Chapter 21
Zander watched them, Emmy cradling Spencer’s trembling frame, their wolf undone in his surrender, tears carving paths down flushed cheeks while rope marks bloomed across his skin.
Satisfaction swelled in Zander’s chest — Emmy had navigated the storm with flawless instinct. She’d coaxed, ordered, and threatened their boy in the perfect ratio to bring his buried shame to the surface, and then she’d talked him through why he was wrong without judgment.
Zander’s link with Spence allowed him to feel the cathartic flood of relief, both literal and metaphorical. His cramps were easing, and the soul-deep security of being seen and cherished in his most fractured places was like a balm to his boy’s soul.
Love poured across the bond that shouldn’t exist yet, Spence’s devotion a steady, ever-present current, along with Emmy’s affection and her fierce protectiveness.
After centuries of cool detachment, it had taken Zander some time to get used to the constant warmth, the love he received in a steady stream from his boy.
And now, even without a link, he could sense love from Emmy, too.
He hoped she’d want more with him soon, but was prepared to wait until she came to him. With her shields, any vampire magic would have to be her idea, not his.
He stepped forward, cool hands joining Emmy’s on Spencer’s back, grounding him further as the tremors faded and the water slowed.
He waited several minutes after the water stopped before asking, “What are sexual submissives for, boy?”
Spencer lifted his head, eyes red-rimmed but clear, voice hoarse from sobs and the gag. “To provide pleasure, Sir.”
Zander’s smile curved slow, and he leaned in to kiss his boy’s temple. “Exactly. Dry yourself, lube your asshole, then go to the bed and prepare to pleasure your Mistress with your mouth.”
Spencer moved without hesitation, body still quivering from the enema’s aftermath as he slicked himself with careful fingers, the cool gel a soothing contrast to lingering sensitivity.
And while his boy followed his orders, Zander undressed Emmy, cool lips brushing exposed skin in trailing kisses that made her shiver and arch.
She returned the favor, hands mapping his chest, nails scraping lightly over his back until he growled low, pulling her close for a deep, claiming kiss, cool lips and warm skin.
They moved to the bed together, and Zander set them up with Spencer on his knees between her legs, his mouth working her to ecstasy.
And then Zander moved behind Spencer, parted his boy’s cheeks, and pressed in without mercy, filling him deeply.
Spencer ignored his own pleasure and focused on Emmy, his tongue working in long, deliberate strokes that had her hips bucking, and her fingers threading into his hair.
Zander set a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured, each one driving Spencer’s face deeper into Emmy.
Through the link, Zander felt everything Spencer did — his boy’s raw channel clenching around him, tender from the enema but craving the fill; the throb of denied need in his cock, balls heavy and aching; the flood of pleasure as Emmy’s taste coated his tongue, her moans vibrating through him like praise.
Spencer moved his mouth to her clit and used his fingers inside her, and Emmy came in a slow, rolling wave that had her back arching, walls fluttering against Spencer’s probing fingers as he curled them just right, tongue lashing relentlessly.
Love surged through Zander at the sight — his beautiful Emerald undone, fierce and graceful, her cries a symphony.
He didn’t slow, pounding deeper, the slap of cool skin on bruised ass the only sound between Emmy’s orgasms, shattering again and again, nails digging into Spencer’s shoulders, body convulsing as pleasure tore through her, scent blooming wild and spicy in the air.
Zander reveled in Spencer’s struggle: the desperate fight not to come, cock throbbing untouched, his boy’s need a living fire he held back through sheer will.
And his walls clutched and throbbed around Zander’s cock, squeezing and fighting, accepting the invasion because it had no choice. Zander aimed at his boy’s prostate a dozen thrusts, making his muscles squeeze and contract around him, then decided to give him a little mercy and aim away from it.
The next crest hit Emmy like lightning, and her screams echoed as she ground against Spencer’s face. And all the while, Spencer’s walls spasmed and pulsed in visceral waves while he fought for control, desperate to find his own release but holding onto it through sheer willpower and devotion.
Zander’s own release had been building, and he finally let it go, his seed spilling deep inside Spencer in pulsing jets that prolonged the bliss, his growl low and satisfied as he held buried, claiming.
And Spencer was frozen between them, denied, assuming he wasn’t to get an orgasm.
