11. Roman Osprey
Roman Osprey
His gaze drops to her mouth, then to our joined hands. Heat moves through our bond, carrying Wes’s satisfaction and want strongly enough that I don’t need to guess what he thinks of finding Scarlet beside me, her hand still wrapped around mine.
“What did you bring?” Scarlet asks.
He hands her one of the bags. “Fried mullet. Hush puppies. Slaw.”
Her whole face lights up with pleasure before she catches it.
Wes’s shoulders roll back and settle with satisfaction. He lowers himself beside her on the opposite side, broad shoulders damp from rain. Between us, her body eases almost instantly, one side warmed by my arm and the other by Wes’s thigh. Her scent opens until the dock smells like honey.
We eat from the paper containers while the storm shifts across the swamp. He watches Scarlet steal two of his hush puppies after finishing her own.
I lift my brow in question, wondering if he will say anything.
“I bought extra because I knew she’d steal mine.” Wes looks toward the water as if he didn’t just hand her proof that he’s already learning her.
Her chewing slows. Scarlet’s hand finds his forearm. She doesn’t seem to realize she has reached until her fingers are already resting against him. “Thank you,” she says.
His attention returns to her face. “You’re welcome.”
Thunder rolls closer. The rain thickens from mist to a steady fall, tapping against the dock and the paper containers.
“We should move inside,” I say.
Scarlet doesn’t release Wes as she stands.
He gathers the food with his free hand. The three of us make it to the house half wet and laughing, because Scarlet nearly slides on the walkway, blames Wes for owning impractical rainboots, and then insists she had the situation under control while holding both our arms.
Once we’re inside, the storm closes off the rest of the world.
Scarlet sets the leftovers on the kitchen counter. Wes locks the back door out of habit, checks the screen latch, and turns.
The air in the room changes. We’re no longer sitting under open sky with food between us and the swamp giving us places to look that aren’t each other.
Scarlet stands near the table in her strawberry shorts and cropped tank, her hair curling around her face. Her scent is warm enough to make Wes’s pupils widen.
He looks at me first.
I nod once.
He doesn’t need my permission to want her. It’s more a recognition that we’re in the same place.
Scarlet follows the exchange. “You two are doing that silent pack conversation again.”
“Yes,” I say.
“What are you saying?”
Wes steps closer but stops outside her reach. “That Roman kissed you.”
Her chin lifts. “I kissed him too.”
“I saw.”
The rough approval in his voice makes her scent spike.
Wes’s gaze moves over her face. “Do you want me to kiss you too?”
Scarlet’s breath catches. Her attention moves to me.
I remain where I am, close enough to reach and far enough that she isn’t pressured. “You don’t have to choose between us.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Her gaze drops to my mouth, then moves back to Wes.
Whatever she sees between us answers the question.
“Yes,” she says. “I want both of you.”
Wes crosses the remaining distance. He cups her jaw and kisses her with more restraint than his scent suggests he possesses. Scarlet grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until control gives way to hunger. His other hand settles at her waist.
My cock goes hard watching them.
Scarlet makes a soft, needy sound into his mouth, and Wes answers with a low purr that vibrates through the kitchen.
I move behind her slowly, my hands settling on her hips.
She leans into me without breaking the kiss. The trust in that small movement nearly brings me to my knees.
Wes lifts his mouth from hers. His forehead rests briefly against hers while they breathe. “What do you want?” he asks. “Say it clearly.”
Her green eyes flash. “I want you both to touch me.”
Wes’s expression turns intensely satisfied. “Good omega.”
Her knees soften.
I catch her around the waist, brushing my mouth to the curve of her shoulder. Her scent grows sweeter beneath my lips. “Bedroom?” I ask.
Scarlet’s body stiffens for half a second.
“Living room,” Wes says. “No closed doors.”
She relaxes. “Living room.”
We move together without rushing her. Scarlet sits on the couch. I lower myself beside her while Wes kneels in front of her, broad hands resting on his thighs.
The position puts him below her eyeline.
Her expression softens.
“You said both, but what does that mean to you?” I ask.
