Chapter 14 Earning Sanctuary
Chapter fourteen
Earning Sanctuary
She moved toward him, a little unsure of what to do. With Hunter, he had taken charge and she had let her body do the rest. Now there was no map to guide her, no ancient law to follow—only the bargain she had agreed to, and six pairs of eyes waiting to see if she would honor it.
“Come closer,” Gage said, voice low, rough around the edges.
There was defiance in every syllable, like he expected her to bolt but dared her to try.
“You think you want this? Prove it.” He stepped forward first, as he always did.
The hardened loner with scars etched deeper than any mine shaft, shoved in front of the others, his broad frame blocking them out.
He had already stripped down, his trousers tangled around his ankles as he gripped the base of himself—thick, heavy, the dark head flushed and slick with a shining bead that caught the lantern light.
Snow White’s arms trembled as she crawled toward him on the bed.
Her breath came in shallow bursts, her heart pounding hard enough to hurt.
Up close, the sheer size of him made her throat tighten.
He was thicker than her wrist, veins standing out along the length, the blunt head glistening with heat.
She hesitated just a second, unsure what to do.
She looked up at him and he stepped even closer, pointing himself right at her face.
Slowly, she leaned in, lips parting as her tongue flicked out to taste that first tentative drop.
A shiver ran through her. The flavor was strange—salty, musky, undeniably male—but not as shocking as she’d imagined.
The reality of it, the warmth, the weight, the way he twitched to her touch, all anchored her to the moment.
This was the price she had named. She could give this.
Gage didn’t wait for finesse. His fingers slid into her hair, not cruel but not gentle either, a man ready to grab and hold.
He tightened his grip and drew her forward until her mouth stretched around him.
She gasped around the intrusion, jaw burning with the unfamiliar stretch, but she forced herself to relax, to breathe through her nose, to hollow her cheeks and seal her lips around him.
She let her tongue trace along the underside of him, clumsy at first, then bolder as she felt him respond. He began to move, short, hungry thrusts that pushed him deeper with each pulse. “That’s it,” he muttered, voice gone hoarse. “Just like that, aghh—,” he grunted a low moan.
The others didn’t need more invitation than that.
Clothes hit the floor in a hurried rustle, belts clinking as they were unbuckled, boots kicked aside.
The air seemed to thicken with heat and breath and male bodies suddenly freed from layers of rough work-clothes.
The sharp, cold scent of rain and wet wool that had clung to them began to evaporate, replaced by the heavier, muskier scent of men suddenly stripped of their defenses.
Light glanced off bare skin—shoulders, chests, stomachs, each man shaped by hard labor and lean living.
The sight ignited a fever in her blood she hadn’t known she possessed.
She looked at the circle of men. In the castle, she was a princess who had to hide.
Here, she was a queen holding court, and they were her subjects, waiting for her time.
They closed in, a half circle of warm flesh and rough hands, breaths ragged with anticipation.
The thought of these men all wanting her, all desiring her, all about to have their way with her, made the warmth between her legs begin to throb. She longed to be touched.
Harry, the easygoing thrill-seeker with a grin that could light a room, chuckled low as he circled to her side, tugging his shirt over his head to reveal a broad chest dusted with dark hair.
“Look at her go,” he said, awe threaded through the teasing.
“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” His own arousal jutted from his open trousers, curved slightly and bobbing gently as he moved, the tip flushed.
Snow White’s cheeks burned, but something inside her loosened at their reactions. None of them were pretending they weren’t affected. None of them even tried pretending she wasn’t the center of this.
Gage braced his knees on the mattress, thighs framing her face as he guided himself into her mouth again, deeper this time.
Tears pricked her eyes when his release hit the back of her throat, but she swallowed against the reflex, one hand bracing on his thigh, the other holding lightly around the base of him to steady her rhythm.
“Swallow it down, girl—earn your keep,” he ground out, the words rough but not mocking.
She gagged softly at the flood, but it wasn’t as horrible as she’d feared.
