Chapter 42 #3
I force my gaze up. Silas is breathing heavier now, his knuckles white where they grip his thighs.
His jaw is clenched, chest rising and falling fast, like he’s barely holding himself back.
Watching him like this, knowing he’s dying to touch me but letting Archer take the lead, makes it so much hotter.
Archer’s hand slides back down, trailing heat across my belly. When he finally dips beneath the waistband of my underwear again, I hold my breath. One finger slides through my wetness, slow and reverent. He groans and lets his head drop to my back.
“Fuck,” he mutters into my skin. “You feel incredible.”
He lifts his head and, without warning, presses one long finger inside me. I shudder, a gasping moan tumbling out of me before I can stop it.
“God,” I gasp, my whole body clenching.
“No. Archer.” Silas say’s voice gravelly, eyes hooded.
“Archer,” I breathe out.
Silas’ hand shoots out and grip my upper thigh. The added pressure makes it worse, just enough to tease, not enough to satisfy. I try to close my legs, chasing the friction.
“No.” Archer’s voice cuts through my haze, low and commanding. “You stay open for me.”
I let out a broken noise, trying so hard to obey. He starts to slide his finger out, but stops just before pulling all the way free. I instinctively rock my hips, seeking him, needing more.
“Tsk, tsk,” he scolds, a soft, amused sound. “So needy.” Then he pulls out completely.
A sob escapes me. My hands grip Silas’s shirt like I’ll collapse without it.
Archer leans back just enough that I feel the loss of his warmth. “What do you want, Liv?”
“I…” My voice breaks. I can’t breathe, can’t think. “I want—please—I want—”
“Use your words. Say it. Or I can’t do anything about it.”
My lips tremble. “I want to come.”
“Good girl.”
He rewards me instantly. His fingers slide down again, finding my clit with slow, firm circles. My hips jerk and I cry out, the pressure making me shake. He eases two fingers inside this time, and my head falls forward with a gasp.
“Fuck—Archer—”
“That’s right pretty girl.”
He leans back, guiding me with him until I’m fully resting on his chest. My legs are still splayed wide, Silas’ hand a vice grip on my thigh, holding me open for Archer’s control.
He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them just right.
“Silas,” Archer commands. “She could use a bit more… Here…” His other hand glides up and cups my breast again.
Silas doesn’t hesitate. He leans forward and takes the exposed peak into his mouth, tongue flicking, lips sucking, teeth grazing. I jolt with a cry, then moan again, louder.
“Oh god…”
“God isn’t the one making you feel like this Liv.” Archer growls.
“Archer,” I moan in response.
“And who else?” He asks.
“Silas.” A whisper through my ragged breaths.
Archer’s fingers pick up speed, each pump more deliberate, more devastating. I can’t take it. I’m unraveling.
“She’s close,” Archer says, breath hot against my ear. “So close, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, please.”
And then, right as I’m about to break, Archer’s voice turns sharp again.
“Stop.”
Everything stills.
Silas pulls back with a groan. Archer stops moving inside me. I sob, the sound raw and wrecked.
“No—please—don’t stop—I need it—please—”
Silas looks feral. His chest is heaving, his hands twitching like he doesn’t know where to put them.
Archer slides his fingers out slowly, watching me keen and writhe. I’m trembling. Panting. My hands have fisted so hard my knuckles ache.
“Say it again,” Archer whispers, voice like velvet-wrapped flame.
“I need to come,” I plead. “I need it. Please—Archer—please—”
He hums low in approval, sliding his fingers back in.
Silas groans. “Fuck, that’s it. She’s right there.”
Archer curls his fingers and starts pumping again, deeper and faster.
“Silas.”
Silas doesn’t need more than that. His mouth latches back on, sucking and biting gently, coaxing another shattered moan from my lips.
Archer’s fingers work relentlessly, fucking me slow and deep, his thumb teasing my clit again. I cry out, the sound torn from deep inside me as everything breaks apart. White-hot pleasure ripping through me like fire in my veins.
My body shudders violently. Archer holds me down, cradles me as I shake and sob with release. Silas growls something against my skin, still kissing, still touching, as the orgasm crashes through me in waves.
When it finally fades, I’m boneless, collapsed between them.
Archer’s arms are the only thing keeping me from sinking straight into the earth.
My muscles twitch with aftershocks, every limb molten and heavy.
I don’t even realize my eyes have closed until Archer brushes his fingers along my cheek, coaxing them open again.
“There you are,” he says softly.
I turn my head into his touch and let myself rest there, against the steady rise and fall of his chest. His fingers slide from inside me slowly, and I wince as the sensitivity hits.
One arm circles around my waist, holding me close. “You did so well.”
Silas leans in, still watching, but something in his face has shifted too. The hunger hasn’t vanished, not fully, but it's softened. He reaches for the blanket at our feet and carefully drapes it over me, tucking it around my legs and waist.
“I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful,” he says under his breath.
Archer lets out a long exhale against my temple, then kisses the spot gently. “You're okay?”
I nod.
“Tell me.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I feel... amazing. Like I might float away.”
He chuckles softly and wraps both arms around me, chest pressing fully against my back. “Then I’ll keep you here.”
I feel Silas settle closer on one side of us. He rests a hand against my calf beneath the blanket, a simple touch, but it keeps me tethered. I shift slightly, turning just enough to look at him.
His hair’s a mess, lips red, eyes still smoldering.
“You were good a good boy for him,” I tease.
Silas’ eyes heat again. “It was easy. You make being good really fucking worth it.”
I curl in a little closer to Archer’s chest, letting the beat of his heart calm mine.
He brushes a hand through my hair, slow and steady.
There’s a silence that settles over us. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not questioning everything.
I don’t feel like I’m caught between two impossible choices or fighting to hold my pieces together.
Archer’s fingers keep moving through my hair, and Silas draws idle patterns against my calf like he’s sketching something only he can see.
There’s no label for this. No roadmap. Just three hearts wrapped in the same pull. Messy, tangled, and maybe a little reckless.
But it’s ours, and I’m not running from it.
Not anymore.