replaces the lock damaged during Travis’s break-in. There’s something undeniably attractive about watching him work—the focused concentration on his muscles, the movements of his hands, the occasional grunt.
My heat hasn’t fully subsided yet. I feel it lingering with fire that flares whenever I’m near any of the Alphas. With Archer, it’s particularly potent—perhaps because we’ve had fewer moments alone together than I’ve had with the others.
He tightens the final screw, tests the lock, shuts the door, and sits back on his heels with a satisfied smile. “That should do it. Not quite as secure as Hunter would make it, but it’ll hold until we buy new locks.”
“You look good doing that,” I say before I can stop myself. “Being a handyman suits you.”
He turns to me, eyebrow quirked in amusement. “You okay there, gorgeous? You’re looking a little flushed.”
I push away from the wall, drawn to him by something I can’t quite control. “You should do that with no shirt on next time. For aesthetic purposes.”
He chuckles, setting his tools down on the side table. “Aesthetic purposes, huh?” His amber eyes darken slightly as he studies me. “You’re still feeling your heat, aren’t you?”
“A bit,” I admit, not bothering to deny what must be obvious to his Alpha senses. “It’s... lingering.”
With deliberate slowness that makes my heart race, Archer reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head. Like Hunter’s rugged bulk or James’s solid strength, Archer’s physique is just as big—all muscle and smooth planes.
“Better?” he whispers.
I fan myself dramatically. “Much. Though now it’s even warmer in here.”
He laughs, throwing his head back. “I’m affecting the cabin’s climate now? I’ll add that to my list of talents.”
“What else is on that list?” I ask, taking a step closer.
“Oh, lots of things,” he replies with a deliberately casual shrug that makes his muscles ripple enticingly. “Reading ancient texts, identifying first editions by smell alone, making women in bakeries wet...”
“Wow, you went there,” I protest automatically.
“Sure did.” He closes the distance between us with a few long strides.
His hand is on my shoulder and curling up my neck, holding me there, tilting my head back with his thumb to meet his gaze.
The touch covers me in goosebumps. “Archer,” I whisper, wanting everything from him but unsure how to ask for it.
“Yes, Lily?” His voice is teasing, but his eyes are serious, searching mine for permission.
“I want...” I trail off, suddenly shy, despite the urgency thrumming through me.
“What do you want?” he prompts gently. “Tell me.”
“You,” I say simply. “All of you.”
Something ripples behind his eyes—hunger, possessiveness, desire—before he carefully controls his expression. “You have me,” he states, still not touching me beyond my neck. “But I think we should be clear about what’s happening here. Is this the heat talking? Or is this you wanting me?”
The question catches me off guard. It’s thoughtful and considerate in a way that belies his playful exterior.
“Both,” I admit. “The heat makes everything... more. But it doesn’t create feelings that weren’t already there.” I glance up at him, holding his gaze. “I want you, Archer. Heat or no heat.”
That’s all the permission he needs. His mouth claims mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly blazes into something more urgent. His hands frame my face, holding me as if I’m something precious, even as his lips demand a response I’m eager to give.
I press against him, reveling in the warmth of his bare skin beneath my palms. He tastes like the coffee he had at breakfast and something uniquely Archer—old books, bergamot, and desire.
“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” he murmurs against my lips. “Especially considering I’ve sacrificed my shirt for aesthetic purposes.”
I laugh, tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants. “I agree. Very unfair.”
His hands catch mine, stilling them with gentle pressure. “Not so fast. I think I want something in exchange first.”
“I’m fresh out of money,” I quip, gesturing to the long t-shirt I’m wearing with nothing underneath—one of James’, borrowed after waking up in his bed.
“Oh, I can think of other forms of payment,” he purrs, and my knees weaken. “Like hearing you say exactly what you want me to do to you.”
Heat floods my face, but not from embarrassment. There’s something incredibly arousing about his request—about being asked to voice my desires out loud.
“I want you to kiss me again,” I begin, finding courage in the darkening of his eyes. “And then I want you to touch me. Everywhere.”
“Specific,” he teases, but his breathing has quickened. “I like it.”
He steps closer, backing me against the wall. His body is a warm presence against mine, close enough to feel but not yet pinning me. His lips find my neck, a soft brush of heat against my skin, and I gasp as he trails kisses along my throat, each one searing and deliberate.
“More,” I whisper, my voice shaky and breathless.
His chuckle is low and dark. “Greedy.”
His teeth graze my skin, and my back arches into him, desperate for more. Sliding my hands into the waistband of his sweatpants, I curl my fingers around the fabric, tugging, but before I can get far, his hand catches my wrist.
