Harper
The air tastes like salt and heat and want.
I’m braced against Asher’s chest, his heartbeat thick under my shoulder blades, his hands steady on my hips as he slides deeper into me, slow and deliberate, making me gasp around the stretch.
My fingers dig into the taut planes of his abs, toes curling over the tops of his thighs, and I can’t tell if I’m holding on or pushing back, only that I need more.
Killian’s breath skims my clit. Then his mouth is on me—hot, insistent. I jerk, a whimper breaking free as he licks a slow stripe up my slit, fingers already slipping inside, two of them curling just right. My back bows. Asher tightens his grip, doesn’t let me fall.
“Easy, mon coeur,” he murmurs in my ear, voice rough like gravel wrapped in velvet. “Take it. Take us.”
I do. I’m taking everything.
Killian’s tongue works me in circles while his fingers fuck me fast, wet sounds filling the room, my breath coming in sharp little bursts. I’m already close, trembling, my ass clenching around Asher’s cock as he starts to move, just a roll of his hips, just enough to make me cry out.
“Look at her,” Killian growls, lifting his head, glistening fingers dragging from my pussy to swipe across my stomach, then higher, smearing slick over my skin, my breasts, my collarbone. “Fucking perfect when she’s this open. This full.”
Asher chuckles low, the sound vibrating against my spine. “She takes it so well. So tight. Feels like heaven’s squeezing me.”
I whimper, head falling back against Asher’s shoulder. My eyes flutter shut, but then I force them open, searching blindly—
And find Maddox.
He’s on the coffee table, thick cock in his fist, stroking slow, watching us with dark, hungry eyes. His jaw is tight. His breath uneven. And when he sees me looking, he grins. Wicked. Possessive.
“Want me too, sweetheart?” he asks.
I don’t answer with words. I open my mouth. Wide. Panting. Begging without sound.
His grin widens. He stands, wipes his hand on his thigh, then moves behind the couch.
Asher and Killian shift, guiding me without speaking, turning me so my back is arched over the armrest, my head tipped back, my throat exposed.
Killian’s on his knees between my legs, fingers still working me.
Asher’s behind me, hands under my arms, holding me steady.
And then Maddox is there—thick crown nudging my lips, my tongue pressing out to taste him before he even pushes in.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re greedy for it, aren’t you?”
I hum. Nod. Try to suck him deeper.
But he doesn’t let me. Pulls back. Only lets me have the head, teasing my tongue with slow, shallow thrusts.
“Not yet,” he says.
Asher slows his roll in my ass. Killian stills his fingers.
I whine.
That’s when I feel the rhythm start again—three points, three mouths, three bodies working me in time.
Asher thrusts deep, Killian curls his fingers and licks my clit, Maddox finally slides into my throat, and I gag, tears springing to my eyes as he bottoms out.
I’m stretched everywhere, filled everywhere, and it’s too much and not enough and I don’t know how to breathe but I don’t need to—
Because they’re breathing for me.
Asher’s hands on my waist, guiding me up and down on his cock.
Killian’s face buried between my legs again, sucking my clit into his mouth as he fucks me with three fingers now.
Maddox’s hands in my hair, setting the pace for my throat, letting me breathe in shallow gasps between deep, soul-deep presses.
I come first on Killian’s fingers—shaking, screaming, the sound muffled around Maddox’s cock as I convulse. I taste myself on his tongue when he lifts his head, kisses me deep, tongue thrusting like he’s fucking my mouth too.
“Again,” Asher growls. “Come on my cock, mon coeur. Squeeze me.”
Then he’s slamming into me, no more tease, no more patience, and I do—I come again, harder, my body bowing, my nails raking down his abs as I spill over his cock, over Killian’s fingers, over Maddox’s length still pumping between my lips.
He roars behind me—Asher—his body seizing as he comes inside me, hot and pulsing, and I feel it everywhere, in my bones, in my blood, like I’ve been marked.
They ease out, one by one, letting me collapse—but not for long.
I’m turned, guided to my knees on the couch, my face level with Killian’s lap. He’s watching me, chest heaving, cock hard and leaking in his fist. His hand comes up, gentle for once, and strokes my hair from my face.
I lean forward, desperate, wanting to taste him, to take him in, to make it up to him for every second of silence, every unanswered call, every time I turned away.
But he catches me by the back of the neck. Holds me still.
