24. Gunnar
Chapter twenty-four
Gunnar
I pull out of Aisling, and she’s quick to let Rook fall from her lips, shooting me a glare that could start fires if it wasn’t dripping with need. “Gunnar,” she snarls, all omega fire and brimstone, “you better not stop now. Knot me.”
I can’t help the laugh that rumbles through my chest, and I scoop her up into my arms, loving the wildness in her stormy grey eyes. “I’ve got something else in mind, Ais.” She cocks an eyebrow, all challenge. “And what’s that?”
“Your ass,” I say, straightforward as a bullet. “I’m going to knot you there. Let the others have their turn with you.”
Her breath hitches, a mix of shock and anticipation, and I feel her body tremble with excitement against mine.
I sit down on the bed, her wedding dress, white as her pale skin, pooling around our hips. She moans—a deep, primal sound—as I get her positioned on my lap. Her slick is all over me, a reminder of where we’ve been, and I spread her legs wide, lining myself up with her tightest entrance.
The others are like wolves, edging closer, eyes glued to the spectacle. I catch Nero’s gaze, the bastard smirking like he’s just won the jackpot. He knows exactly what’s about to happen.
“Ready?” I whisper into Aisling’s ear.
“Yes…please,” she breathes back.
Fuck yes.
I push into her, feeling her body give way to my insistence. Her gasp is music to my ears, a symphony of pleasure and pain as I thrust deeper, until I’m fully seated and her ass clenches around my knot.
I can’t help but chuckle at her expression—a mix of frustration and desire—as she gasps, the frown etching deeper between her brows. The sight is too damn irresistible. With a growl that rumbles from deep within my chest, I reach around to cup her breasts, thumbs circling over the hardened peaks, teasing them into even stiffer points.
“Relax,” I murmur, watching her reactions as closely as I’m tracking the movements of the others.
Luka, that unpredictable force of nature, is already stroking himself with an intense focus in his eyes, clearly eager for his turn. Oberon, ever the steadfast one, trails his fingers up and down Rook’s spine, sending shivers through the beta who barely contains his own hunger.
They’re all wolves on the edge, their restraint hanging by a thread, waiting for my say-so—because Aisling is mine before anyone else’s, and they all damn well know it.
The air is thick with the musk of desire, the kind that worms its way under your skin and sets every nerve alight with anticipation. I give Oberon a nod, a silent command that he’s been waiting for, and he steps forward like he’s bewitched, drawn in by the gravity of the omega in my arms.
Oberon’s hands are gentle as he takes hold of Aisling’s thighs, his palms rough against her smooth skin. He aligns himself with her dripping pussy, and I watch, fascinated, as he presses in just slightly, the head of his cock breaching her entrance. I watch as his cock disappears into her hungry cunt, and I shudder as I feel her tense.
“Take it slow,” I order, my voice a low growl. “She’s still tight.”
“Got it,” Oberon mutters, his gaze locked on where their bodies meet.
Aisling lets out a soft, keening sound that cuts right through me, stoking the fire that’s already threatening to consume us all. I tighten my hold on her, possessive and protective all at once, feeling the power that courses through this room, through these bonds we’ve forged in blood and lust.
“Good girl,” I whisper in her ear, feeling her melt further into my embrace. “Just let go and feel it all.”
I can’t help but groan as Oberon starts to move inside her, his thrusts shallow at first, then growing deeper and more confident. The pressure of his cock against mine through the wall separating Aisling’s ass from her pussy is an indescribable sensation. It’s almost too much, the way her inner muscles clench around my knot, squeezing me like she never wants to let go.
“Fuck, that’s tight,” I grunt, feeling a bead of sweat roll down my temple. Aisling’s head lolls back onto my shoulder, her breaths coming in short gasps as Oberon finds his rhythm. My beautiful bride, still dressed in white…taking two cocks at the same time.
“Doing so good for us, Aisling,” I murmur into her ear, peppering kisses along her jawline. “Just like that.”
Oberon braces himself on my shoulders, using me for leverage as he fucks Aisling with a steady pace, her feet draped over his arms. It’s a sight that would break a lesser man, but all it does is fuel my desire, driving me closer to the edge with every passing second.
Across the room, Luka and Rook are like statues carved from flesh and sin, stroking themselves lazily. Luka stands; Rook lounges in a chair in the corner, lips parted. Their eyes are locked on Aisling, dark with lust, their cocks hard and ready. Nero, ever the hedonist, saunters over to where a bottle of champagne rests on a nearby table. His fingers wrap around the neck of a fresh bottle of champagne, lifting it effortlessly, muscles flexing in his tattooed shoulders.
