Chapter 4
Annabelle
My back arches off the bed as Ethan’s fingers slide over my clit.
A broken sound tears out of me before I can stop it.
My thighs part wider on instinct, chasing the pressure, the slick drag of his touch.
Every circle he draws, strips another layer off my control.
The world outside this room still exists.
Aidan is still out there. Jack is still hunting. My mind knows all of that.
My body doesn’t care.
“Eyes on me,” Ethan says.
His blue eyes pin me in place while his hand works between my legs with ruthless patience. He is on his side beside me, playing with me with a confidence that makes heat rush through me so fast I feel dizzy.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
“Fuck,” I whisper, because that does things to me, I’m not ready to unpack.
Callan is still near my feet, kneeling on the mattress, watching with an intensity that makes my skin burn. He hasn’t touched me again yet, but I can feel him there. Feel his attention. It is nearly as devastating as Ethan’s fingers.
Ethan bends and takes one of my nipples into his mouth.
I cry out, my hand flying to his hair. He groans against my breast, and that vibration goes straight through me. Pleasure sharpens. My hips move helplessly against his hand.
“That’s it,” he says against my skin. “Give it to me.”
I’m so wet for him, and he knows it. I can hear it every time Ethan moves his hand. Wet, needy little sounds that tell them exactly what they’re doing to me.
Ethan lifts his head from my breast and watches me come apart. Then he presses two fingers inside me in one hard glide, and every thought in my head shatters.
“Oh, God.”
My legs tremble. His thumb stays on my clit, working me while his fingers curl deep. I can’t hold still. My hips jerk. My breath turns ragged. I stare at the ceiling for half a second before Ethan catches my chin and turns my face back to him.
“Me,” he says.
I drag my gaze to his.
Heat twists lower in my belly, tight and unbearable. I’m so close that it hurts. Every push of his fingers drags over something inside me that makes my toes curl. I can feel Callan watching every second, and that awareness adds another layer.
I know he can see how open I am. How wrecked I already look. I am so close that the air feels thin.
“Callan,” Ethan says, not taking his eyes off me.
Something changes at the edge of the bed. A shift of weight. A quiet intake of breath. Then Callan’s hand slides up my calf again, steadier this time, warmer, firmer, travelling over my knee to my thigh. My whole body jolts at the contact.
His eyes never leave my face. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I don’t,” I say at once, voice wrecked.
A dark look passes over his face. Possession. Hunger. Something deeper that makes my pulse kick even harder.
Ethan gives a low, satisfied sound and crooks his fingers inside me again. Pleasure crashes through me so hard I nearly sob. “Good girl.”
I cannot think. I can only feel. Their attention strips me raw.
Callan moves closer. His other hand settles on my waist, careful for half a second, then more certain when I do not flinch. My skin burns everywhere he touches. His thumb strokes once over my hip, and that tiny movement nearly undoes me.
“Callan,” I breathe his name like a question and an answer at once.
His jaw tightens. He looks at me the way he looks at everything, precise and deliberate, like he is cataloguing every small shift in my expression. His thumb moves again over my hip, and I feel it everywhere.
Ethan’s fingers curl inside me, and I stop being able to think about anything at all.
The orgasm hits without warning, or maybe with every warning, because I have been hovering on the edge of it for so long that when it finally breaks, it breaks completely.
My back lifts off the mattress. A sound tears out of me that I don’t recognise as my own voice.
Ethan works me through every shudder, thumb steady, fingers deep.
I come down slowly, trembling, my thighs locked around his wrist.
His mouth curves. He draws his fingers free, slow enough that I gasp again, and my whole body contracts around nothing.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
Ethan brings his fingers to his mouth and holds my gaze the entire time.
The sight of it sends a fresh wave of heat through me, even though I have nothing left.
My thighs are still shaking. My pulse is still scattered.
I feel hollowed out in the best possible way, and yet something in me is already pulling towards more.
Callan’s hand is still on my waist. I turn my head to look at him.
He is watching me with that particular focus he has, the kind that makes me feel like the only fixed point in a spinning room. His jaw is set. His chest rises and falls with a steadiness that I know costs him something.
“Come here,” I say.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a second, then back up.
“Annabelle,” he says, like my name is a warning he’s giving himself.
“I know,” I say. “Come here anyway.”
Something breaks open in his expression.
Not wide. Not dramatic. Just a small fracture in that careful control.
He moves up the bed with a deliberate, measured grace that makes my breath catch, and then he is beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth coming off his skin, and his eyes find mine.
He doesn’t touch me yet.
That look does as much damage as Ethan’s fingers did. It is entirely focused, entirely present, like the rest of the world has been stripped away, and what remains is only this. Only me. I reach up and press my palm flat against his chest, over his heart. It is hammering.
That undoes me completely.
“You’re scared,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he says, and the honesty in that single word makes my throat ache.
I slide my hand up his chest to his jaw and bring him down to me.
He lets me.
The kiss starts carefully. Almost unbearably careful. His mouth is soft against mine, tentative in a way that is nothing like the rest of him. Nothing like the cold precision or the flat, cutting voice. He pulls back to ask, “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.”
He kisses me again, and this time the careful part falls away.
His mouth opens against mine, and the sound he makes is low and almost pained, like something he has been holding back for longer than this moment. My fingers grip the back of his neck. His hand comes up to my hair, not rough, just certain.
Ethan shifts beside me. I feel him move rather than see it, his weight redistributing on the mattress, giving Callan room. That small act of deference from Ethan, who defers to nothing and no one, tells me more than any of them have said out loud.
Callan breaks the kiss and looks at me.
