Extended Epilogue #2
"I do want to eat you alive." He pushes one finger inside me, and I cry out at the sensation. "But first, I want to hear you beg."
The stretch is delicious, not nearly enough. I clench around him, trying to draw him deeper, but he holds maddeningly still.
"Atticus. Please."
"Please what?"
"More. I need more."
He adds a second finger, and the sound that escapes me is somewhere between a moan and a sob. His thumb finds my clit, pressing in tight circles while his fingers work inside me, and the combination makes my vision blur at the edges.
"Like this?" His voice is rough now, that composed facade starting to crack. "Is this what you need?"
"Yes. No. I don't—" I can't form complete sentences, can't think past the mounting pressure building in my core. "I need you inside me."
"I am inside you."
"You know what I mean."
He curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes. "Say it, firebird. Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want your knot." The words tumble out, shameless and desperate. "I want you to fuck me until I can't remember why I was ever afraid of this. I want you to—I want you to bite me—" I break off with a gasp as he adds a third finger. "God, Atticus, please."
His jaw clenches. His hands grip my hips hard enough to leave fingerprints. And then he pushes inside me in one slow, devastating thrust.
I cry out at the stretch. He's big—bigger than I always expect, even after all the times we've done this—and my body struggles to accommodate him. But the burn is good. Perfect. Exactly what I need to anchor me in this moment.
"Okay?" His voice is strained, every muscle in his body locked tight with the effort of holding still.
"Move." I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. "Move, Atticus."
He doesn't need to be told twice.
The first thrust knocks the breath from my lungs. The second makes me see stars. By the third, I've lost any ability to form words, reduced to a litany of moans and gasps and his name repeated like a prayer.
Atticus fucks like he does everything else—with complete focus and devastating precision.
Each stroke hits exactly where I need it, angles shifting until he finds the spot that makes me scream.
His thumb finds my clit again, rubbing in counterpoint to his thrusts, and the dual sensation is almost too much.
"That's it." His voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. "Let me hear you. Let me feel you."
The pressure builds and builds, coiling tighter with every snap of his hips. I'm close, so close, teetering on the edge of something enormous.
"Atticus." His name comes out broken. "I'm going to—"
"I know." He leans down, mouth finding mine in a messy, desperate kiss. "Come for me, Phoenix. Let go."
The orgasm hits like a tidal wave.
I shatter around him, walls clenching rhythmically as the pleasure crashes through me in endless, overwhelming pulses. He fucks me through it, prolonging the sensation until I'm sobbing against his shoulder, overstimulated and wrung out and still somehow wanting more.
"Fuck." He buries his face in my neck, hips stuttering. "Fuck, you feel so good—"
I feel him swell inside me, knot expanding as his own release approaches. The stretch makes me gasp, aftershocks firing through nerves that should be exhausted but somehow aren't.
"Do it." I card my fingers through his hair, pulling his face up so I can see his eyes. "I want to feel you come."
He groans—this guttural, animal sound—and slams into me one final time. I feel him pulse inside me, hot and wet, knot locking us together as his whole body shudders with the force of his orgasm.
His teeth sink into the fleshy curve of my shoulder.
The pain is white-hot and absolute—a bright, clean line of fire that tears through the afterglow and rewires every nerve ending in my body.
I feel the bond snap into place like a deadbolt thrown home, the sound of it ringing through some interior chamber I didn't know existed.
Not metaphorical. Physical. A vibration that starts where his jaw is locked against my flesh and radiates outward through my bones, my blood, the marrow of me.
Atticus floods in.
Not his scent or his body or even his voice—him. The whole of him, pouring through the newly opened channel like water through a broken dam. I feel his satisfaction, dark and possessive. His relief, sharp enough to cut. And underneath both, something so vast and tender it makes my lungs seize.
He loves me. He loves me so much it hurts him.
I grab his forearm before he can pull away. My fingers dig into the muscle, yanking it toward my mouth, and I bite down on the inside of his wrist with every ounce of strength my jaw possesses.
His whole body jerks. A sound rips out of him—not a word, not a groan, something more primal than language—and the bond doubles back on itself, completing a circuit that lights up behind my closed eyelids like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
My mark on his skin. His mark on mine.
Ours.