“Never thought I’d enjoy watching this much,” he drawls, popping the cork with a practiced flick of his wrist. Champagne fizzes over the rim, but Nero doesn’t waste a drop, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long, deep swig. His gaze, hooded and intense, never leaves Aisling as she writhes between Oberon and me.
“Keep going,” I urge Oberon, feeling Aisling’s body clench tighter around us both. “Make her feel it all.”
Nero sets the bottle aside, amber liquid spilling over his hand, and strokes himself, his movements mirroring those of Luka and Rook. His eyes glint with something primal, a hunger that goes beyond the physical. He’s watching us, taking it all in, committing every detail to memory.
“Christ, Gunnar,” Oberon pants, his grip on my shoulders tightening. “She’s…incredible.”
“Damn right,” I growl, my voice strained with effort as I hold back my own climax. Aisling’s small hands clutch at my forearms, her nails digging in just enough to sting—a perfect mix of pain and pleasure.
“Keep it up, boys,” Nero taunts, his voice laced with amusement. “You’re putting on quite the performance.”
I focus, hyper-aware of the heat, the friction, the way Oberon’s pace becomes erratic. The room is charged with desire, each breath, each moan from Aisling a testament to the raw, carnal dance we’re locked in.
“More,” she gasps, and I swear there’s a hint of stars in her grey eyes as they meet mine, pleading for the release she craves.
“Easy, love,” I murmur, my voice rough with the strain of holding back. “We’ll get you there.”
Oberon’s movements grow more desperate, his breaths coming in sharp gasps until, with a guttural groan that seems to echo off the walls, he reaches his peak. His body shudders, and I feel the pulse of his release.
Fuck…fuck, fuck , it feels good.
As Oberon pulls out, a trail of pearly cum follows, dripping onto my balls. Without missing a beat, I slip my hand between us, pushing Oberon’s cum back into Aisling’s pussy, claiming it as part of our shared connection. Aisling lets out a whimper, a sound so sweet and raw it nearly undoes me.
“God, Aisling,” Oberon pants, stepping back, his legs barely supporting him.
Nero smirks from the sidelines, raising the champagne bottle to his lips again, his free hand still working himself leisurely.
“Next,” I grunt, my gaze locking onto Luka. I can’t help but feel a twinge of possessiveness as he comes forward, hungry and eager.
Luka needs no further prompting; his eyes, dark with lust, stay fixed on Aisling’s body as if she’s the only thing that exists in this forsaken world. He strokes himself once, a rough, hasty motion that speaks volumes of his pent-up desire. Without hesitation, he aligns himself with her entrance.
“Go gentle,” I warn him through gritted teeth, but there’s approval in my voice as I watch him push into her. Aisling’s gasp is music to my ears, and I groan, feeling her clench around me even as Luka fills her up.
“God, so tight,” Luka breathes out, beginning to move inside her.
Aisling whimpers beneath us, her delicate form quaking as she tries to accommodate the intrusion. I wrap an arm around her, pulling her against my chest. The skirt of her ruined wedding dress flutters like a ghost around our sweat-slicked bodies.
“Shh, you’re doing perfect,” I whisper, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. My lips trail soft kisses over her skin, tasting the salt of her. I can’t help but murmur those sweet nothings, trying to ease the edge from her whimpers.
“Beautiful…mine…” I breathe out the words, each one laced with a promise and a plea.
Her response is a soft moan, barely audible over the sound of flesh meeting flesh. But I hear it, I feel it vibrating through my bones, and it drives me wilder.
“Fuck, Gunnar,” Luka grunts, his rhythm growing more confident as he finds his pace, “she’s incredible.”
“Only the best for our pack,” I say, a growl mixing with my voice as I thrust into her ass, matching Luka’s tempo. Our movements become a synchronised dance, pushing and pulling Aisling between us.
“Yours,” she manages to choke out, her words slurring together into a symphony of pleasure.
“Always.” It’s a vow from deep within me, one that holds the weight of our shared fate, our tangled lives in this dystopian chaos where love and power fight for dominance.
And right now, in this moment, I know we are all consumed by both.
Her back arches against me, and her moans vibrate between our tangled lips. Luka’s thrusts grow more insistent, each one hitting a spot inside Aisling that sends shivers up my spine.
“Give it to me,” she gasps against my mouth, an echo of the hunger that claws at my insides.
“Keep it up, Luka,” I hiss through gritted teeth, feeling the tension coil tighter in my gut. I grip Aisling’s hips, steadying her as we move together.
“Ah, fuck…” Luka’s voice is strained, his breath hot on Aisling’s flushed skin. His body stiffens, and then he groans, deep and guttural, as he spills himself inside her. The sound rips through the air, a declaration, a surrender.