When he pulled back, panting, his hand lingered in her hair for a heartbeat, almost like a silent, grudging ‘thank you’, before he stepped away, tucking himself back into his trousers.
Harry slid in immediately to take his place with an almost boyish eagerness, his laughter bubbling even as hunger thickened his voice.
“Room for one more in that pretty mouth?” he asked, eyes crinkling at the corners.
He didn’t force it, just nudged gently against her lips, giving her the chance to lean away.
She didn’t. Her jaw ached, but she opened for him anyway, tasting the sharper tang of his desire, different from Gage’s.
His hand cupped her cheek with surprising care, thumb stroking her skin as he eased forward.
“Good girl,” Harry breathed. “Look up at me.” He set a slower pace than Gage, rolling his hips rather than driving, watching her carefully.
When she glanced up at him through damp lashes, his expression shifted—heat flaring, yes, but something like tenderness too.
That look, the way he saw her even with his body this undone, almost undid her more than the act itself.
“Saints, you’re beautiful,” Harry whispered, and cum followed the words like an exhale, his body shuddering as he spilled into her mouth.
His other hand smoothed her hair back from her face as if she hadn’t already seen every filthy thing about him.
Dax’s voice cut through the swell of panting and low curses like a whip. “Ok,” he said with the same tone he used to call men to order in the mine. “Get her on her back. Spread her out.”
Strong arms moved at once—Drew’s careful grip at her waist, Silas’s slightly shaky hold under her arms—lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Her world tilted, then her back hit the bed with a soft thud, the mattress dipping under her.
Her filthy nightdress was already hiked high; now it was shoved further, cool air kissing her thighs and the damp, untouched heat between them.
She hadn’t realized how wet she’d become, how her own arousal had grown quietly in the background of everything she was doing.
Now the air on her slick skin made her incredibly aware of it.
Embarrassment flared. So did a hot, swirling need.
They descended around her like a storm breaking—hands, mouths, bodies.
Silas grabbed the scraps of what was her dress and ripped it open, exposing her completely with a wide smile on his face.
Lying naked and exposed on the bed, she felt terrified.
But as she looked around she saw a familiar sight.
The men looked at her the way Hunter had—with adoration, with overwhelm, with need.
She allowed that foreign feeling of confidence to rise in her chest, growing stronger with each adoring look from the men.
Her body—hers, herself—was powerful. At that moment she felt she could negotiate any deal she wanted, but she chose to say nothing.
Dax stepped between her parted legs, his presence steady and unyielding.
Up close, there was nothing soft about him: all deliberate lines and controlled strength.
He met her gaze for a brief second, then looked away as he guided himself to her entrance.
The blunt, rigid head of him brushed her, parting her folds.
She sucked in a breath, fingers curling in the blankets.
There was no teasing, but there was no violence either—just a firm pressure as he pushed into her.
The stretch was sharp, a sting blooming into an overwhelming fullness that made her toes curl.
She’d had Hunter inside her, yes, but this was different.
Dax was larger, more precise; his control made every inch count.
Her body fought him for a heartbeat, clenching, then yielded, muscles loosening with a helpless gasp.
Above her, Silas slid onto the bed to her side, his movements unhurried even now, as if they had all the time in the world.
He caught her gasp with his mouth, kissing her deeply, lazily, as Dax pressed in until his hips met her thighs.
Her cry was swallowed against Silas’s lips, turning into a muffled, shocked moan.
The dual sensation of a slow, thorough kiss and Dax stretching her from below made her spine arch off the mattress.
“I’m so glad you’ve chosen to stay,” Silas said between kisses as he nuzzled into her neck, curled up by her side.
He guided her free hand down, wrapping her fingers around the weight of him—heavy and warm, pulsing with a lazier urgency.
“Just… hold me,” he whispered, eyes half-closed.
“Slow and tight.” She curled her hand around him, thumb accidentally skimming the sensitive ridge beneath the head.
He let out a quiet moan. Encouraged, she stroked him in strong, unhurried pulls, matching the dreamy pace of his kisses, almost forgetting Dax was working her inside.