His eyes are dark. The careful distance he keeps around himself like armour has gone thin.
I can see the effort it takes him to stay here, to not pull back into the cold that is easier and safer and entirely his.
I see it, and I want to dismantle every last piece of it.
I sit up, pushing him back. He lets me, sitting back as he watches where I move.
Crawling onto his lap, he breathes in, and his hands drop to my hips.
My pussy presses against his hard cock, and I moan, grinding my hips.
For the first time in a long time, I feel powerful.
Alive. I rock my hips again, and Callan’s breath catches.
His fingers dig into my skin hard enough to bruise, but I don’t care.
I want the marks. I want proof that this is real.
That he is real. That I am not just some fragile thing they are protecting.
I grip his cock and tug him. He groans and kisses me deeper, his hand tugging my hair almost roughly.
I gasp and rise up, sliding his cock over my clit.
He is thick, hot, and I’m so wet that he slides in with one hard thrust that makes us both gasp.
I cry out as he stretches me, and I rock against him, taking him deeper.
Callan’s hands grip my waist, his breath coming in sharp bursts against my neck. “Fuck, Annabelle.”
I don’t answer with words. I answer by moving, rolling my hips in slow, deliberate circles that make his grip tighten. His cock drags against something inside me that sends sparks through my veins, and I do it again just to hear the broken sound he makes.
Ethan shifts behind me, his hands sliding up my back. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Taking him like you were made for it.”
I whimper, my head falling back against his shoulder. His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp tingle. His other hand slides around my front, his fingers finding my clit. I gasp as he circles it, the pressure building again too fast, too sharp.
I rock forward, and Callan’s grip goes punishing, like he needs to hold me here, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. I want the pain. I want to feel it tomorrow and the day after.
Ethan’s mouth is at my ear. “That’s it,” he murmurs. The words are low and filthy and meant only for me. His fingers work my clit without mercy, and the sensation stacks on top of everything else until I can’t separate any of it.
“Look at me,” Callan says.
His eyes are dark. His control is almost gone, and I can see exactly what it costs him to hold the last of it.
I roll my hips, slow and deliberate, and watch it slip.
He thrusts up hard enough to knock the breath out of me. I cry out and do it again, chasing that, wanting more of it, wanting all of it. His hands grip my hips again, dragging me down onto him. I feel him everywhere.
“Tell me what you want,” Ethan murmurs against my neck.
“More,” I pant. “Don’t stop.”
I feel the exact second Callan’s control snaps. His grip turns rougher, almost desperate, and he thrusts up hard enough to split me open.
Ethan’s fingers keep working my clit, relentless. His breath is hot against my neck, his voice a low growl. “Look at you taking every inch of his cock like you were made for it.”
I whimper, my body trembling between them. Every thrust from Callan sends a fresh wave of pleasure through me, sharp and overwhelming. I can feel him everywhere, filling me, stretching me, and the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing that matters—makes it even hotter.
“Callan,” I breathe, my voice breaking.
His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense. “You feel incredible,” he says, his voice rough. “So, fucking perfect.”
His words hit deep inside me, and I clench around him.
My hips roll faster. Callan meets every movement with a thrust that makes my vision blur at the edges.
Ethan stays behind me. His fingers keep circling my clit without pause.
The pressure builds again sharp and fast. I reach back and grab the back of Ethan’s neck for balance.
He leans into the touch. Callan’s eyes stay locked on mine the whole time.
I see the exact moment he gives in completely.
His jaw loosens. His rhythm turns desperate.
He drives up harder. I cry out and grind down to take all of it.
Ethan’s mouth finds my neck. His teeth scrape lightly.
It pushes me over.
The second orgasm rips through me without mercy. My body shakes between them. Callan follows right after. He buries himself deep and groans low. We stay locked together for several long breaths.
Ethan withdraws his hand slowly. He presses a kiss to my shoulder before he pulls me off Callan’s cock and places me on all fours on the bed.
“Dirty girl,” he murmurs. “Taking my brother’s cock before you take mine. So full of cum.” He groans loudly, excessively, as he slides into me.
“Fuck,” I pant, my body is trembling from the aftershocks. “Ethan!”
He drives into me with a force that steals every breath.
My arms shake under the weight of it. His hips snap against mine in a rhythm that leaves no room for thought.
Every thrust pushes me forward. Ethan’s hands grip my hips to hold me steady.
The pressure builds again. It coils low and tight until I cannot hold back the sounds that spill out.
Callan reaches out and brushes his fingers along my jaw. The touch grounds me in the moment.
Ethan drives harder. My arms hold my weight as he rides me, harder, faster.
I whimper and push back to meet each thrust.
Ethan’s grip on my hips tightens. He pulls me back onto him with each thrust of his cock. The rhythm turns savage. Pleasure spikes sharp and sudden.
My pussy locks around him. Ethan groans low and unloads inside me with one final thrust.
Ethan eases out slowly. He presses a kiss to my lower back before he moves away.
Callan helps me lie on my side. His arm rests along my waist without pulling me closer than I need.
The room stays quiet except for our breathing.
Aidan’s situation presses back into my thoughts.
The worry returns full force. I close my eyes for a second.
The contact helps hold the panic at bay.
Ethan returns from the bathroom with a cloth.
He cleans me gently. The action feels almost normal in the middle of everything else.
Callan’s expression stays open in a way I haven’t seen from him before.
I reach for his hand, and he links our fingers.
Ethan returns the cloth to the bathroom before he climbs onto the bed on my other side.
None of us mentions the danger outside this room.
We lie there instead. The weight of everything waits just beyond these walls.
For now, the three of us breathe in the same space. That counts as enough.