Emmy lay gasping, her body limp and glowing, while Spencer slowly pulled away and knelt with his ass on his heels, cock rock-hard and leaking, face flushed with effort and denial.
“Does our boy deserve an orgasm?” Zander asked softly, voice laced with dark amusement and pride.
Emmy met his gaze, eyes sparkling with sated mischief. She made a noncommittal noise, glanced at Spencer, then back to Zander.
“Start a countdown for three minutes, please.”
Zander’s smile widened, and he reached to the side table for his phone.
“Done.”
Emmy scooted so she could get her mouth on Spencer, took him in to the root, and his boy’s eyes went wide as quarters.
This isn’t proper, Sir—she shouldn’t—
Zander merely smiled and asked, Do you really think it’s a good idea to order her to stop?
Spencer’s protest died instantly, his submission too strong to even ask her to stop, much less make it an order.
He could sense what his boy was feeling, the heat of her mouth plunging down, tongue swirling as she sucked him deep. Raw, overwhelming pleasure blazed through him after hours of denial, every nerve alight, the release building fast and furious.
He warned her out loud, voice breaking. “Ma’am, I’m—close—”
When she didn’t pull away, he tried again. “I’m close, Ma’am. Please! This isn’t proper!”
But she only moved faster and hummed. The vibration shattered his control and an orgasm ripped through him like wildfire, milking spasms that left him shaking with the intensity of it, body convulsing as she swallowed every drop.
And then she rose over his trembling body and kissed him slow, sharing the taste of him on her tongue, a final claim that silenced his lingering protest.
“You don’t get to decide what’s proper,” she whispered against his lips, voice husky with affection.
Zander pulled them both close, arms encircling his loves, the triangle complete and humming with quiet, profound joy.
He’d seen Spencer’s thoughts for some time, but was waiting for the right way to pull them into the light. He was glad he’d waited. It had worked perfectly to let Emerald deal with it.
Emmy’s hands trembled slightly as she helped Spence into his pants, Zander supporting him from behind while she pulled the fabric up his legs. The tremor wasn’t from exhaustion, though she was tired, but from the weight of what she’d just done.
Breaking someone open like that, peeling back layers until the rawest truth spilled out … it required precision. Cruelty wrapped in care. The exact right balance of threat and comfort, pushing without shattering.
And then, once the truth was out, she’d had to think on her feet. One wrong word and she could’ve driven him deeper into shame instead of pulling him out of it. One miscalculation and she might’ve broken his trust instead of earning it.
But she’d done it. She’d seen the exact moment he cracked, watched the surrender ripple through him, heard the confession tear from his throat, and then she’d caught him, held him, and told him the truth he needed to hear.
You’re choosing us.
Spence stood docile between them, swaying slightly, his eyes distant and soft. Blissed out. Safe.
Zander’s cool hands steadied him while Emmy pulled his shirt on.
“From this day forward,” Zander said quietly, his gaze on Emmy while his hands supported Spence, “he belongs to both of us equally.”
Emmy’s breath caught. She looked up, meeting those impossibly blue eyes.
“The two of us will discuss goals when necessary, so we’re on the same page with where we want to take our boy,” Zander continued, his voice matter-of-fact.
“But when one of us is alone with him, we can play with him as we want, in any combination of pain and pleasure. You don’t need my permission for anything you feel appropriate. You don’t need to check in first.”
His hand came up to cup the back of Spence’s neck, a gesture of possession and affection.
“He’s ours. Co-owned in every way. Drop into a scene whenever you want, though of course, you’ll be aware of any deadlines he’s working towards.
You’ve already done so, when you were only having sex with him.
There’s no doubt you understand the jobs he does for the silo and coterie. ”
Our boy. Ours.
“I’ve watched you in action from Felix’s point of view,” Zander continued.
“I’ve seen how far you took him. I know what you’re capable of, and have a good idea of the extent of your sadism.
” Zander’s gaze intensified. “I completely trust you to be safe with our boy. You step fully into your place at the top with me, and Spence feels the stability of being owned by two people who love him.”
Something fierce and hot bloomed in Emmy’s chest. She reached out to touch Spence’s cheek, and he leaned into her palm with a soft sound that made her throat tight.
“Thank you,” she whispered, not entirely sure if she was thanking Zander, Spence, or both.
Zander gave a rare, genuine smile that made him look almost human.