Chapter eight #2
"You smell incredible," I murmur against her skin. "Sweet and wet and ready. I've been dreaming about this taste for three days."
"Knox, please," she begs, breathless.
"Please what? Tell me. Use your words."
"Your mouth. On me. Now."
"Since you asked so nicely." I press my mouth to her center.
The sound she makes is not human. It's omega, primal and raw, a keening cry that comes from somewhere deep in her chest. Her hips buck against my face, and her hands fly to my hair, gripping hard enough to sting.
She tastes exactly like the dream. Honey and salt and something darker underneath, something musky and sweet and purely her.
My tongue sweeps through her folds, gathering slick, and I groan against her because the taste is intoxicating.
Addicting. I could die between her thighs and consider it a life well lived.
I find her clit and circle it with my tongue. Slow. Deliberate. Not enough to make her come, just enough to make her shake. Her thighs clamp around my head, then release, then clamp again, like she can't decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.
"Don't stop," she gasps. "Don't, Knox…"
I don't stop. I alternate between broad, flat strokes of my tongue and sharp, targeted flicks against her clit. Her slick is coating my chin, my lips, running down my throat. I slide two fingers inside her, long, slow, deliberate, and curl them upward.
She screams.
I feel her channel clamp around my fingers, tight and pulsing, the rhythmic squeeze of an omega on the edge. I add a third finger, stretching her, and the sound she makes, somewhere between a moan and a sob, makes my cock jerk so hard against my zipper that I see stars.
"That's it," I growl against her clit. "Feel how open you are? Feel how ready? My fingers are inside you, Willow, and you're taking them so well. But this is just the beginning. By the time we're done with you, you're going to be so full you can't breathe."
She moans, long, desperate, and broken.
"Knox." Deklan's voice, from somewhere above Willow's head. Low. Controlled. But fraying. "Let me."
I look up. Deklan has moved closer, and his mouth is near Willow's. Her head is tilted back, her neck exposed, her lips parted. Deklan's hand cups her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip.
Willow's eyes flutter open. She looks at Deklan, dark-eyed, steady, the man who knelt for her, and her expression shifts. Softens. Ignites.
"Deklan," she whispers. "Please."
He kisses her.
It's not the controlled, precise kiss I would have expected from him.
It's deep and hungry, his mouth claiming hers with a desperation that's almost frightening.
His hand slides from her face to her breast, and he rolls her nipple between his fingers, gentle at first, then harder, pinching, pulling, and she writhes between us.
I watch. My mouth is still on her, my fingers still inside her, but I watch Deklan kiss her. I watch the way her hands come up and grip his shoulders. I watch the way his controlled facade crumbles, jaw tightening, breath ragged, the strategist losing the war against the man.
It's the most erotic thing I've ever witnessed.
I double my efforts. My tongue works her clit in rapid, tight circles while my fingers stroke inside her, curving, pressing, finding that spot that makes her back arch off the nest. She's moaning into Deklan's mouth, the sounds muffled but unmistakable, and her channel is getting tighter. Clenching harder. Closer.
"Come for us," I murmur against her. "Come on my tongue, Willow. Let go."
Deklan pinches her nipple, I suck her clit, and she shatters.
The orgasm rips through her like a detonation.
Her back arches, her thighs clamp around my head, and her inner walls convulse around my fingers, clamping, releasing, clamping again.
Slick floods my hand, my chin, my chest. She screams into Deklan's mouth, and he swallows the sound, his arms wrapping around her, holding her together while she flies apart.
I work her through it. Slower now. Easing off as the aftershocks roll through her. My tongue gentles, my fingers still, and I press soft kisses to her inner thighs as the tremors fade.
When I finally pull back, she's lying in the nest with her eyes closed, chest heaving, limbs loose. Deklan is pressed against her side, his mouth against her temple, his hand stroking her hair.
She looks wrecked. Beautiful. And we haven't even started.
I look at JD.
He hasn't moved from the foot of the bed. His dark eyes are nearly black, his jaw so tight I can see the muscle jumping. Every muscle locked. Every line rigid.
But his eyes are on Willow. And the look in them, hunger, yes, but also reverence. Awe. The look of a man standing at the edge of something sacred.
"JD," Willow says. Her voice is a whisper, but it carries. "Come here."
The Alpha moves. He strips off his pants, no hesitation, no ceremony, and the moment his cock is free, Willow's eyes go wide.