I can feel the added warmth of him inside her, a testament to his release. Aisling’s belly seems slightly swollen from being so full of cum, and it’s almost too much—the intimate knowledge that she’s carrying the mark of our union.
“Damn, Aisling,” I pant, kissing her fiercely. “You’re incredible, taking all of us like this.”
She’s trembling, her breaths coming in short, ragged pulls. Her whole being is alight with sensation, so finely tuned that I know every touch is an inferno across her nerves.
Rook doesn’t waste a beat, stepping in as Luka pulls away. His hand finds Aisling’s chin, tilting her face toward him. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, his accent curling around his words. “So ripe and gorgeous. You’re the perfect mate, aren’t you? Built to take us, fill you up.”
A rush of possessive pride swells in my chest. That’s my omega; that’s our bond. I tighten my hold on Aisling, feeling the raw edge of our connection.
“Fuck, Rook…” Aisling gasps out, her grey eyes glazing over as his length pushes into her. It hits deep, strikes that secret place inside her that turns her moans into symphonies of pleasure. Without the knot, he can press deeper, has more dexterity. She’s so responsive, hands clutching at my arms, clinging as if I’m the anchor in this storm of sensation we’ve thrown her into.
I can’t look away from her face—it’s a canvas of lust and love, and it’s all for us, her pack. Nero sidles up close, one hand leisurely stroking himself while he sips champagne from the bottle like he’s at some decadent feast. Maybe he is. He watches Aisling with an intensity that tells me he’s not just here for the pleasure—he sees the power in this, the bond that ties us together.
“You feel so good, love.” Rook’s voice is a rough whisper against her ear, and I feel every word vibrate through her. Aisling’s body trembles, her lips parting in silent plea or praise—I don’t know which, but it doesn’t matter. Rook kisses her, fingers tweaking her nipples, and she makes the most sinful noises as he fucks her slow…as I feel his cock stroking her insides, knowing just how to drag orgasms out of her. “That perfect cunt is so tight with Gunnar’s cock in your arse… perfect …”
I can almost hear the smirk in Rook’s voice, rough and edged with a primal possessiveness that resonates within the room. Aisling’s body is a live wire between us, every thrust sending jolts of carnal energy through her, through me. With each ragged breath she takes, I feel her slipping further into that abyss of ecstasy, the one we’ve all fallen into tonight.
“Ah, fuck…” Rook grunts, picking up his pace, and I swear the bed frame creaks a protest. Aisling writhes, the movements jerky and uncoordinated as waves of pleasure crash over her, her cries mingling with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Beneath her, my own body strains with the effort to remain still, to let her take what she needs from us, from this moment of raw, unfiltered passion.
“Bite me,” Aisling gasps, and I lock eyes with Rook for a moment. Aisling is coming, my head spinning…but I nod at him.
He hasn’t marked her yet—and she wants him to, needs him to .
His lips find her throat in one of the rare places where she hasn’t yet been bitten…and then she’s screaming and coming as he sinks his teeth into her. He fucks her hard and fast, cock inside her pussy, mine in her ass, his teeth in her neck.
“Mine,” Rook growls as he pulls away, blood on his lips, a primal declaration that sends shivers down my spine. But it’s not just his claim; it’s ours, echoing through the pack bond that ties our fates together.
Then Oberon, ever the silent sentinel, leans forward. His lips brush against the smooth expanse of Aisling’s shoulder, marking her. His voice rumbles low in her ear, words wrapped in the deep timbre of ownership and affection. “You’re ours, Aisling. You belong to us, to this pack.”
She gasps, the sound slicing through the heavy curtain of lust hanging in the air. It’s a reminder—a promise—that no matter the chaos of our world, she is the constant we orbit around. The core of our pack. Her half-lidded eyes catch mine, grey seas stormy with emotion, and I know she feels it too. The weight of our bond, the strength of our claim.
“Yours,” she whispers back, a single word that seals her fate and ours. It’s a vow, spoken in the language of bodies and souls entwined. And as Rook’s movements become more erratic, signaling his impending release, I tighten my hold on her, grounding her, ready to weather the storm of sensation that’s about to break over us all.
Oberon breathes against Aisling’s skin, his fingers dancing across her tender flesh with the reverence of a man worshipping at an altar. His touch teases the peaks of her breasts, still exposed and blushing pink over the neckline of her wedding dress.
“God, yes…” Her voice is a raspy testament to the depths of her desire, her body arching into every caress, every stroke that claims her as ours.
