48. Finn
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Finn
I’ve always been good in a crisis.
In the keep people breathing, keep things moving, make it lighter so nobody notices how bad it actually is.
It’s a skill, a survival tactic, a personality flaw, depending on who you ask, but seeing Aurora cry has been awful. Even as she sits back on the living room rug, smiling weakly now, I need to act.
All I can do is cup my finger underneath her chin and bring her eyes up to meet mine. Bring my lips down to taste hers.
“Aurora,” I murmur. “Let us take care of you.”
She’s shaking, but her lips part and her eyes flicker with intense need. “You want to… take care of me?”
Ryder comes up beside me, taking her face between his hands. “Look at me, Aurora.”
Aurora lets him look at her. I can see the rivulets of mascara along her cheeks as tiny battle scars. She isn’t trying to hide. Hasn’t tried to hide from the moment she walked through our door, and that, as much as anything, is what devastates me.
That she trusts us to see her at her worst.
Ryder wipes Aurora’s cheeks with his thumbs, gentle as smoke, and slowly bends to kiss her. His mouth moves over hers, and her hips tip up to meet my hand. I can hear Zane behind me, holding himself back at the edge of the world and loving every desperate fucking second.
Aurora’s breaths hitch and tremble, nearly voiceless, and when I slip my palm up under her skirt, her thighs quiver and clamp around my hand. The fabric is almost weightless; the inside of her thigh, silky and fevered, is not.
Ryder breaks the kiss and watches while I drag two fingers up the seam of her panties. She’s so wet I can barely believe the damp comes from a single woman.
I run my fingertips in tiny pulsing ovals, feather light, teasing her lips apart, daring the heat to bloom. She gasps and arches, trying to bury her sobs in my shoulder, but there’s no hiding with three of us surrounding her.
I kiss the side of her face and her jaw, her pulse yowling in the fragile skin below her ear.
“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” Zane rumbles, voice coming apart on the rough edge of want.
He moves behind us, palm sliding over her shoulder and squeezing her nape before he nibbles Aurora’s ear, feather grazing it at first but then nipping hard enough to make her yelp.
She’s thrumming now, all synapses and tension, keening softly as I slip my fingers under the edge of her panties, fabric tight against her skin.
Aurora’s legs jerk, and her hips snap up, needy and seamless as a fever dream. I ease the panties aside and find her already there, already ready, hot as a sunstorm.
“Do you want us?” I murmur. “Is this what you need right now?”
I can feel her body trembling, can feel the desperate yes in the way her whole existence is straining toward sensation, and I want to hear her say it.
She clamps her teeth around her bottom lip. “Yes. I need you. All of you.”
She’s begging with her body before her mouth finishes the sentence.
She opens her legs wider, lets me wedge myself between them and push her knees apart.
I slide my hand up her thigh and hook two fingers deep inside her. The air comes out of her lungs in a sharp, flayed sound, more a sob than a moan, and I want to knock the world down to keep her inside this perfect moment.
Nothing but sensation, nothing but the taste of skin and the animal heat where our bodies meet.
This is what she needs. This is what we all need, after days of hollowing out the insides just to keep standing upright.
Ryder pulls her sweater down to her elbows, pinning her arms, leaving her collarbones jagged and exposed as the rails of a train track.
Zane pushes down on her shoulder, pinioning her on the rug, with me going with her. He’s already unbuttoned his jeans and drags out his cock, thick and terrifyingly hard, jerking it once, twice, prepping a weapon.
Aurora arches up toward him, sweat pearling along her brow, and hisses loud as a wildcat as I twist my fingers in and up, finding the exact patch of nerves that makes her go electric.
Zane shifts his grip, cock pressed to Aurora’s lips, and she takes him greedily, as if hungry for punishment.
Her jaw flexes, lines of strain along her throat as Zane fists a hand in her hair and guides her onto him. I’m hypnotized by the twitch of her lips, the shine of spit, the way her eyes never leave mine even as she gags and coughs around Zane’s cock.
She’s so fucking beautiful, lips stretched, skin flushed, trembling on the ragged border of both pleasure and pain.
I want to dive in and drown.
I want to taste the salt at her throat, the tears in her eyes.
She’s gagging, yes, but she’s clawing at Zane’s hip, digging in, dragging him closer because she’s starving for this.
I pull my hand out, use my thumb to circle her clit as Zane throbs against her tongue. Her eyes are sharp, wet with tears but defiant as ever, glittering. She wants to be undone so badly she’s willing to split open for it.
Zane lets out a ragged groan, his hand shaking on her head. He’s not going to last, not with Aurora’s mouth working him because it’s the only thing tethering her to this planet.
Ryder’s knees are on either side of Aurora’s hips, bracing her, pinning her tight.
Zane pulls back, letting Aurora breathe, and I catch her cheeks in my palms, kiss her all teeth and tongue.
Ryder grinds against her, the heat between all of us a palpable smog, thick enough to chew. He’s rutting against her, his cock wetly branding the inside of her thigh as he strokes himself against her, prepping her, teasing both of them to the edge.
