Chapter 31
Sierra
Iexpect one of two things when I lay down the gauntlet.
Either Reid jerks back to himself and retreats, taking off like the hounds of hell are on his heels. Or he grabs my hair, drags me in to him, and kisses me senseless.
He’s done both before. After arguments, we either burned it out of our systems in raw, reckless heat, or he disappeared and shut me out for days, leaving me aching and furious in equal measure.
But he does neither of those things now.
For a long moment, he just stands there, his breathing rough and uneven.
His eyes are fixed on me, and there’s something in them I’ve only ever read about—hunger stretched too thin, like a man who’s been starving for far too long and finally sees food within reach.
It’s almost unhinged, and yet when his hand finally lifts, it trembles slightly before settling against my cheek, gentle in complete contradiction to everything in his gaze.
“Sierra,” he whispers, the word dragged out of him.
“Yeah?” I answer, softer than I mean to.
His mouth opens like he’s searching for something else to say, something that matters more—but nothing comes. Instead, he repeats it, voice rougher now. “Sierra.”
“Yeah,” I say again, stepping closer. Close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him, close enough that if I leaned in even an inch, it would be over.
I don’t want to kiss him.
“That’s a lie,” I tell myself.
I do want to kiss him. I want to kiss him more than I want to breathe. But I don’t move first. I can’t. It has to be him. It has to be his choice, not something I pulled him into.
Because I’ve been here before, too. Been here… and had it thrown back at me.
The arguments. The accusations. The way he’d twist things around afterwards, saying we only ended up in bed because I’d pushed so hard, because he was drunk, because I caught him off guard in a moment of weakness.
I knew even then that those were all lies. Not even lies he believed—lies he needed. Something to protect himself from the truth.
From me.
This time, there must be none of that. No being pushed into anything. No alcohol. No moments of weakness. No excuses. Just him… and me.
If this happens, he owns it.
He owns me.
He steps closer, until his chest brushes against me, and the contact sends a sharp pulse through my over-sensitized body. My nipples tighten instantly, reacting spontaneously to his touch, even before my brain can catch up. My breath hitches, and I hate how much he notices.
I keep my eyes on his, even though I shouldn’t. There’s too much there. Too much I could read into them if I let myself.
But the moment his head dips forward, everything else falls away.
When our lips meet, it’s not explosive.
It’s worse.
It’s slow.
Soft.
Tentative.
The kind of kiss that asks instead of takes.
Heat unfurls through me anyway, sharp enough to steal the air from my lungs. I gasp against his mouth, and he pauses just long enough to feel it, to register it, before continuing.
This isn’t like before. Not frantic. Not desperate.
Different.
New.
Like he’s relearning me.
Or offering something clean where everything between us used to be tangled and messy and sharp.
My chest tightens at the realization, something fragile and dangerous blooming in the heat.
He’s not just kissing me.
He’s asking.
Asking if I want this version of him.
If I’ll take it.
His hand shifts, cupping my face more firmly now, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a kind of careful focus that makes my stomach twist.
Then his mouth opens slightly, and his tongue brushes mine.
The sensation hits low and immediate, sending a shiver straight through me.
I respond instinctively, opening for him, even though part of me is still hesitating—still afraid of getting it wrong, of breaking whatever fragile thing this is before it has a chance to become real.
But that fear starts to dissolve as he deepens the kiss.
Slowly at first.
Then with more certainty.
My body follows his lead, the tension unwinding as his tongue coaxes mine into a rhythm that feels almost too intimate for something so simple.
My pulse kicks harder.
Lower.
Between my legs, heat builds fast, insistent and impossible to ignore.
He pulls back for half a second—barely enough to breathe—then dives back in, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, fingers tightening just enough to guide me.
To hold me there.
I feel it. The shift.
The moment it stops being a question.
He’s not asking me anymore.
He’s claiming me.
And God help me, I want him to.
A tremor runs through me as his thumb brushes the hollow of my throat, his mouth growing more demanding, less patient. I clutch at his shoulders, grounding myself as my knees start to weaken, my body tipping closer into his whether I mean to or not.
My thoughts scatter.