Rook’s grip on her tightens, a silent signal of his nearing edge. He grunts—a low, animalistic sound—and I feel the tremor of his release. It ripples through Aisling, a wave crashing into the shore of her senses. When he pulls out, she’s practically gushing with our mingled arousal, so full…
…but there’s one more.
I’m barely holding on, fire licking through my veins, but then Nero shifts closer, his presence like a match waiting to ignite the tinderbox of our lust. He doesn’t just look at Aisling; he devours her with his gaze, appreciation etched in every line of his face.
“Perfection,” Nero murmurs, and I can’t help but agree. She is the embodiment of every carnal fantasy, yet she’s so much more—she’s the heart of us, the soul of our pack.
His hands roam over her thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He bites his lip, a playful spark igniting in his eyes, and it’s clear he’s reveling in the moment before conquest.
“Ready for more, Stargazer?” he teases, voice laced with the promise of ecstasy.
And without waiting for her breathless nod, Nero pushes us down, a move both gentle and commanding. He positions himself, and with a fluid motion that speaks of both hunger and finesse, he enters her.
The sensation is overwhelming, a new layer added to the tapestry of pleasure we’re weaving together. With every thrust, every moan, every gasp for air, we’re writing the story of us—a tale of love and lust entangled, of bonds forged in the crucible of shared passion.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Nero groans, his voice a velvet caress against the heated skin of our tangled bodies.
I’m ensnared in the intensity of Nero’s thrusts, each one a powerful affirmation of our connection. The pleasure radiates through me, amplified by the closeness of Aisling between us. With each movement, I can sense her reactions to Nero, a symphony of clenching and shuddering that echoes through my own body.
Lips crash against lips in a chaotic dance. Our three-way kiss is messy, an imperfect melding that feels so damn right. Salty sweat mingles with the sweet taste of Aisling’s mouth, her breath coming in ragged pulls that fan over my face. Her wedding dress, once pristine, is now a testament to the raw desire consuming us, adorned with stains of passion.
Nero’s moans vibrate directly into my chest, his hot breath searing my skin even as we stay locked in this maddening embrace. His rhythm becomes erratic, and then, with a guttural groan that sends ripples through the room, he spills himself inside Aisling. It’s like I can feel the heat of his release, a strange heat that adds to the cocktail of seed already claimed by Aisling’s depths.
She whimpers, a delicate sound that belies the ferocity of her spirit. Her body trembles as Nero withdraws, leaving us both feeling strangely empty despite being so full.
“Shit,” Nero exhales, his dark eyes meeting mine for a moment—a silent conversation held in the aftermath of chaos.
But I haven’t come yet…and fuck, I need her so bad it hurts.
With a grunt of pure need, I roll Aisling onto her stomach and position myself behind her, getting to my knees. My hands grip her hips, pulling her into me as I thrust into her ass with a force that’s driven by primal desperation. Each movement is harder, faster, my body demanding release as I roll my hips against hers, my knot nestled in her ass.
“Fuck, Aisling…” The words escape between clenched teeth, a growl that vibrates through the charged air. Her body holds me, squeezes me, the pressure building to an unbearable intensity.
Aisling’s breaths come in sharp gasps, her body pressed into the mattress, taking all of me. She pushes back against my every move, matching my fervor with a passion that only she possesses. It’s that untamed spirit of hers that keeps me teetering on the edge—always wanting more, always needing to be deeper, closer.
The climax builds like a storm surging through my veins, and when it breaks, it’s cataclysmic. I slam into her one last time, holding her tight against me as I groan out loud, releasing my load deep inside her. I pulse within her, again and again, each spurt feeling like I’m marking her, claiming her in the most elemental way possible.
“Christ…Aisling,” I pant, my forehead resting against the sweat-slicked curve of her shoulder. Our bodies are entangled, a mess of limbs and heaving chests. I feel her heartbeat thundering against my chest, as synchronized with mine as our breaths.
As my knot recedes, the room comes back into focus—the sounds of champagne corks popping and laughter filling the space around us. The others are celebrating, their voices a distant hum against the backdrop of my own roaring pulse. Nero’s chuckle, Luka’s low murmurs, Oberon’s hearty laugh, Rook’s wry teasing—they’re all there, but right now, it’s just me and Aisling, lost in the aftermath of our union.
“Damn, we really broke in that dress.” Rook grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief and satisfaction.
“Like she was made for this,” Nero adds, lifting his glass with a smirk before taking a swig of champagne.
“Perfect,” I whisper, though no one hears me over the noise.
Perfect, not because of what just happened, but because Aisling is here with me, with us. And despite the chaos of our lives, this moment of unity feels like a silent victory—a claim more potent than any war we wage outside these walls.