“Not yet,” he growls, and before I can protest, he spins me to face the wall, my palms flattening against the cool surface. His body presses against mine from behind, solid muscle pinning me in place. His breath is warm against my ear.
“You want me rough or tender, sweet?” His voice is low, gravelly, and full of wicked intent.
My pulse stutters. “Rough,” I rasp. “Oh, rough for sure.”
A sharp breath escapes him, and his hand fists the back of my oversized shirt—the only thing I’m wearing. With one swift motion, he drags it up, baring my thighs, my hips, my back. His palm slides up my leg, fingers splaying wide over my skin as if he’s savoring every inch.
“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, his hand kneading my hip. “Bet you knew exactly what you were doing, walking around in nothing but this shirt.”
“Maybe,” I murmur, arching into his touch.
His fingers trail upward, teasing, tracing along the curve of my waist before gripping me tighter, dragging my hips back against him. I feel him—hot, hard, and relentless—grinding against me through the thin fabric of his sweatpants.
“Feel that?” His voice is a low snarl in my ear. “That’s what you’re craving.”
I gasp, my head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. “Please.”
He rolls his hips again, and a sharp, needy sound escapes me.
His hand slides between my thighs, his fingers spreading me wider.
“You’re already soaking for me,” he growls. “Tell me you need it. Say it.”
“Fuck, Archer, you’re going to kill me,” I pant, my voice barely a whisper. “I need you.”
His fingers find my pussy, pushing my lips apart, and my whole body jolts as he slides two thick fingers inside me. A cry rips from my throat, my legs threatening to buckle, but he presses closer, holding me steady with his other arm wrapped tight around my waist.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “Take it, angel.” His finger pumps inside me, slow and deep, teasing me until I’m gasping, my body burning up from the inside out.
“More,” I whimper, pressing my hips back against him, desperate for more friction, more pressure—more him.
His teeth catch my earlobe, his voice a dark promise. “You’re not ready for more.”
“I am,” I gasp. “I can take it.”
His growl vibrates against my skin, and suddenly, his hand leaves me. Before I can protest, he shoves his sweatpants down, the warmth of him pressing hard and thick against me. My breath catches, and the ache inside me sharpens to a desperate, burning need because he might just be thicker than James and Hunter. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Say my name again.”
“Archer,” I moan. “Please.”
With a low curse, he presses the tip of his cock to my entrance, and I’m already rocking my hips to accept him.
“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he growls, his voice rough with hunger. “You think I didn’t notice you watching me? Biting your lip every time I got close? Acting all innocent when you knew damn well what you were doing.” His hand drags down my side, fingers skimming the curve of my waist before curling possessively around my hip. “You want this as badly as I do, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, pressing back against him. “Please... I need you.”
“That’s not good enough,” he mutters, his breath hot against my ear. “I want to hear exactly how bad you need it.”
“I need you to fuck me,” I rasp, my voice breaking. “I need you to fill me... make me forget everything except you.”
His low growl rumbles against my skin, and his fingers tighten on my hips. “Oh, angel, you’re about to get exactly what you’re begging for.” He teases me with the head of his cock, sliding it just inside before pulling back. “You feel that?” His voice is a dark rasp. “That’s just a taste. And you’re not getting more until you beg me properly.”
“I’m begging,” I moan, twisting in his grip, desperate for more. “I’ll do whatever you want… just give it to me.”
“Whatever I want?” His voice is pure sin. “Careful what you promise, angel. I’m not stopping until you’re a trembling mess on this wall.”
Then he shoves into me hard and deep. My head drops forward against the wall, a strangled cry escaping my lips as he fills me completely, stretching me in a way that leaves me breathless. He doesn’t give me time to adjust—gripping my hips, he starts to move, fast and rough, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure spiraling through me.
“That’s it,” he groans, voice gravelly. “Taking me so well... you’re so fucking tight. You love this, don’t you?” His tongue drags down my spine. “Love me fucking you like this—fast, rough... owning every inch of you.”
“God, yes,” I cry out, nails clawing at the wall. “I love it... don’t stop.”
“Oh, I’m your God already. I’m going to ruin your pussy, so you never forget my cock.”
I moan, my body helpless beneath his, my nerves burning under the intensity of him. He’s everywhere—his breath against my ear, his body pressed tight against my back, his hand sliding down my stomach.
“You’re shaking already,” he taunts, his fingers teasing my clit, pinching it. “Poor thing... you’re gonna break for me, aren’t you?”
I’m gasping, whimpering, my body on fire, too full of him and too lost to think. “Please,” I whisper, my voice a desperate plea.
“Please, what?” His fingers press harder, rubbing slow circles that leave me trembling. “Come on, sweetie... tell me what you need.”
“I need to come,” I choke out. “To scream out.”
“That’s better,” he growls. “Now come for me. Let me feel you lose it.”
