15. Harper
HARPER
The air tastes like salt and him—Killian, all over me, in my mouth, in my lungs, in the space between my ribs where my heart used to beat steady.
Now it’s just chaos, just pounding blood and heat, just the press of his body lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing.
The door clicks shut behind us, sealing us in, and then his hands are under my dress, palms skimming up my thighs, rough and sure, like he’s been waiting to touch me like this for years.
I wrap my legs around him without thinking, my heels digging into the small of his back, the thin fabric of my dress bunched at my waist. His mouth is on my neck, then my collarbone, then my mouth again, hungry, relentless. I gasp as his teeth graze my lip.
“Killian—”
He swallows the rest, his tongue sweeping inside, deep and claiming. One hand fists in my hair, the other slips lower, fingers brushing over bare skin, finding me slick and trembling. He groans against my lips.
“No panties.”
It’s not a question. It’s a confirmation, low and dark and reverberating through my spine. I bite my lip, smiling even as my body arches into his touch.
“Maddox has an aversion to them, apparently.”
His laugh is a growl, hot against my jaw. “So, do I.” His fingers dip lower, parting me, sliding through wet heat. He isn’t even upset that I didn’t wear panties because Maddox told me to, not him. “Fuck, Harper.”
I whimper as he circles my clit, slow and torturous. “Only for you.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs, pressing a thick finger inside me. My head thuds back against the wall. “For us, Harper. You’re ours.”
I don’t deny it. Can’t. My breath hitches as he adds another finger, stretching me, curling deep. My fingers claw at his shoulders, nails biting into cotton and muscle. He watches me come apart—the flutter of my lashes, the tremble in my bottom lip—and his eyes go black.
“That’s it, princess. Let me feel it.”
I do. I shatter. My thighs squeeze around his wrist, my body bowing as pleasure rips through me like lightning. I see stars behind my eyelids, feel them bursting behind my skin. He doesn’t stop. Keeps me riding his hand until I’m trembling, gasping, whispering his name over and over like a prayer.
Then he yanks the front of my dress down.
Buttons pop, fabric tears. Cool air hits my bare chest, my nipples hardening instantly. He doesn’t give me time to react—his mouth is on me, sucking one breast deep, then the other, his teeth grazing sensitized peaks. I cry out, my hands flying to his hair, gripping tight.
“Killian—”
“I’ve wanted this from the moment I saw you,” he growls, lifting me higher.
He turns, pressing me back against the wall with my legs still locked around him, and then suddenly I’m moving downward—not all the way to the floor, just enough that he can lower himself, his head dipping between my thighs.
I gasp as his tongue replaces his fingers.
“God, yes—yes—”
He eats me like he’s starving, like he’s been dreaming about this for months.
His tongue flicks over my clit, then laps deep, slow and filthy.
I’m already oversensitive, still pulsing from my first orgasm, but it doesn’t matter.
I grind against his mouth, desperate, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, urging him deeper.
He doesn’t resist.
He feasts. Long, wet strokes. Pulling my folds apart with his thumbs, circling my entrance before plunging inside me, sucking my swollen clit between his lips and teasing it with steady pressure.
My legs shake. My vision blurs. I’m babbling, begging, telling him how good he feels, how I’ve thought about this every night since I saw him standing at the edge of the vineyard, all broad shoulders and quiet intensity.
And then the elevator dings.
I freeze.
But Killian doesn’t stop. If anything, he groans against me, his tongue pressing deeper, making me whimper as the elevator doors open.
“Well, fuck,” Maddox drawls. “Looks like we missed the party.”
My eyes snap open. Maddox stands just inside the foyer, shirt unbuttoned, tie loose. Asher is behind him, already shrugging off his jacket, dark eyes fixed on me with that quiet hunger that makes my stomach flip.
I should feel embarrassed. Exposed. I’m bare from the waist up, dress torn, legs spread wide, Killian’s face buried between them. But I don’t. I feel claimed. Desired. Wanted.
Maddox smirks as he steps forward, toeing off his shoes. “Looks like someone wasn’t wasting time.”
Killian finally lifts his head, his lips slick, his gaze molten. He kisses the inside of my thigh, then lowers my legs gently to the floor. I sway, my knees weak, and he catches me with one arm around my waist.
“Had to taste her first,” he says, voice rough. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Maddox steps closer, cupping my chin, tilting my face up. “Mind? I told her not to wear panties, didn’t I?” His thumb drags over my bottom lip.
I lick my lips, tasting salt and arousal. “You planned this?”
He laughs, low and warm. “No. But I hoped.”