Her fingers twist together in her lap. “I don’t know how to answer that without sounding greedy.”
Wes looks up at her. “Try.”
“I want…” Her gaze moves between us. “I want to stop thinking for a while.”
“That isn’t greedy,” I tell her.
Wes’s hands settle atop her knees. “Can I touch you under the shorts?”
Heat rolls through her scent. “Yes.”
He slides his palms slowly up her thighs, giving her time to change her mind. Scarlet’s legs open by degrees, breath turning shallow as his thumbs pass beneath the loose hem.
I kiss her.
She turns toward me, one hand catching at my neck. Her mouth opens beneath mine.
She trembles.
“So wet,” he says, voice rough with pride.
Scarlet makes an embarrassed sound and pulls away from my mouth as she tries to close her thighs.
Wes holds them open gently. “Don’t hide from us.”
“You’re so beautiful and sexy.” My mouth moves along her jaw. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“You two are fully dressed.”
“That can be corrected,” I say.
Her laugh breaks into a gasp.
She grips my shirt.
Wes watches her face. “More?”
“Yes.”
He repeats the stroke.
Scarlet’s head falls against my shoulder, her purr starting low in her chest. The sound pulls every beta instinct I possess toward her. I slide one hand beneath the hem of her tank. “Can I?”
“Please.”
My palm moves along the warm skin of her stomach until my fingers cup her breast. Scarlet arches into the touch, and her nipple tightens against my palm while my thumb circles the sensitive peak.
Wes pulls her underwear aside. The first direct stroke across her clit makes her cry out. “Look at me,” Wes says.
Scarlet opens her eyes.
He holds her gaze while two fingers slide through her slick, coating them before circling her clit again. Her hand reaches blindly toward me and lands against the hard line of my cock beneath my pants.
I groan.
Scarlet freezes. “Was that okay?”
I cover her hand with mine. “More than okay.”
Her confidence returns in a slow, dangerous curve of her mouth.
She strokes me through the fabric.
Wes purrs in appreciation.
I unfasten my pants enough to free my cock, keeping every movement visible.
Scarlet looks down, and her scent changes again, honey turning warmer and fuller. “I want to touch you,” she says.
“Please do.”
Her fingers wrap around me.
My control fractures around the edges. “Fuck.”
Scarlet looks delighted by my reaction. Wes rubs the heel of his hand against her clit at the same time. She jerks between us, grip tightening around my cock. I push into her hand before I can stop myself.
Wes’s mouth brushes her knee. “That’s it. Touch him while I touch you.”
Scarlet strokes me slowly at first, learning the weight of me and the way my breath changes when her thumb passes over the head.
I move my hand beneath her tank again and pinch her nipple gently. She moans.
“So responsive,” Wes says. “Such a good girl.”
Her face burns, but her body answers with more slick. “I hate both of you,” she says on a gasp.
“No, you don’t,” Wes says. “You’re opening for my hand and stroking Roman like you’ve wanted this for days.”
The words make the sweet scent of her slick fill the room.
I drag my mouth along her jaw. “Have you?”
“Yes.” Her honesty comes out breathless.
“What did you want?” I ask.
Scarlet’s grip tightens. “I wanted to know what you felt like.”
My hips jerk into her palm. “And Wes?” I ask.
Her gaze drops to where his hand disappears beneath her shorts. “I wanted him to make me stop holding everything together.”
Wes’s eyes darken. “Then let me.”
One finger slides through her slick and teases her entrance. The sound she makes turns my thoughts white at the edges. Wes works her slowly, thumb circling her clit while his finger presses deeper. Her hand keeps moving on my cock.
I kiss her until her breathing breaks apart.
“Come for us,” Wes says.
Scarlet shakes her head, overwhelmed. “I’m trying.”
“That’s the problem.” His voice drops into the velvet command that makes her whole body answer. “Stop trying. Let us do it.”
I kiss the place beneath her ear. “We’ve got you.”
Moments later, her first orgasm takes her hard. Scarlet cries out and folds toward me, hand still locked around my cock while her thighs shake around Wes. Her purr breaks into a rough, helpless sound. Wes doesn’t stop.
