Chapter Twenty #2
“Yes,” she breathes, the word trembling out of her like a confession, her voice heavy with need and trust.
Before the word even finishes leaving her lips, Emerson moves with a sudden, commanding urgency.
In one fluid motion, he has her on top of him, slamming into her with a force that steals both their breath.
The sound that escapes them is raw—half groan, half exhale—as he fucks up into her.
His hands grip her ass with purpose, guiding her, grounding her, until the world narrows to nothing but their shared heat and the sounds of pleasure that fill the space.
My twin and I move into place, instinct taking over where words aren’t needed.
Emerson already has her trembling, his movements sure and relentless, every sound she makes feeding the wildfire between us.
The air is thick, charged with need and trust, every heartbeat syncs into one rhythm.
I reach for her, my hands finding her hips, feeling the tension and power in every thrust she takes.
The squelching of her pussy is loud as he pumps into her, picking up his pace before pulling out and gliding himself along the entirety of her seam—pussy to ass—lubing her up easily for me.
When he pulls her close again, their bodies align in a rhythm that leaves no space between them. He holds her tight, guiding her movements until she’s pressed against him, helpless to do anything but follow his lead. A soft sound escapes her, part protest, part need.
He hushes her gently, his hand smoothing down her back. “Easy, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing. “Breathe. Let him in.”
She shifts beneath my hands, trying to move, but I hold her steady, my touch firm yet calming as I guide my cock through her wetness. My hand trails down her spine to the curve of her ass, gripping and spreading her cheeks, before slipping into her wetness.
She lets out a soft, trembling whimper, her voice breaking on a single word. “Please,” she breathes, the sound fragile and desperate.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her ear, my voice calm and unwavering, meant to hold her steady.
My hands move with care, guiding her, helping her adjust until the tension in her body melts into something deeper—trusting.
She exhales shakily, and I feel it ripple through both of us.
“Good girl,” I whisper, my voice rough with pride and possession.
“You’re taking our cocks so well.” Her fingers clutch at Emerson, her body moving with ours in a rhythm that feels endless, her breath catching on every thrust. The moment stretches, thick with heat and connection, until there’s nothing left between us but confidence, control, and the raw, consuming pulse of the we’ve built together.
“One more, baby,” I murmur, my voice soft and reverent. “Tell him what you need.”
A soft, breathless sound escapes her, half moan, half plea. “Yes,” she whispers, the word tumbling out again, more desperate this time. “Yes… please.” She pushes up from Emerson’s chest, searching for Rowan through the haze of heat and motion, her hand reaching out to draw him closer.
“You need me, baby,” he murmurs with a faint smirk, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “Show me.”
She parts her lips without hesitation, her breath trembling as he slips his thumb past them, pressing lightly against her tongue. The sound she makes is raw, a broken whine that vibrates through the air, pulling a quiet growl from deep in his chest.
She catches his thumb between her lips; her eyes locked on his as she sucks softly.
A rough sound escapes him, desperate and unrestrained.
“Fuck,” he breathes, dragging his thumb across her lips before tilting her chin down.
“Open,” he says, his tone firm but coaxing.
She obeys, breath trembling as he guides her, sliding all the way to the back of her throat in one go.
Her gag is the spark that sets everything in motion.
The sound she makes—raw and breathless—pulls a growl from deep in my chest. The room fills with the rhythm of movement, the rush of breath, the tangle of groans and murmured curses that blur together until it’s all one pulse.
Tension builds and breaks, her body tightening with a shudder, coming hard on our cocks.
Emerson groans, his voice rough and strained.
“Fuck, baby… you’re gonna make me come. Give me one more.
” The words barely leave his mouth before she tightens again, the sound that escapes her half moan, half cry.
It’s all it takes—he breaks with her, the moment crashing over them in a rush that steals the air from the room.
The thought of her pretty pussy coated in cum sends a rush through me, sharp and uncontrollable. The tension snaps, my body giving in to the pull of it. Every sound, every tremor from her drags me under until all that’s left is the pulse pounding in my ears and the raw heat of release.
Beside us, Rowan loses his own battle for control, his movements rough, desperate, his focus locked on her completely as he fucks her throat. Moments later, he groans and comes deep down her throat with a curse.
The room fills with the rhythm of our breathing, low murmurs, her fractured sounds woven between them—an echo of what we’ve become together: tangled, consuming, and inseparable.
Berk slumps against Emerson’s chest, her breath warm against his skin, and within seconds a soft, almost soundless snore escapes her. The noise freezes all of us mid-motion before Em glances down and lets out a quiet laugh.
“She’s out like a light,” he murmurs, his voice low with affection as he cradles the back of her head, his fingers threading gently through her hair.
I ease back carefully, not wanting to wake her, every movement slow and deliberate.
Em stays still for a moment longer before shifting with equal care.
Rowan’s already grabbing a warm cloth, and the three of us move quietly, working together to make sure she’s comfortable.
It’s a simple act, but it feels intimate—protective, grounding.
When we finish, she sighs in her sleep, curling closer to Emerson. I catch the faint sound of a growl from one of my brothers—maybe both—and I can’t blame them. The thought of her like this, soft and safe between us, stirs something deep and possessive in all of us.
Her face is tucked against Emerson’s chest, breath slow and even. One hand curls into his ribs, as if she’s still anchoring herself to him even in sleep. The sight loosens a tight place inside me—one I was convinced had long since hardened over.
Rowan and I lie on either side of them, keeping watch while the room settles into shadow, quiet broken only by the soft hush of the night.
I don’t look away for a long time. I track the steady rise of her breathing, the faint flutter of her lashes when dreams pull at her. It steadies me in a way that borders on pain. She’s here. Alive. Ours. And the fear of waking up to her absence again never quite leaves my grip.
Rowan breaks the silence first, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t believe the shit they pulled right under our noses. All this time, and we never saw it.”
His words hang heavy in the air. I stare up at the ceiling, tracing the faint cracks in the plaster.
“They were good at hiding it,” I say. “Too good. The things they did to our moms, to Reign, to Berk…” My throat tightens around their names.
“They made monsters out of themselves and thought no one would ever come for them.”
Emerson shifts slightly, careful not to wake her. His hand moves in slow circles on her back, his eyes far away. “They hurt everyone who ever loved them,” he says. “They ruined everything they touched—but they didn’t finish the job.”
“No,” Rowan agrees quietly. “They didn’t.”
The silence stretches again, thicker this time, full of memories we can’t put into words. For a moment, I see my mother’s face, Reign’s laughter, the flashes of what we’ve lost because of the men who raised us. And then I look at Berk—safe, warm, alive—and it reminds me why we’re still breathing.
I reach out, letting my fingers skim over the scars along her arm.
My thumb brushes the fading mark at my side without thinking—healed cleaner than it should be, stitches already gone, like my body’s racing to keep up with everything we still have to survive.
“Tomorrow,” I murmur, “we take another step toward finishing this. For them. For her.”
Rowan nods, his voice firm and unyielding. “And for us.”
Emerson doesn’t answer. His hand stays at her back, moving in slow, protective passes, like he’s memorizing the feel of her there.
Silence settles over the three of us again, heavy but not crushing. It presses in close, binding instead of breaking. The room slips deeper into shadow, and the steady cadence of Berk’s breathing fills the space, drawing us down with her.
Sleep finds us easier with her here than it ever did in the years she was gone—weighted, purposeful. Tomorrow, the fight waits. But tonight, she’s with us. And for now, that’s enough to keep the fire burning.