He’s not even bothering with gentle. There’s no gentle here, not when what Aurora needs is the vicious, messy collision of all our bodies, the way pain and need combust, the way all three of us are coming apart onto her and into her and through her, needles flossing the nerves raw and bright.
I shift down, press my mouth to the inside of her knee, bite until I taste salt, then trail up, licking the sweat sheen off her thigh. I want to leave marks all the way up, from her ankle to her hip, and I do, mouth hungry, tongue flat and scraping, until she’s writhing against Ryder’s cock.
Ryder slides his cock up along the seam of her, then back down, using the spill of my fingers as lube until both of them are frantic from friction.
Aurora’s hands scrabble at the carpet, and she’s gasping Ryder’s name, eyes rolling, but it’s my voice in her ear, my teeth snapping at the planet’s crust, holding her together while Ryder does his best to split her in two.
He pushes into her in one savage motion, and Aurora’s back bows so sharply I think she might actually snap. She makes this wailing sound, half agony, half bliss, and the three of us freeze, briefly pause, the old predator’s instinct of will she run? will she break? flicking between us.
Aurora bears it all, riding the shockwave, her fingers clawed into Ryder’s hair, dragging his face down until she’s biting his mouth.
Ryder fucks her the way you’d charge through a burning house: there’s a rawness to it, a speed that’s almost self-destructive. He’s not gentle, not even pretending to be, pistoning in with a force that says: let this break you.
She takes it.
She shudders with every thrust, nails digging into his shoulder blades, head thrown back in wild ecstasy.
Zane kneels over her, fucking her mouth again, his cock pulsing inside her lips, and I am pressed up against her side, my hand in her hair, my tongue on her neck, all three of us a single spasm of drive.
I’m so hard it’s a liability.
My cock aches so as Zane finally pulls out and spurts hot up her throat, triggering another round of gagging and sobbing, her fingers convulsing, scrabbling for something to crush, I move fast.
I cup her cheek and drag my tongue over her jaw, cleaning the trickle that escapes the seal of her lips.
I want to devour her whole body, drown myself in everything that comes off her in waves, anguish and surrender and the salty animal tang of what only she gives us.
Zane’s hand is a vise on her nape, and I see his thumb stroking her skin, a lover’s touch, or a reinforcement of ownership, the boundary line between obsession and relief, never letting her forget she is ours and always will be.
Ryder fucks her so hard my teeth vibrate.
I can barely focus, can barely do anything except hold on to her leg and her voice and that high, wild sound she makes every time he slams home.
There’s nothing else but sound and heat, and I realize my own hips are grinding into the rug, searching for friction, desperate for somewhere to spill all this useless voltage already arcing off my skin.
I want to fuck her and be fucked by her, to be folded into the churning core of this moment and not care if it ends before it does.
When Aurora orgasms, it’s a seizure: every muscle locking, every sound torn out of her throat, she’s falling in reverse.
Ryder groans, low and guttural, and when I look at his face, it’s wet, a streak of awe or grief turning his jaw slack. He’s feeling it too. The massive, tectonic relief, the gratitude, the fucking ferocity of her dissolving right beneath us.
I keep my hand at the base of her throat, feeling the aftershocks travel down the column of her neck, her pulse stampeding so hard I can’t get enough.
That’s when I make my move, pinning her on her back as I press my cock against her. She gets it instantly, mashing her tits together with both hands, slick from sweat and spit and maybe a little bit of Zane still, and I thrust into the gorge between them.
My cock slips through the soft press of her flesh, and the heat is insane. The skin there is so new, so delicate, and I nearly bust before I even set the pace.
Every slam of my hips is a shudder through the braided cable of her spine. My hands roam, greedy: one on the clutch of her breast, the other on her thigh, claimed and canted wide to give me runway.
I growl, low and guttural, into her cleavage, and she looks up at me, mouth open, hungry for more, eating the sound I make as I start to lose control.
Zane’s fingers are in her hair, tangling, guiding her face towards my cock, and when she licks the tip, hot and insistent, I nearly black out.
Her tongue is heaven, rough with greed, and so patient I want to die just to feel relief from the hunger she stokes in me.
I stop, right before the edge, and she laughs, a wounded, nasty sound, as if she wants to see what happens when I have to wait my fucking turn as she is.
Zane peels her off the rug and sets her down on my lap, and now it’s her turn to drive: she grabs my cock, lines it up, and impales herself so fast I can’t even breathe.
She clenches around me, still trembling, and rides as if she wants to strip every last shred of sadness from her body.
Zane braces her waist from behind, fingers digging in so tight there’ll be bruises, and together they slam me into the floor, an avalanche I can barely survive. She grinds down, hard and mean.
My entire world reduces to a pinhole version of her as her pussy clamps and tightens around me, milking the orgasm from me. Once I start shooting my seed, I’m sure it’ll never end, and honestly, I don’t want it to.
This, to me, is heaven.
This is home.