“Wes.”
“That was one.”
Her stomach quivers. “Cocky alpha.”
“Yes.”
I laugh against her neck, though it turns into a groan when she strokes me.
Wes shifts closer, his shoulder pressing against her inner thigh while he works her through the sensitivity. Scarlet tries to pull away.
His free hand settles at her hip. “Stay.”
“Breathe,” I whisper. “You can let go. We’ve got you.”
Her second orgasm builds slower. I feel it in the tightening of her fingers, the way her purr climbs, the way her whole body turns toward us instead of searching for escape.
When pleasure breaks through her again, she buries her face in my neck.
Wes purrs like he’s proud of himself. “Two,” he says.
“I can count,” she mumbles.
“Then you know we’re not done.”
Scarlet laughs weakly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re still holding Roman’s cock.”
She looks down as though she has forgotten. Then she strokes me harder.
My control snaps. “Scarlet.”
She turns her face toward mine.
I cover her hand and guide the rhythm because I’m too close to pretend otherwise. “Keep looking at me.”
Her green eyes stay on mine.
Wes slips a second finger inside her and it nearly pulls me over the edge with the sound she makes.
“Tell him,” Wes says.
Her breathing stutters. “Tell him what?”
“How good he feels.”
Scarlet’s voice shakes. “So good.”
“More.”
She looks at me. “I wanted this. Wanted to touch you. Wanted to make you lose control.”
I groan and come into her hand. Scarlet watches every second, her lips parted and her scent turning rich with satisfaction. I kiss her as the last pulse moves through me.
Wes makes her cry into my mouth and her third orgasm hits. Her hand goes slack around me while her whole body locks and trembles. Wes keeps her safe through it, one hand working between her thighs and the other steady at her hip.
The room is filled with Scarlet’s scent, sweet and fully satisfied.
Wes slows at last. He withdraws his fingers carefully and rubs circles against her thigh rather than taking his hands away all at once.
I kiss her temple, her cheek, and the corner of her mouth. “You with us?”
Scarlet nods, boneless against me.
“Words,” Wes says, gentler now.
“Yes.”
“Anything hurt?”
“No.”
“Too much?”
She opens one eye. “Ask me after I regain ownership of my limbs.”
His mouth nearly smiles.
I reach for the towel folded beneath the evidence folders on the coffee table, then reconsider and grab a clean dish towel from the armchair instead.
Scarlet watches me clean her hand and then mine. A flush climbs into her face.
I kiss her knuckles before embarrassment can find a foothold. “No shame,” I tell her.
Wes pulls her shorts and underwear back into place with careful hands. Then he rises, disappears into the kitchen, and returns with water. “Drink.”
Scarlet accepts the glass without arguing.
It might be the most convincing evidence of exhaustion yet.
Wes sits beside her. I shift to the other side, and Scarlet ends up held between us beneath the quilt from the couch.
Her head rests against my chest, her legs stretched across Wes’s lap while his palm moves slowly along her shin.
A purr rolls out of her again. This time, she doesn’t deny it. Wes’s purr answers, deep enough to vibrate through the couch. I press my mouth to her hair.
Scarlet’s eyes drift closed. “This doesn’t mean I’m suddenly easy to manage.”
“God forbid,” I say.
Wes rubs his thumb against her ankle. “You’re not a problem to manage.”
Her eyes open. The words must have reached a place inside her that pleasure didn’t.
Wes holds her gaze. “You asked. We listened. That’s all.”
Scarlet looks down at the quilt covering the three of us. “Can we stay here for a while?”
“Yes,” I say.
Wes’s arm settles along the back of the couch behind us. “As long as you need.”
The investigation remains spread across the kitchen table. The disabled cameras, the muddy residue, and the missing Love Stone will still be there when the storm passes.
For now, Scarlet is warm between us, her scent soft and satisfied, her purr moving through the room like the house has finally learned a new language.
I don’t know what will become of the three of us. I only know none of us seems ready for the moment to end.