We stay like that for a long moment. Tangled together, breathing each other's air, still connected in the most intimate way possible.
Then he shifts slightly, adjusting his weight so he's not crushing me, and presses a kiss to my forehead.
"Hi."
I laugh, the sound weak and breathless. "Hi yourself."
"How are you feeling?"
I take inventory. The heat has receded slightly, satisfied for now, but I can already feel it gathering strength for the next wave.
My body is loose and languid, muscles trembling with pleasant exhaustion.
And underneath it all, a bone-deep contentment that makes my eyes prick with unexpected tears.
"Good." The word doesn't feel adequate. "Really good."
His thumb traces my cheekbone, catching a tear I didn't realize had escaped. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
The knot is already starting to deflate, his body slowly separating from mine. The loss makes me whimper, instinct screaming to keep him close, keep him inside, keep him mine.
"I'm not going anywhere." He reads the panic in my expression and soothes it with another kiss. "Just getting comfortable. I'm staying right here."
He rolls onto his side, pulling me with him until I'm tucked against his chest. His arm wraps around my waist, hand splayed possessively across my stomach. His scent surrounds me—jasmine and plum and the musk of sex—and something in my chest settles.
"The next wave will hit soon," I warn him. "Maybe an hour. Maybe less."
"I'll be ready."
"Dom and Judah—"
"Are downstairs with Mason. They'll rotate in when you need them." His lips brush my temple. "We planned for this, remember? All of us, together. You're not doing this alone ever again."
The tears come harder now, spilling down my cheeks in hot rivulets. Atticus doesn't comment, just holds me tighter, letting me fall apart in the safety of his arms.
"I love you." The words tumble out, raw and honest. "I love all of you. I don't know what I did to deserve—"
"You existed." His voice is fierce, brooking no argument. "That's all you had to do. Just exist, and let us love you back."
I bury my face in his chest and let myself believe him.
DOMINIC
Phoenix is on me the second I enter the room.
She launches herself off the mattress and is across the room before I can blink.
One minute, I see her flushed and rumpled in the center of the nest and in the next she's trying to climb a goddamn tree, legs wrapping around my waist, arms circling my neck, mouth finding the pulse point below my jaw.
Her teeth scrape against my skin—not hard enough to break through, but close. So close.
"Dom." My name comes out as a whimper. "You're here."
"I'm here." My voice sounds like gravel. My hands find her waist automatically, steadying her against me even as every nerve ending fires at the contact. "How are you—"
She bites my earlobe. Hard.
I stumble backward, hitting the wall with enough force to rattle the pictures hanging on either side.
Phoenix doesn't seem to notice—or if she does, she doesn't care.
Her hips rock against mine, seeking friction, and the thin cotton of my shorts does absolutely nothing to mask the heat of her or the wet slide of her arousal against my thigh.
"Phoenix, slow down—"
Another bite. This one lands on my neck, right over my pulse, and the pressure makes my vision go white at the edges.
I cast a desperate glance toward the bed. "Little help here?"
Atticus doesn't move. Doesn't even lift his arm from his eyes. "I'll be right there." His voice is pure exhaustion, rough and slow. "Soon as I can feel my legs again. Give me a day or two."
I'd laugh if I thought he was joking.
Phoenix's mouth traces a wet path up my throat. Her fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head back to give her better access. The strength in her grip—surprising for someone her size—sends a bolt of heat straight to my groin.
"Need you." The words are muffled against my skin. "Need you now."
"I know, sweetheart. I know." I try to guide her toward the bed, but she resists, tightening her grip around my waist. "Let's just get you somewhere more—"
She bites me again.
Harder this time. Hard enough that I feel the skin give way, feel the hot rush of blood welling up under her teeth.
The bond slams into me like a freight train.
One second there's nothing—just the overwhelming pressure of her body against mine, her scent in my lungs, her taste on my tongue—and then everything.
Phoenix floods through the newly opened channel, raw and unfiltered.
I feel her desperation, sharp as broken glass.
Her need, deep enough to drown in. And underneath it all, a love so fierce it makes my eyes sting.
Mine.
The word tears through me, instinct obliterating everything resembling rational thought. She bit me. She claimed me. My omega marked me as hers, and now I need—
I need—
I flip us.