All of them.
Except one.
Don’t stop.
Then—
A shift in the room.
Air moving.
Presence.
I feel it before I hear it.
Heavy boots.
The sound of breathing.
The subtle displacement of space as two more bodies come up behind me, close enough that heat presses in from both sides.
Luke to my right, close enough that his arm brushes mine.
Talon just behind my shoulder, his chest a solid presence at my back.
I should freeze.
I should pull away.
Instead, something hot and reckless flares inside me at the awareness of them. Of being seen. Of being wanted—not by one of them, but by all of them.
It doesn’t make me self-conscious.
It makes me burn.
Reid’s kiss turns hungrier, wetter, both of us losing whatever restraint we started with. His hand slides down my side, slipping beneath my shirt, his palm skimming over my stomach, leaving heat in its wake that spreads outward in slow, dangerous ripples.
My breath stutters into his mouth as his fingers drift lower, teasing the waistband of my pants, not quite crossing the line, making my entire body tense in anticipation.
God—
“Not yet.”
Luke’s voice cuts through everything.
I’m pulled back, turned before I can even process it, Reid’s hand slipping away as Luke steps fully into my space, his body replacing Reid’s.
Now I’m facing him.
Close.
Too close.
His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, storm-blue and intense, something feral sitting just beneath the surface. His chest rises and falls like he’s barely holding it together.
“My turn.”
There’s no time to think. No space in which to decide.
His mouth is on mine before I can respond.
And everything shifts again.
I don’t mind it.
In fact, I fucking love it.
He tastes of brandy and spice, and something heavier underneath—something raw and unfiltered that he’s been carrying around all day.
It pours into the kiss, and into the way his mouth moves on mine like he’s been holding back for far too long.
I clutch his hair, anchoring myself as I swallow his groan, my name on his lips breaking apart.
“Sierra.” His voice is thick with hunger and something dangerously close to pain. “Fuck, Sierra.”
“Luke… Luke,” I whisper back, barely getting his name out before he steals the sound of it from my mouth again.
His hands slide lower, firmer now, claiming more of me as they settle at my back. He squeezes my ass, dragging me forward, pressing me against the hard length of him.
His hips roll, the head of his cock grinding against my clit through the thin fabric.
A sharp cry tears out of me, caught and muffled by his mouth as he does it again, slower this time, deliberate, like he’s learning exactly how to undo me.
Heat spikes through me, fast and overwhelming.
Then—
Another touch.
Softer. Slower. More cautious, but every bit as intense.
Lips brush along my jaw, almost reverent.
Talon. I feel him there without looking, his quiet intensity pressing in, restraint barely holding.
His breath ghosts over my skin as he murmurs something low, almost like a prayer, his hand sliding up over my shirt, his fingers finding my nipple, closing gently around it.
The sensation hits too sharp, too sudden, and I jerk, a small protest slipping out before I can stop it.
“Easy,” Luke murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at me. His thumb drags across my lower lip where his mouth just was. “Just focus on us, okay? We’ve got you. You’re safe. We’ll make you feel so good, babe.”
Us.
The word lands deep, sending another wave of heat through me.
I nod, even though everything inside me is already spinning. I feel too much—too fast—too many sensations colliding at once.
And yet I don’t want any of it to slow down.
The taboo of it.
The fact that it’s them.
All three of them.
Men I shouldn’t want like this. Men I definitely shouldn’t be here with like this.
And still—I want it more.
“You can tell us to stop anytime,” Reid says behind me, his voice lower now, steadier, but threaded tight with tension. His hand returns to the waistband of my pants, pausing there, waiting. “Do you understand, Sierra?”
I nod again, breathless.
I understand.
I just don’t care.
There’s no version of this where I stop. Not now. Not when everything inside me feels like it’s waking up all at once.
Not when I’ve never felt anything like this before.
Reid’s hand slips inside my panties.
His fingers find me immediately.
“Oh my God,” I rasp, breaking away from Luke just long enough to drag in air that doesn’t seem to reach my lungs.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Reid groans near my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re already this turned on for us, aren’t you?”
I can’t answer.