“Not yet,” he says. “You don’t get to suck me.”
My eyes widen. What? That’s not a punishment. That’s torture.
Maddox steps up behind me, grabs both my wrists in one big hand, yanks them behind my back. The other smacks my ass—sharp, stinging—making me yelp, bite my lip, arch into it.
“Be a good girl, sweetheart,” he says. “Or we’ll stop.”
I make a noise—frustrated, helpless, needful. How the hell am I supposed to not suck if his cock is in my mouth?
Killian strokes my hair again. “It’s just as much punishment for me as it is for you, princess.
” His voice is soft, raw. “I love how well you take my cock. Fuck, I’ve missed your mouth.
But after what I put you through during your debut event—ignoring you, letting you think you weren’t wanted—I don’t deserve to feel how good you feel.
And you could’ve reached out too. You didn’t have to carry it alone. ”
My chest tightens.
“Asher?” I gasp.
“Mhmm,” he hums, gaze flicking somewhere behind me. “He’s the only one of us in this that hasn’t fucked up.”
Maddox snorts. “Yet.”
Killian glares.
The air hums with history. With tension. With love tangled in regret.
Killian cups my face. “Rules are simple. You keep your lips open. You don’t close them around me. You don’t suck. You don’t move. Not until Asher says you can. Understood?”
I blink up at him. Nod.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper. “I’ll follow the rules.”
He smiles—soft, sad, proud. “Good girl.”
They shift. Killian guides the head of his cock to my lips. I part them. Let him in. Just the tip. Just the heat.
Maddox runs the length of his cock against my pussy—slow, slick, maddening—before driving into me balls deep, making me gasp, my lips threatening to close, my body trying to rise to meet him.
I force them open. Wide. Eyes locked on Killian’s face.
He watches me like he’s memorizing me. His jaw clenches. His breath comes harder. He fists his cock the rest of the way in, then stills, only letting me feel him pulse against my tongue.
Maddox doesn’t slow. Doesn’t stop. He fucks me hard, deep, one hand on my hip, the other in my hair, pulling just enough to make my back arch, my tears spill, my throat work around the unmet need.
I don’t close my lips. I don’t.
But I want to.
I want to hollow my cheeks and take him all the way. I want to show Killian how much I missed him, how much I forgive him, how much I need him.
But I can’t.
So I stay open. Wet. Panting. Trembling.
Killian’s neck is corded. His hands flex. His head falls back against the couch with a groan. “Fuck. Harper. I’m gonna—”
Then Asher’s voice—low, calm—cuts through the haze.
“Now, mon coeur.”
I close my lips.
Suck.
Hard.
Killian shatters—hips jerking forward, cock plunging deep as I take him to the root, throat working, tears streaming.
“FUCK!” he roars, fingers tightening in my hair. “Oh god—yes—take it—take all of it—”
Maddox growls behind me, grips my hair tighter, pulls me back so I’m arched against him, my mouth ripped from Killian’s cock as he slams into me one last time—deep, brutal—and comes with a curse, his other hand coming around to rub my clit in tight, frantic circles until I’m screaming again, clenching around him, coming so hard I see stars.
He kisses me—deep, filthy, claiming—then pulls out, letting me collapse just as Killian’s hands find me and I end up on my back.
Braced over me as he knees my legs a part, he strokes my hair. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Even when I’m an idiot. Even when I don’t say it. I love you.”
I smile through my haze, lifting my hands to his broad shoulders as he hitches my legs over his arms.
Killian braces above me, wild-eyed, mouth swollen from my biting kisses.
He thrusts, deep and hard, hitting that spot inside me that sends sparks from my toes to my scalp.
I’m split open on him, filled to the brim, and it’s not just physical anymore.
It’s deeper than that. He’s pushing past muscle and bone, past skin and breath, into something raw and unguarded neither of us dared touch before.
“Look at me,” he growls, slamming home again, making me sob. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing the tears streaking my temples. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”
I can’t. His gaze is a lighthouse in a hurricane.
Everything else falls away—the couch beneath us, the sounds of Asher and Maddox moving around us, the crackle of the fire, the whole damn world.
It’s just Killian. Just this. His sweat dripping onto my collarbone.
His hips pistoning between my thighs, driving him deeper, harder, like he’s trying to fuse us together.
