44 - Haven
HAVEN
Being carried off to bed by some thick-shouldered barbarian is in every girl’s book of bucket list fantasies.
But being carried upstairs while two equally-hot guys follow close behind, every bit as hell-bent on ravaging you from all sides?
Well, that’s when things really get crazy.
I wasn’t so much deposited on the bed as flung there. I bounced helplessly but happily in the middle of my soft down comforter. Smiling up at the three sizzling Reavers peeling their clothes off.
My own clothes came next, of course. Not that it took long, because I was all but undressed.
Modesty, it seemed, had taken a hard left turn over the past twenty-four hours.
The boys pounced, and I welcomed them each in turn.
And sometimes, they didn’t even wait their turn.
An hour passed. Then two. It could’ve been five, really. In all honesty, I was too busy to count.
Time stopped making sense after that.
It didn’t move in straight lines anymore. It stretched. Looped back. Collapsed in on itself, like a dying star.
There was just as much energy. Just as much majesty, and intensity, too.
The storm outside howled like it was trying to tear the house apart. But inside?
Everything burned.
Moments blurred together, stretching the very confines of my sexual reality. The bed. The couch. The kitchen table. Laughter that turned into something else, and sarcasm that twisted into a challenge.
“You sure you can keep up?” Sebastian had asked at one point.
“Try me,” I’d shot back.
Mistake.
Or maybe not.
Ares didn’t ask. He never did. He just took what was already there — tension, heat, momentum — and pushed it further than ever before.
The pantry. The hallway. Up against the wall.
In the shower, afterwards.
Back on the bed again, once everyone was clean.
Because it was open season now. And I was in season.
They were the hunters.
I let myself be the prey.
And Grayson? Grayson took his time. Even now, when everything else was straight chaos.
He still made it feel like control.
Like choice.
Like I was stepping into it, instead of being pulled.
Even when I was being pulled — into the closet. The nearest bedroom. Down into the makeshift pile of pillows and blankets, scattered across the floor.
Not stopping, not refusing, not even once. Because I wanted it. I needed it.
And that, I realized, was the most dangerous part of all.
There wasn’t a point where I asked to stop. Not once. Not when it shifted, or when it escalated, or when it became something that would’ve terrified me only a week ago.
Now? Now it felt inevitable.
Expected.
Right.
A whole day passed, until it was dark outside.
Or maybe it had been dark the whole time.
It didn’t matter one bit. The house was too warm, the air too thick.
There were too many blankets to get lost under.
Too much skin, too much flesh, too much surging muscle, to be worried about something as insignificant as time.
“You’re going to be the death of us,” Sebastian said at one point. Half laughing. Half not.
“Pretty sure that’s you,” I shot back.
Ares shook his head. He threw a water bottle.
“No,” he said. “You started this.”
I blinked. Tilted it back. Swallowed hard.
Wondered if it was true.
“And you didn’t stop it,” I protested.
“No,” Grayson agreed. “We didn’t.”
Fingers in my hair. Hands at my wrists. My body bent — wherever they wanted it.
The sink. The loveseat. Wherever and whenever.
Open season.
Always.
“And we never want to…”
I gasped, surging forward, rocking against whomever was inside me. Writhing with glee into whichever hand — or something other than a hand — pressed itself against my mouth.
And I knew right then, as I succumbed to another mind-erasing climax…
There would be no going back.
Ever.
Sometime later—
Late maybe—
We ended up back in the living room. Lights low. Storm still raging. The four of us, sprawled across the couch like none of us had the energy — or the will — to move anymore.
I rested my head against Ares’s shoulder.
My legs draped across Sebastian’s warm thighs.
Grayson sat close enough that his hand rested absently against my ankle, thumb tracing slow, unconscious patterns into the soles of my tired, grateful feet.
No one spoke for a while. Just breathing.
Just existing.
Just… this.
Finally, Sebastian exhaled.
“We’re not ever stopping, are we?”
No one answered right away. There was no need to. Ares’s arm tightened around me, and Grayson’s thumb didn’t stop moving.
I closed my eyes; and smiled.
“No,” I said softly.
The storm hammered the house again, harder, burying us deeper, sealing us in.
I didn’t fight it. Didn’t question it.
Didn’t even pretend I wanted to.
Because whatever this was—
Whatever we’d started—
It wasn’t slowing down.
It wasn’t temporary.
And it sure as hell wasn’t something I could walk away from.
Not anymore.