His fingers work me mercilessly, his cock driving deeper, each thrust winding me tighter until I can’t take it anymore. My body locks up, pleasure crashing over me so fiercely, I forget how to breathe. I sob his name as I shatter against him, my nails scraping uselessly at the wall as wave after wave rolls through me.
But he’s not finished. He holds me through it, still thrusting, still grinding against me, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure until I’m wrung out and gasping.
“That’s my girl,” he rasps, voice rougher now. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
He grabs my wrists, dragging them back behind me, pinning them there as he fucks me harder, faster, as though he’s determined to leave me wrecked and ruined. My body’s still trembling, oversensitive and aching, yet I crave more—more of him, more of this fire consuming me.
“You love this,” he groans, his pace brutal now. “Getting fucked like this... knowing you’re mine to break.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes... yes...”
He slams into me one last time, his body going rigid as he shudders, a low, guttural growl spilling from his throat as he spills deep inside me. His grip on my wrists tightens briefly before he loosens his hold, releasing me just enough to pull me back against his chest.
I’m boneless, trembling, my breath coming in sharp gasps as he lowers us both to the floor. He pulls me close, one arm wrapping tightly around my waist as his lips press against my hair.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, softer now. “You’re mine.”
I let my head fall against his chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat slowing beneath my cheek. My body still hums with the aftershocks, the ache a reminder of just how hard he claimed me. I’ve never felt so spent... so utterly unraveled.
Yet, as I lay there, wrapped in his arms, his cock deep inside me, and I know he hasn’t knotted yet.
“I told you I could take it,” I murmur, my voice hoarse but teasing.
I’m still trying to catch my breath when his arm tightens around me, and suddenly, I’m lifted off the floor. My gasp barely escapes before he’s carrying me across the room. His cock is still buried inside me, each step making me feel every inch of him as he moves. My back presses flush to his chest, and my thighs tremble as he lowers me to my knees beside the couch.
“Hands on the cushions,” he orders darkly, his voice rougher now. “Don’t move unless I tell you.”
I obey, my fingers gripping the fabric tightly. His palm drifts down my spine, slow and lingering.
“I want you bent over... head down. I want you to feel me everywhere.”
I barely have time to process before his hand flattens between my shoulder blades and presses me forward. My cheek hits the cushion, my body stretched out, rear in the air, legs spread, and completely at his mercy. The next thing I know, his palm strikes my ass—a sharp slap that makes me yelp, heat rushing through my body.
“You like that?” Archer growls, his fingers digging into my hips. “You like it when I mark you?” He grips me tighter and drags me back against him, his cock grinding deep. “You’re still dripping down your thighs, angel. Such a messy little thing... I haven’t even knotted you yet, and you’re already wrecked.”
I gasp, biting my lip, the burn of his slap blending with the pleasure surging through me. “I like it,” I pant. “Please... more.”
“You’re such a greedy thing,” he growls, slapping me again, harder this time. “That’s what I love about you... always begging for more.” He thrusts deeper, rougher now, his fingers sliding up my spine before curling in my hair. “I’m going to knot you so deep, you’ll feel me for days.” He yanks my head back enough that his mouth hovers by my ear. “Tell me you want it.”
I cry out at how deep he goes into me, how fast he thrusts.
“Yeah?” He grins against my skin. “Thought so.”
His hand slides down to my hip, holding me still as he pounds into me, fast and brutal. The force of it leaves me breathless, my moans muffled against the cushion. Pressure coils inside me, winding so tightly, I can barely stand it.
“You’re mine,” Archer snarls.
“Archer...” I choke out, my body burning, my muscles straining. “I’m…”
“Come for me,” he demands, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me while I knot you.”
I scream out, my body bursting from the inside out, pleasure ripping through me in wild pulses as my pussy grips his cock. He groans, low and guttural, his erection swelling, thickening, pushing against my inner walls. He’s holding me still as his heat floods me.
“That’s it,” he growls, his hand smoothing down my spine in a rare moment of tenderness. “Such a good girl... all mine.”
I’m still bellowing my pleasure, my legs shaking, lust tearing through me like wildfire.
He follows in moments.
We stay joined, catching our breath, hearts gradually slowing their frantic pace. For a moment, we stay like that, both of us breathless, skin slick with sweat, his chest rising and falling against my back. Then, slowly, he eases me back up to him, and his arms wrap around me.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs in my ear, his face buried in my neck. “You can rest now.” He carries me and takes a seat on the couch, me in his lap, him buried inside me.
I let my head fall against his shoulder, my body still buzzing, my breaths slowing as his scent inhales me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel restless. I don’t feel uncertain.
I just feel… right. As if this is exactly where I’m meant to be.