“You feel that?” His voice shreds on the words. “That’s me, Harper. That’s all me. And it’s yours.”
I nod, frantic, nails digging into the corded muscles of his back. I score him, drag red lines down his skin, marking him as he’s marking me from the inside out. He hisses, lowers his mouth to my shoulder, bites. Not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to brand. Hard enough to claim.
“Again,” he grinds out. His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my throat, to expose me for his lips. He licks a hot stripe from my pulse to my jaw. “Come for me again, princess. I know you can.”
And I do. My body clamps around him, clenching tight, and a raw scream tears from my throat as the orgasm crashes through me, wave after wave, until I’m shaking, floating, gone. He keeps moving, no mercy, chasing his own release, driving me right back to the edge before I’ve even come down.
The second time, I’m sobbing, begging, and he’s breathing ragged promises into my mouth between deep, consuming kisses. “That’s it, baby. Give it to me. All of it. I’ve got you.”
He shifts, hitches my legs higher over his shoulders, and sinks so deep I gasp. The angle changes, hits something new, something perfect, and my eyes roll back. My hands fist in his hair, pulling him down to kiss me, to lick into my mouth like he’s trying to taste my soul.
“You’re mine,” he rasps against my lips. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I pant. “Yours, Killian. Always.”
He groans, a sound torn from the center of him, and his rhythm falters, becomes erratic, brutal. “One more. Give me one more.”
I don’t think I can. My body is spent, trembling, overstimulated.
But then his hand slips between us, thumb circling my clit, and I shatter all over again, my back bowing off the couch as I come with a broken cry, my core milking him.
He shouts my name, hips jerking, and I feel him pulse inside me, hot and endless, flooding me with his release.
He collapses, catching his weight on his forearms, his forehead pressed to mine as we both gasp for air.
For a moment, there’s only the sound of our breathing, ragged and syncopated. Then he huffs a soft, breathless chuckle, and a smile touches his lips as he looks down at me.
“Hey, princess.”
I smile up at him, hazy and spent. “Hey, mean King.”
“Mean King?” He snorts, not moving.
“I’m exhausted,” I sigh, my voice hoarse. “I’m allowed to have incoherent clapbacks.”
He chuckles again, soft and low, and finally slips out of me. I wince at the loss, the sudden empty ache, but then he’s gathering me into his arms, lifting me like I weigh nothing. I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him—sweat and sex and something uniquely Killian.
He carries me down the hall toward the master suite.
The sound of running water greets us, and the scent of lavender fills the air as we enter the bedroom.
The oversized tub is filling, steam curling off the surface.
Asher steps out of the shower, a towel wrapped low around his waist, water glistening on his chest. He nods at Killian, a silent exchange passing between them, then grabs another towel to dry his hair.
Maddox is in the shower now, the glass door fogged, his silhouette moving behind it. He turns as we enter, watches us through the haze, and gives a slow, satisfied smirk before ducking his head under the spray.
Killian lowers us into the tub. The water is warm, not hot, and I know why. My hand drifts to my lower stomach as I settle back against his chest. His arms come around me, holding me close, his chin resting atop my head.
“Love you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.
Our fingers find each other under the water, entwining. I lift our joined hands, guide them to cradle the curve of my belly beneath the surface. His breath hitches. He stills.
I tilt my head to look up at him, my cheek brushing his jaw. “Love you too.”
He turns his face, our lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s not about heat now. It’s about promise. About the life growing between us. About the four of us, tangled up in ways we’re still learning.
He rests his forehead against mine. “We’re having a baby.”
I smile. “We are.”
Asher finishes drying off, drapes his towel over a nearby chair, and comes to kneel beside the tub. He reaches in, brushes a wet curl from my cheek. “Feeling okay, mon coeur?”
I nod, leaning into his touch. “Better than okay.”
Maddox steps out of the shower, dripping, and grabs a towel. He saunters over, crouching on my other side. His knuckles brush my shoulder. “Look at you. All soft and sated.”
I reach for his hand, lace my fingers through his. “You helped.”
He smirks. “Damn right I did.”
Killian’s arms tighten around me. “We’re not ever letting you go.”
The words hang in the steam-filled air, a vow. Asher’s thumb strokes my cheek. Maddox presses a kiss to my knuckles. And Killian holds me, solid and sure, in the warm, lavender-scented water.
For the first time in a long time, everything feels right.