34. Sterling #2
I feel Cass reach down to my clit and with expert fingers.
He strums a rhythm that has me climaxing so hard my body tries to collapse onto the nest. Then Quinn’s hands are at my hips, steadying me, holding me up as he slams into me.
Using his hands to pull my hips into every thrust. I need it, this ache that needs his knot is unrelenting.
He drives into me again and again, and I take every last inch of it. When I feel his knot start to swell, I beg for it—and with one powerful thrust, he breaches my walls and seats his knot so deeply it almost hurts.
The moment it locks into me, a long, keening sound I’ve never made before rips from my throat. And the raw, male sound Quinn makes in response is what finally undoes me.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, consumed by each other—knot after knot, orgasm after orgasm—until I finally collapse into the nest. Cass and Quinn never leave, always wrapped around me, always touching.
It must be hours since we started, and still the need keeps rising, crashing over us like the tide.
Finally, after yet another knot, Quinn groans as he locks inside me, holding me steady through another endless wave of release.
I drift off to sleep with Quinn still locked deep inside me, and Cass warm and solid at my back.
—
I wake hours later. Maybe days. Honestly, I can’t tell. The haze of my heat is still messing with my sense of time. I think it’s night—everything outside the windows is dark—but beyond that, I’ve got nothing.
My body feels sore, sticky, satisfied…but I’m not sure for how long. I think I’m nearing the end. The fire in my core isn’t gone, but it’s not roaring anymore. Just embers, smoldering low.
For now, though, I’m loving the lucidity. The quiet between the waves. The chance to breathe again.
I stretch slowly and realize I’m lying on top of Quinn. He’s deep in sleep, his face soft, peaceful—and God, he looks so tired I hate the thought of waking him.
So instead I sink back down, nuzzling into his chest, and close my eyes, thinking maybe I’ll sleep more.
The nest is warm and full of tangled limbs, it’s easy to drift in and out of consciousness. Cass is asleep behind me, his arm thrown over my hip. Quinn is naked underneath me, his head laying on the pillows, his soft snores filling the air.
I’m so warm and content. I can feel the edges of my heat start to simmer again as I wake more fully. My eyes stay closed, my body still limp, soaking in the momentary reprieve.
Until I hear the low scrape of a chair leg against the floor.
My eyes snap open.
JP.
He’s settling into a chair he’s pulled to the farthest side of my room—about as far from the nest as he can get. But his eyes are on me. Burning. I can feel the tightly coiled desire rolling off him from where I’m draped over Quinn.
He looks like a tornado shoved into a bottle. And I can only guess what it’s costing him to stay in that chair.
“Hey,” I whisper, my voice rough and small.
He stares at me for a long beat. “You okay?”
I nod.
“Drink,” he says roughly, jerking his chin toward the bottle of water within arm’s reach.
I shift, stretching to grab it, but the movement makes my oversensitive core brush against Quinn’s thigh—and I’ve barely brought the water to my lips when another wave of heat crashes through me.
My heart stutters in my chest.
JP’s eyes flare wide, and he starts to rise.
But my Omega screams at me not to let him leave.
“Don’t,” I whisper. My voice is trembling, heat already building low in my belly again, the timing cruel. “Don’t leave.”
His jaw clenches hard. “Sterling…”
“Please.”
The word breaks in my throat—and something in his eyes breaks with it.
He exhales sharply and sits back down.
Still across the room.
But he stays.
And as another cramp rolls through me, slick pooling between my thighs again, I don’t look away.
And he doesn’t either.
I watch as his hand drifts to where I can see the thick length straining against his jeans, and I gasp when he goes to the button at the top. Then—I’m grinding against Quinn before I even realize what I’m doing, chasing the slick, hot ache building in my veins.
JP pulls his stiff cock from his jeans and begins to stroke himself.
I watch, riveted, as he sinks lower in the chair to get better access. The motion makes his cock jut upward and the sight makes my mouth water. He’s as beautiful and dangerous as the rest of him—thick and long with a massive tip I know I’ll feel for days when we finally fuck.
Now I’ve moved fully on top of Quinn, and I can feel him harden beneath me.
Cass shifts behind me, dragging a hand up my spine, clearly waking with my sounds and the fresh flood of need in the room.
“Again, little songbird?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and hunger.
I nod, whimpering, rubbing against Quinn’s cock until he groans and lifts my hips, pushing inside with a sigh like I’m salvation.
I ride him slow, my body already trembling, so turned on by JP.
When I finally arch into Quinn, throwing my head back as he hits the spot that makes me see stars, I hear JP groan—deep and rough, that whiskey voice pure sex—and I’m coming.
“Fuck, beautiful girl,” Quinn pants. “You like when JP watches you, don’t you?”
The only answer he gets is the desperate clenching of my inner walls around his cock.
Then Cass is behind me, pressing kisses to my back, my shoulders.
“Of course she does,” he growls. “She was made for us.”
“Weren’t you, songbird? Want to take us both while you watch JP fucking come—wishing it was his knot locked inside you?”
And I know what’s coming.
I tense, involuntarily, a mix of nervousness and raw desire coiling through me. I know they wouldn’t hurt me. I trust them. But this…this is new.
“Yes, please, Cass.” I want him to know I want this—all of it.
His fingers slide between my cheeks, dipping down to gather slick from where Quinn is still slowly grinding into me. Then I feel him there, gently coating me with it, coaxing the tight ring of muscle to relax, soft whispers and slow touches easing the tension.
He keeps up the gentle teasing until I’m gasping, writhing, begging for more.
Until I’m ready.
I didn’t think I’d ever feel anything better than being knotted—but I was wrong.
When Cass finally pushes in—stretching me from behind as Quinn fills me from beneath—I cry out, the pleasure a sharp, perfect pressure that splits me open in the most delicious way.
I glance over.
JP is still in the chair.
His hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking faster now, his gaze locked on mine like he feels every thrust in his own body.
His eyes are wild. Desperate. His fist pumps that velvety length in time with Cass and Quinn’s rhythm, and the effect is devastating.
It feels like I have all three of them—inside me, around me, worshiping me.
I come apart, screaming, arching into Cass as Quinn growls low in his chest and thrusts deeper—his knot breaching me with a wet snap and locking into place. I feel him swell, his cock pulsing inside me as he releases with a feral sound.
Cass follows almost immediately, his knot locking from behind, the sensation different, thicker, fuller. My body stretches to take it, burning in the most exquisite way.
I shatter. Again.
Drenched in pleasure, I tremble between them, my entire body wracked with release—and still, my eyes never leave JP’s.
He groans—deep, raw—as he fists himself faster, the muscles of his abdomen tightening, the tip of his cock flushed and leaking as he finally finds his own release.
God the sound he makes—it has me wishing it was his knot I was locked around.
I reach out to him, pleading with my eyes, needing him with me. But he just stares—this long look that’s so full of feeling it steals the breath from my lungs. His eyes are swimming in want, in affection…and fear.
But he doesn’t join me.
Not yet.
Still, my Omega knows JP is mine, and one way or another, he’ll change his mind.