Chapter 62 Xander, Asher, Nitro, Fallon, & Kane #4
“How are you staying so in control?” she asked suddenly, her voice breathy, the words nearly shattering before she could form them.
I smiled down at her, not breaking my rhythm. “Laser focus on my goal.”
“And your goal is?” Her question ended on a gasp as I adjusted my thrust angle slightly and shifted my finger to the side of my cock. I kept curling my finger inside her, kept plunging without pause.
“Making you come for me,” I replied simply. “Making you come for me so hard it takes your breath away.”
I punctuated each statement with a precisely aimed thrust that drew increasingly desperate sounds from her throat.
My brothers never stopped touching her. They never took a break.
Fallon bent to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, swallowing the sounds of her pleasure.
Kane's hand slipped between our bodies, his fingers finding the swollen bud of her clit easily.
Asher and Xander whispered words of encouragement and praise against her skin as they kissed and nipped at her shoulders, her breasts, her neck.
This was overwhelming—the sights, the sounds, the taste of her slick still mingling with my saliva.
I redoubled my focus, channeling the energy into maintaining the perfect rhythm, the perfect angle, the perfect pressure. Each thrust was a blade sliding home, each withdrawal a tease promising more to come.
I pulled my finger out of her with a quick motion that made her arch her back.
Lucy's responses grew more frantic beneath me, her ass rising off the bed, her arms pushing into the mattress so she could meet me halfway, ramming us together. Over and over and fucking over.
Her inner muscles tightened around me in rhythmic pulses, her breath coming in shorter, more desperate gasps. She was close—I could feel it in the tension of her body, see it in the flush spreading even further down her body, and hear it in the higher pitch of her moans.
“Come, Lucy,” I commanded, driving into her with increased precision rather than increased force. “Come so hard it hurts.”
Her release was an image I’ll never forget.
Not in a hundred fucking lifetimes. Her body went rigid while her inner muscles fluttered wildly around me; her mouth opened in a silent scream before a low, keening moan escaped her lips; her nails dug into my shoulders while her legs fell open in complete surrender.
The controlled chaos of her climax pulled me over the edge with her, my own release hitting with the precision of a perfectly landed stunt.
This was better than any perfect blade throw.
And any target expertly ruined by the point of a knife.
I thrust deep one final time, feeling the hot pulse of my release within her.
My cock swelled, locking into her warmth.
The pleasure was exquisite, sharp-edged and precise, radiating outward from where our bodies joined.
I felt the connection between us strengthen with each throb, the bond taking root in something deeper than physical gratification.
This was the damn bullseye I’d never hit before.
The one I’d been desperate to conquer.
Waves of pleasure still coursing through me, I regretted pulling from her body when my knot released.
I stayed between her legs. Lucy stared at me, her gaze still heated despite the fatigue evident in the slight droop of her eyelids.
She knew what came next—the completion of our bond. No one had to tell her now.
I extended my arm forward, offering my wrist where the pulse beat strong beneath tanned skin.
Her fingers closed around my forearm, holding me steady as she brought my wrist to her mouth.
I had to lean over her, keeping myself hoisted with my other arm so I didn’t crush her.
Her eyes never left mine as she clamped down, her teeth slicing through skin as well as any blade could.
Now I’d have her teeth marks next to the years’ of cutting.
I’d have a new scar to ground me, to keep me from doing stupid shit when I felt hollow inside.
The sensation that followed sent electricity racing through my veins, pleasure sharp and bright.
The bond slid into place with the satisfying swish of a blade fitting into a sheath made perfectly to its size and shape.
This was home. Her body was my sanctuary.
I could feel Lucy inside of me. She was a warm, soft edge that complemented the sharpness of my brothers' bonds.
"Three down," I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead. "Still with us, Lucy-Loo?"
Her smile was tired but determined. "Always."
I pressed a kiss to her temple before yielding my place to Fallon, who approached with graceful intensity.
That’s how it always was with him. I envied him that sometimes.
But it wasn’t me. I wasn’t put together even when shit got hard.
I came undone, I sliced razor edges down delicate skin. He’d never do something like that.