Not because I don’t want to—because I physically can’t.
My thoughts scatter the second his fingers press against my clit, the pressure precise, devastating.
Then his mouth closes on my earlobe.
And everything else disappears.
Especially when Talon tightens his fingers around my nipple, the sharp bite of sensation followed immediately by warmth as my shirt is pushed up and his mouth replaces his hand.
A cry tears out of me, louder this time, my body arching helplessly into them.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, the words catching somewhere in my throat, my breath locking up entirely.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” Talon murmurs against my skin, his voice rougher now, less restrained. His hand cups my breast, steadying me as his tongue moves, deliberate, attentive, learning every reaction.
Reid slides a finger inside me.
The sensation is too much.
Too deep.
Too right.
“She just got wetter,” Reid mutters, almost to himself. “Feel that? She’s clenching around me already.”
“Fuck, baby,” Luke groans, reclaiming my mouth, his kiss harder now, less controlled, pulling everything together into one overwhelming, consuming moment.
I’m surrounded.
Everywhere.
Hands. Mouths. Heat.
There’s no space left to think.
Only to feel.
And it builds too fast—too intense—until it snaps.
I cry out against Luke’s mouth, my body shaking as I come, gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
“She just came,” Reid breathes, his voice rough, almost disbelieving.
“I have to taste it,” Talon says, the words torn out of him. “Please.”
The shift is quick.
Luke releases me just enough to guide me, Reid stepping back, and suddenly Talon is lifting me—strong, steady—carrying me to the bed.
I barely register the movement.
The world tilts.
Then I’m down, my legs pushed up, my body opened to him.
And then—
His mouth.
A scream rips out of me, loud enough to echo, but cut off a second later when Reid’s mouth crashes back onto mine, swallowing it whole.
It takes me a moment to realize the sound was mine.
Everything blurs after that. Sensation on sensation, layered and relentless. Luke’s mouth tracing my skin. Talon’s tongue working me with devastating focus. Reid controlling my breath, my sounds, my ability to think.
I’m completely surrounded. Completely undone.
At some point, I reach out blindly, needing something—someone—to hold onto. My fingers find skin, then muscle, then something harder.
“Oh fuck,” Luke groans, his head tipping back, his entire body tightening. I follow the line of him with my hand. His cock.
Hard. Hot.
Waiting.
I wrap my fingers around him, testing, learning the weight and heat of him as I start to move my hand slowly.
His reaction is immediate.
“Oh, baby,” he chokes out. “Yeah… just like that.”
“I want it in my mouth,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can second-guess them. “Please.”
He shakes his head like he shouldn’t—like he knows he shouldn’t—but his body betrays him, shifting closer anyway.
“Just give it to her,” Reid groans, his voice dark, wrecked. “Fuck… let her take it. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“I do,” I murmur, though the words dissolve halfway through as Talon drags his tongue over my clit again, making my vision flash white.
Still, I lean forward, and take him into my mouth.
The taste of him floods my senses—clean skin, heat, something unmistakably him. I don’t tease, not like I usually would. There’s no patience left in me. No control.
I take him deeper. Faster. Driven by instinct more than anything else.
His groans fuel me. Reid’s voice in my ear fuels me. The fact that they’re all here—watching, touching, wanting—fuels me.
“That’s it,” Reid murmurs, pushing my hair back from my face. “Make him feel good, darling.”
I do.
I take him deeper, tracing every ridge and vein with my tongue, pulling sounds out of him I’ve never heard before.
I cup his balls, squeezing gently as I swallow him down, feeling the head of him press against the back of my throat.
My body tightens again, another wave building as Talon pulls at me relentlessly, his mouth refusing to give me a second to recover.
“Fuck—I’m gonna come,” Luke chokes out, his body tensing, his hand slamming against the headboard. “I’m gonna fucking come, Sierra.”
Do it.
The thought pulses through me as I take him deeper, faster, pushing him right to the edge.
And then—
The tsunami breaks.
A wild shout tears through the room as he comes, his hot seed spilling into my mouth, and I swallow it all, riding out the tremor that shakes through him like I don’t want to waste a single drop of it.