Killian steps back, already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the hard lines of his torso, the dark trail of hair leading down beneath his belt. My breath catches.
Asher moves then.
One second he’s across the room, the next he’s in front of me, his hands on my hips, lifting me like I’m nothing. I yelp as he swings me over his shoulder, my front pressing against the cool muscle of him.
“Hey—!”
“Hush, baby,” he murmurs, one hand smoothing over my ass. “We’ve got you.”
I don’t fight. My body is still humming, still thrumming with need.
I watch over Asher’s back as he carries me deeper into the condo—past the open kitchen with its marble countertops, past floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the black ocean.
The place is sleek, modern, all low lighting and dark furniture. But I don’t see much of it.
Because behind us, Killian and Maddox are stripping.
Killian unzips his slacks, letting them drop. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, already hard. Maddox tosses his shirt aside, his own arousal straining against his boxers. He kicks them off, stepping out with that easy confidence that makes my stomach clench.
I can’t look away.
Asher carries me through a set of sliding glass doors. Cool night air washes over me, raising goosebumps on my skin. The balcony is large, covered, with a high ceiling and soft lighting strung overhead. And in the center—a rounded bed, low to the ground, draped in white linen.
He sets me down gently, but doesn’t move away. Instead, he traces a finger from my hip to my collarbone, watching me like he’s memorizing every inch.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs.
Then Maddox is there, stepping onto the balcony behind us. Naked. Hard. Commanding.
“Open your legs,” he says, voice calm but firm. “Show us what’s ours.”
My breath hitches and I do it.
I spread my thighs, my hands reaching down to part my folds, exposing myself—wet, pink, trembling. I’ve never done anything like this. Never felt so exposed. And yet, I’ve never felt more powerful.
Asher’s breath catches.
Killian’s jaw clenches.
Maddox’s eyes darken.
“Fucking perfect,” Asher whispers as Killian approaches me.
He climbs onto the bed, one knee on the mattress, then the other, caging me between his arms. His cock brushes my thigh, hot and insistent. He captures my mouth again—deep, possessive, making me moan into him.
His hands move to my breasts, thumbs swirling over my nipples, tugging until I whimper. Then he lowers his head, sucking one deep, then the other, his tongue circling, teeth scraping. I arch into him, my fingers digging into his biceps.
“You taste like heaven,” he growls. “But I want more.”
He shifts, one hand sliding down my stomach, through my curls, dipping into my soaked folds. “You’re so fucking wet for us.”
I can only nod, my voice gone.
He kisses my neck, my jaw, then whispers in my ear. “You’re going to let us have you. All of you. Every way we want you.”
I shiver. “Yes,” I breathe.
He grins. “Good girl.”
Then he pushes inside me and I cry out.
He’s thick, stretching me, filling me completely. My body adjusts around him, clenching, gripping. He doesn’t rush. Lets me feel every inch as he sinks in, until his hips meet mine.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do.
His eyes are black with lust, but there’s something else—something soft, almost tender.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growls. “So tight. So wet. So mine.”
He pulls back and thrusts again, deep and hard, making me gasp. Then again. And again. Each stroke hits deeper, dragging over that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
“Killian—!”
“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs, his hand wrapping around one of mine, pinning it above my head.
He fucks me like he’s been dreaming about this for years. Hard. Relentless. Each thrust makes the bed creak, makes my body shake. I can’t form words. Just moans. Gasps. Whimpers.
“Good girl,” he repeats, his voice rough. “Take my cock. Take it deep. You’re such a good girl for me.”
I arch, pressing closer. “More—please—more—”
He gives it to me.
Deeper. Faster. His hips slap against mine, the sound echoing in the night air. Sweat slicks our skin, our breaths coming in ragged bursts. I feel his cock twitch inside me, thick and pulsing, and I know he’s close.
But he doesn’t stop.
Instead, he shifts, rolling onto his back, still buried inside me.
“Ride me,” he says, hands on my hips, urging me up.
I push myself upright, my thighs trembling as I adjust to the new angle. He’s even deeper like this, stretching me wider. I look down at him—his chest heaving, his eyes locked on mine—and start to move.
Slow at first. Then faster. I rock my hips, grind down, circling as I lift and fall. His hands guide me, helping me find the rhythm, helping me take him deeper with every stroke.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So fucking perfect. Riding my cock like you were made for it.”
I bite my lip, my fingers splaying over his chest. “You feel so good, Killian. You’re so big.”
He grins, one hand sliding up to cup my breast, thumb flicking over my nipple.