Chapter 21 Steele #2
I position myself between her legs. One hand under her good knee, the other at her hip, the angle adjusted.
She looks up at me, eyes dark and certain, and I don't ask if she's sure because she already told me and telling me cost her something and I will not make her pay twice.
The head of my cock parts her folds, slick easing the way in a hot, wet glide that drags a groan from my chest I do not try to stop.
She's tight, the perfect feel of my omega closing around me. I look her in the eyes as I push in, inch by inch, until I'm seated to the hilt and we are both holding our breath in the same stunned silence.
I pull out.
And thrust back in.
I’m fucking my omega. Remi Silver is mine. Not my brother’s.
I fuck her harder. She moans against Crew’s mouth.
We find a rhythm. Her hips rise to meet mine, her good leg wrapped around my waist, the other now supported on my forearm.
Each thrust drags a fresh wave of slick around my cock, the wet sound of it obscene and perfect.
Crew lies beside her, his hand in hers, his mouth at her temple, whispering things too low for me to catch. But I don't need to hear them.
When the knot begins to swell she feels it first.
"I've got you," I tell her, voice rougher than I have ever heard it, the control I have worn like armor for six years finally, irrevocably cracking.
"I know, knot me," she breathes, and the words are a prayer and a command and a surrender all at once.
I drive into her with everything I have, my cock sliding deeper.
She gasps. Then the sharp intake of breath turns into a low moan. Her hips buck against mine, meeting my thrusts with a rhythm that is all her own.
"Please!" she cries out.
One last thrust, and the knot slides inside her, the base inflating, sealing me in a hot, pulsing lock that steals the air from both our lungs.
The base of my cock thickens more inside her, stretching her further.
“God!” Her eyes widen, not with fear but because her omega is flaring bright.
I come inside her in thick, endless waves, filling her until the slick and come mix and leak around the seal of the knot in slow, warm trails down her thighs.
She makes a sound that isn’t a word as tears slip from the corners of her eyes, rolling down her temples into the pillow.
"Are you okay, omega?"
She nods.
I stay deep, rocking in the tiny space the knot allows. Her walls flutter around the swollen base, milking me in rhythmic pulses that drag out my release in long, shuddering waves.
"Come for me, Remi."
She comes again, a smaller orgasm rippling through her.
The knot pulses in time with my heartbeat, with hers, each throb pushing another small surge into her.
It holds us for at least thirty minutes, but time loses shape. I brace my weight on my forearms, careful not to shift her knee, and lower my mouth to her neck again, licking the bonding gland in lazy circles while her tears keep falling, silent and steady.
"I waited," she whispers between shaky breaths. "I waited so long, Steele."
The words slide under my ribs and lodge there.
I respond with a low rumble that vibrates through the knot and into her.
She clenches around me again, another smaller orgasm rippling through her while we're locked.
Crew's hand strokes her hair, his chest pressed to her side, and the three of us breathe together, scents so intertwined the room smells like nothing else on earth could ever exist again.
“I was there. I remember every laugh, every competition score, every late-night text you sent your brother that I read over his shoulder like a thief.”
“You did?”
“I did.” I kiss her tears, tasting salt and her perfume.
She responds by tightening around me again, drawing another helpless groan from my throat.
When the knot finally begins to soften, the release is gradual. A slow easing of pressure that lets me rock a little deeper one last time before I slip free.
Slick and come spill out of her in a warm rush, coating us both. She exhales like she has been holding her breath underwater for years.
I ease to the side, careful of her knee, and Crew moves into the space I leave with the same unspoken line change we have perfected on the ice.
She reaches for him with both hands, pulling him down, her mouth on his as he enters her in one smooth, patient glide. The sound they both make is low and shared.
Crew is slower than I am, deeper. He has the kind of patience that comes from knowing he does not have to prove anything.
He watches her face with every slow thrust, adjusting the angle when her breath catches, rolling his hips in long, deliberate strokes that make her back arch.
I settle behind her, legs bracketing her shoulders, easing her back until my chest meets her spine. Crew knows to keep moving.
My hand slides between them to rest just above where they join, feeling the slick heat of her stretched around him. My mouth finds her neck again, the bonding gland still sensitive and swollen from my earlier attention, and I lick it softly while Crew moves inside her.
His knot swells gradually and thick, a steady bloom that has her pressing her forehead to his chest and breathing through it with the same disciplined focus she uses on the ice before a difficult jump.
"Breathe," I murmur against her skin, and she does, steady inhales that match the pulse of his knot locking into place.
Her body trembles between us, and her scent has changed permanently, saturated with both of ours until the three notes are indistinguishable.
Crew rocks gently inside her, his hand cupping her breast, thumb brushing her nipple. She comes again around his knot, smaller this time, a rolling wave that leaves her limp and sighing between us.
I hold her and trace the line of her spine at her neck with my fingertips, mapping the small knots of tension between her shoulder blades.
Sated but still humming with the knowledge that this is only the beginning, that the promise to River is ash but the future stretching ahead of us is solid and real.
"Crew." His name is like a prayer on her lips, and I feel the echo of it in my own chest because we are pack, because she's ours.
When Crew's knot releases she exhales deeply, and the three of us ease down together on her next. Our bodies slick and spent, her knee carefully repositioned on the pillow Crew slides beneath her.
Her head drops on my chest. Crew's arm drapes across her waist, his hand finding mine on the far side, and we hold on in the low lamplight while her breathing evens out into sleep.
My gaze goes to the cashmere blanket still folded at the foot of the bed. My brother’s, and I know he'll want her too.
I'll deal with him tomorrow. Right now the only thing that matters is the feel of her between us, the scent of bourbon and chocolate and orange wrapped around all three of us.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Crew looks at me in the dark.
"River's going to kill us," he says.
"Yeah." She laughs.
I kiss her shoulder. "Worth it."