37. Declan
37
DECLAN
“We need to hear you say you quit,” I murmur.
Synthia’s eyes meet mine, fear and longing swimming in their depths. Her scent has intensified, rich with need, making my control fray at the edges. The rut is clawing at me, demanding I claim what’s mine, but I force myself to remain still, waiting for her answer.
“I...” she hesitates, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I quit.”
The simple words hang in the air between us, heavy with significance. I can see the moment the reality of her decision sinks in—the slight widening of her eyes, the sharp intake of breath. For two years, she’s been surviving, clinging to a profession that kept her afloat while she paid for her daughter to be returned to her. Now, she’s letting go of that lifeline, trusting us to catch her.
“Good girl,” I murmur, and her pupils dilate further at the praise.
Tarquin moves first, kneeling at the edge of the nest. “Can we join you?”
She nods, her dark hair spilling across the pillows. “Yes.”
Her consent breaks the last thread of our collective restraint. Tristan is beside her in an instant, his hands gentle as he helps her out of Tarquin’s jacket. I watch as he presses his lips to her neck, inhaling deeply, and she arches into him with a soft moan. Tarquin moves to her other side, holding her reverently as if she might break in his grasp.
I, on the other hand, have no such willpower. I drop and spread her legs, burying my face against her pussy and inhaling that sweet scent of her slick.
“Declan!” she gasps, her body going rigid with surprise before melting against me. Her slick coats my lips, sweet and addictive, and I growl against her clit. My hands grip her thighs, spreading her wider as I devour her like a man starved.
Tarquin watches with darkened eyes, his hand sliding up to cup her breast through the thin cotton of her pyjama top. “You’re ours now,” he murmurs against her ear. “No more clients. No more strangers touching what belongs to us.”
She whimpers, caught between my mouth and Tarquin’s possessive touch.
“We’re going to take such good care of you,” Tristan promises, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the room.
Her thighs tremble against my hands as my tongue circles her clit. She tastes like heaven and sin combined, and I can’t get enough. The omega scent of her heat has driven me to the edge of madness, but I cling to enough control to make this good for her.
“I need—” she gasps, her hips rolling against my mouth. “Please, I need more.”
Sliding two fingers inside her, they penetrate her easily. She cries out as I add a third, then a fourth. I thrust gently, getting her used to the invasion before I curl my fingers into a fist.
She gasps and shudders as her pussy clutches the make-shift knot, throbbing around my hand.
“That’s it, sweet omega,” I murmur before flicking her clit and sucking it into my mouth. I twist my fist slowly, and she whimpers with need.
My movements are deliberate, measured as I work her through this first orgasm. The room fills with the scent of her pleasure, sweet and heady like honey wine. Tarquin and Tristan have stripped off completely now; there is just me, still half-clothed.
Synthia shatters beautifully, her back arching as she comes around my fist, slick gushing over my hand and wrist. I growl in satisfaction, keeping my hand still as her inner walls pulse and contract. The sight of her coming undone is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
When the last tremors subside, I slowly withdraw my hand, earning a mewl from her. Her eyes are glazed, cheeks flushed with heat and pleasure, but I can see the need still burning there.
Tristan helps her out of her soaked pyjamas while I stand to strip off my remaining clothes, my cock so hard it’s painful. The sight of her naked body, glistening with sweat and slick, nearly brings me to my knees.
Her body trembles as another wave of heat crashes through her.
Tarquin positions himself against the pillows, drawing Synthia to straddle him. His cock slides against her slick folds, and she whimpers, grinding down against him.
He grips her hips, holding her still while he thrusts deep inside her with a low growl.
I can’t resist the urge to slip in behind her, pushing her forward so I have access to her. She winces, but I murmur, “I won’t hurt you.” She accepts that and relaxes, the heat now completely taking over her senses. She is vulnerable and pliable. This is what alphas pay big money for, and it makes me sick. I hesitate as the dark thoughts crash over me, but when Synthia whimpers, it draws me back. I guide my cock to her pussy and push it inside her alongside Tarquin.
Synthia gasps, her body stretching to accommodate both of us. Her back arches as she adjusts to the fullness, her breath coming in short pants.
“Too much?” I whisper against her neck, ready to withdraw if needed.
“No,” she moans, her head falling back against my shoulder. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
Tristan kneels next to her and leans forward, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss that swallows her cries as Tarquin and I rail her together.
Her body trembles between us, her slick gushing out as we please her. She is impossibly tight around our cocks. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating, driving my rut to new heights. My hands grip her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh as I fight for control.
“So perfect,” Tarquin growls, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. “Our perfect omega.”
Tristan breaks their kiss, moving lower to take one of her nipples into his mouth. The stimulation from all sides makes her come again with a broken cry, her pussy clenching around us with incredible strength.
The intensity of her orgasm triggers mine, and with a low growl, I unload as my knot swells. Tarquin follows immediately after, his knot expanding alongside mine, locking us both inside her.
Synthia screams as we stretch her to her limit, but she quivers again, her orgasm crashing over her as we give her what she needs. She lets out a loud purr that vibrates out of her throat and through her whole body.
The sensation is overwhelming—her purr vibrates through our connected bodies, making my knot pulse inside her. I can feel Tarquin’s release alongside mine, our combined seed filling her so completely that it leaks out around our knots despite how tightly we’re locked together.
Synthia collapses forward onto Tarquin’s chest, trembling and gasping. Her skin is feverish against mine, the omega heat burning through her.
Tarquin’s hands stroke up and down her sides, his expression a mixture of possessiveness and awe.
We stay locked together, our bodies cooling slightly as we wait for our knots to subside. I rest my forehead against her back, inhaling her scent that’s now intermingled with ours. The claiming has begun—not complete without a mating bite, but the scent bonding is happening already.
When our knots finally recede enough, I carefully withdraw, followed by Tarquin. Synthia whimpers at the emptiness, her heat far from satisfied. I help her turn over as Tarquin shifts from beneath her.
“Let me help ease your heat,” Tristan murmurs.
Synthia reaches for him eagerly, her body still seeking relief despite the multiple knots we’ve already given her. Heat is relentless that way—a biological imperative that won’t be denied until fully satisfied.
Tristan settles between her thighs, his cock sliding easily into her well-lubed pussy. She moans, wrapping her legs around his waist to draw him deeper.
I watch them, feeling no jealousy, only a bone-deep satisfaction. This is how it should be—all of us sharing our omega, caring for her, protecting her. We’ve found something rare and precious in Synthia Fuller, something none of us were seeking and yet she blew into our lives like a fucking tornado and ripped our carefully constructed walls apart.
I wonder if I will ever find absolution in her. I wonder if I even want to. My whole being is centred around my childhood, my abuse. Will she still want me if I change somehow? Become less haunted, less cold? I don’t know if it’s even possible after all of this time, but something is niggling at me to try. For her. For us.
After we’ve found that fucker and ripped him into tiny pieces that no one will ever find.
That thought makes me smile, and I realise that I can’t change. Not completely, anyway.