After crawling to the top of the bed, taking what had recently been Fallon’s place, I sat up against the headboard for an uninhibited view.
I may not be like my calmer brother, but I found myself hovering at the borders of peace.
My fingers didn’t itch for a knife.
My mind didn’t drift toward the idea of wounding myself to feel alive.
In wonder, my eyes found Lucy’s face, her attention locked on Fallon.
I never thought anything could replace the security I felt from my knives. Even if it did happen against odds, I’d never have expected their replacement to be an impossibly small creature with silver-white hair and acid eyes.
FALLON.
I approached Lucy the way you approach anything that you feel unworthy of—with reverent caution. My pack brothers had already diverged, giving me my moment in the sun.
I’d slept next to her in her bedroom, but this was different.
This was something I thought may never happen.
There were no covers separating us now, no worries I might take things too far.
And, yet, I still hesitated. When I’d been with women in the past, it had been mostly transactional.
I calculated every touch; I planned every moment.
I knew the precise moment they’d scream in ecstasy and I’d demand my due.
I controlled things. I took my pleasure from women paid to fulfill my fantasies.
Women cuffed to ceilings and floors. Women who didn’t turn away my requests, even when they might want to.
Here, I knew I’d bow down to Lucy. I’d let her take control.
I had no plan. I didn’t need one.
I wanted each caress, each kiss, each second to come as naturally as breathing. If she said stop, I’d stop. If she said go, I’d go. If she said to ride my bike off a bridge, I’d rev the engine and say a prayer.
At the center of the large bed that had never been used before this claiming, Lucy looked angelic.
Her alabaster skin was pinked with pleasure; her pale hair was splayed like a crown around her head.
The evidence of my brothers’ touches marked her body—the slight redness at her hips where Xander's hands had gripped, the faint impressions of Asher's teeth along her collarbone, the precise pattern of fingertip bruises from Nitro's hungry touch. I’d left many of my own brands, one of which was hidden in her mouth.
The soft palate bruised by the repeated plunge of my cock.
Lucy thought the scar on her stomach made her lesser. The years of drugs, needles, isolation.
Rather than diminishing her beauty, the marks enhanced it, telling the story of a woman who’d survived. A woman who was thoroughly desired, thoroughly claimed. A woman who had three bonds already formed, with two more yet to forge.
The tapestry of her skin was a goddamn masterpiece. And I was about to add fresh strokes to its surface.
The idea was overwhelming.
It made my head feel hazy and my vision blur.
"Fallon," she whispered, her voice hoarse from cries of pleasure, my name a delicate thing on her lips. “Is something wrong?”
Our gazes collided, my vision focusing.
"Absolutely nothing," I assured her, settling between her thighs with slow, deliberate movements.
It was difficult to choose where to touch first, because every inch of her body called out to me.
Part of me wanted to flip her over. I wanted to see her ass in the air, curved and soft, her glistening womanhood presented to me in all its glory. Ready to accept every inch of me.
Start small. Start slow. I told myself.
I leaned back, tracing the top of her foot with my fingertips, traveling over her ankle and up her shin. Waves of need shot through me as I watched goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch.
"You're a miracle,” I told her, my voice pitched low, intimate.
Her eyes—those remarkable, spotted irises that had captivated me from the very first moment, long before I admitted that truth—met mine. Sleepy. Drained. Not ready to stop.
“I used to hate that word,” she said, voice breathy. “I like it when you say it though.”
“Our miracle,” I emphasized, a soft smile curving my lips.
“Prove it,” she challenged.
The pink had begun draining from her pale skin. Retreating up her chest, her neck, settling back to live only in her cheeks. I wanted to watch it flush down her body again.
I moved up her body eagerly, my hands skimming along her legs, her hips, and her waist with feather-light touches. Curving my hands around her hips, I squeezed firmly, then I moved my hands up and inward. Closer, closer to that divine place. The wet glory between her legs.
I didn't go straight for the prize. Instead, I played with already teased and sensitive nerve endings, building upon the foundation my brothers and I had already built. I wanted her entire body to buzz with sensations by the time I sank my cock into her slickness. I didn’t want a single inch of her glorious body to be neglected.