I don't blame her. JD is... substantial. Thick and long. The kind of cock that makes a person reconsider their life choices. And at the base, his knot is already swollen, a dense, heavy bulge that's going to stretch her beyond anything she's experienced.
"Knox prepared you," JD says. His voice is gravel. "But if you need more time…"
"I don't need more time." Willow reaches for him. "I need you."
JD settles between her thighs, and I move to the side, not leaving, just making room. My place is at her hip, my hand on her waist, my mouth available for whatever she needs.
Deklan stays at her head. His hand strokes her hair, his lips press occasional kisses to her forehead, her temples. Steady and grounding.
JD braces himself above her. His cock rests against her stomach, hot, heavy, the length of it spanning from her mound to her navel. His arms are on either side of her shoulders, caging her in, and his black eyes bore into hers.
"Last chance," he says. "Last chance to say no."
"I've been saying no my whole life," Willow whispers. "I want to say yes."
She reaches between them, wraps her hand around his cock, and guides him to her entrance. JD groans. A deep, full-body sound that vibrates through the bed. His hips flex, and the head of his cock pushes inside her.
Willow's mouth falls open and her eyes widen. Her inner walls clench around him, tight, wet, resistance and surrender, and JD stops. Holds. Gives her body time to adjust.
"More," she gasps. "JD, more."
He gives her more. Inch by inch, he sinks into her, and I watch, I watch his cock disappear inside her, watch her body stretch to accommodate him, watch the way her slick eases the passage. The sight is obscene and beautiful, and I am so hard it's killing me.
When he's fully seated inside her, his hips flush against hers, his cock buried to the knot, JD goes still. His forehead drops to her shoulder. His breath comes in ragged gasps.
"Willow," he says against her skin. "You feel, Christ, you feel…"
"I know." Her voice breaks. "I know. Move. Please. Move."
He moves. The first thrust is slow. Deliberate. A long, dragging withdrawal and a deep, filling return. Willow moans, a sound I feel in my spine, and her hands grip JD's shoulders, fingernails digging in.
The second thrust is harder. Faster. The sound of their bodies meeting, skin on skin, wet with slick, fills the room. Obscene and beautiful.
The third thrust makes her scream.
I can't look away. I can't stop watching. JD is above her, massive and dark and powerful, his hips snapping forward with a rhythm that's building in intensity. Willow is beneath him, arching, writhing, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, her mouth open, her eyes glazed.
And Deklan is at her head, whispering to her. I can't hear the words, too quiet, too private, but I can see the effect. Willow's expression softens even as her body convulses. She turns her head, finds Deklan's mouth, and kisses him.
The kiss is different from before. Not hungry but desperate and tender. Like she's anchoring herself to him while JD's thrusts threaten to sweep her away.
I lean down and put my mouth on her breast. Her nipple is hard, peaked, and I take it between my lips and suck. She makes a sound, muffled by Deklan's mouth, and her hand flies to my hair, gripping.
Three men. Three points of contact. One omega.
JD's rhythm falters. His thrusts become shorter, harder, more urgent, and I know what's happening: his knot is inflating. The thick base of his cock is swelling, catching on her entrance with every withdrawal, stretching her wider with every push.
"Willow," JD growls. "I can't, I'm going to…"
"Do it," she gasps. "Knot me. JD, please!"
He thrusts forward one last time, and his knot seats itself fully inside her.
Willow screams. Not in pain, in overwhelming, blinding pleasure. Her body locks around him, her inner walls clamping down on the swollen base, and JD roars. The sound is pure Alpha, primal, guttural, and echoing off the walls.
He comes. I can see it, the way his body tenses, pumping rope after rope of cum deep into her core. Willow's eyes roll back, and her body convulses, another orgasm crashing through her, triggered by the knot, by the heat of his release filling her.
I watch her come. I watch JD come. I watch the bond begin to form, the invisible, biological link that will tie them together permanently. And I feel it. Not the full bond, that's JD's and Willow's, but an echo. A resonance. The triple match pulsing through all of us, connecting us.
When the wave passes, JD collapses. Carefully, bracing his weight on his elbows so he doesn't crush her. His face is buried in her neck, and he's whispering something, her name, maybe, or words I'm not meant to hear.
Willow is trembling. Tears stream from the corners of her eyes, not sad tears, but the kind that come when something is too big, too intense, too much for the body to contain.
Her hands stroke JD's back, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, and her lips curve into a smile so bright it hurts to look at.
"JD," she whispers.