Chapter 28 Reva #2
He laughs softly against my cunt and does it again, keeping me right on the edge. Ever feels the change immediately. His hands tighten. His mouth finds the hinge of my jaw.
“Please,” I hear myself say, hating how wrecked I sound and not caring nearly enough.
“Please what?” Shiloh murmurs, mouth brushing my inner thigh.
I’d like to hate him. Instead I’m burning for him.
“Don’t be cruel.”
He glances up, lashes dark, lips wet. “Too late.”
He licks me again. Harder. Deeper. My whole body bows but it’s not enough.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Reva.” Nash’s steady voice breaks through the haze. “Shiloh. Show our little rebel what happens to bad girls.”
Shiloh spreads me wider with two fingers. My body isn’t mine anymore.
Or maybe worse—it is mine, and I am choosing this, choosing them, choosing the way pleasure makes a liar of every other intention I brought into this room.
And then he bites my clit and I scream.
Not so much that it’s painful, but definitely more than I can take with how worked up I am. His fingers are gone in the next instant, and his tongue is pressing down over his bite, soothing the sting left behind.
Tears prick the corner of my eyes at the retreating orgasm.
“Let go,” I whisper against the onslaught of emotion.
But Ever doesn’t let go, and Shiloh doesn’t remove my leg from his shoulder. Instead, he slides his tongue down to my pussy and sinks it inside me, fucking me with his mouth.
“One.” Nash announces. “Two to go. One for each of the men you walked away from, Reva.”
His words don’t register, not until Shiloh grins against my pussy and brings a hand up, fingers pressed on either side of my clit.
“Oh fuck.” I gasp, because that’s all I can do against the onslaught.
Ever tightens his hold, pressing his lips against my neck, kissing and licking my exposed skin.
Nash is watching, even as my head falls back and my eyes start to roll back into my head.
The pressure is building ridiculously fast. I can feel the orgasm right there.
Until Shiloh stops. Everything. His tongue. His fingers. All of it just stops.
“No.” Tears are a real danger, here, because this is torture.
“Two.” Nash’s voice makes me want to punch him.
I can’t do this again. There’s no way.
Until Ever bites my neck and his dick jerks against my back. Once more, I’m dragged into the pleasure the three of them bring me, and I know there’s nothing I can do.
I can’t escape Ever’s grip. I can’t move away from Shiloh’s mouth. I can’t hide from Nash’s intense gaze.
I don’t want it to stop. But I’m not going to admit that to them.
“You’re such a perfect woman.” Shiloh breathes on my core, and the whole body tremors that come as a result make it impossible to reply.
There aren’t any smart ass remarks I can make here. Nothing I can do to take back the power. Not unless I tell him to stop.
And I won’t do that.
Instead, I take Nash’s punishment. Because this is his. Shiloh and Ever may be the ones acting, but Nash controls the strings here.
Fuck.
I’m going to come, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Slap.
My whole body jolts at the sting against my pussy. Shock rips through me so fast it steals the breath from my lungs, sharp enough to feel like pain before it melts into something far more dangerous.
Shiloh smiles against me like he knows exactly what he’s done, his hand still there, firm and possessive, like he has no intention of letting me retreat from it.
A broken sound catches in my throat, but Ever only tightens his hold, anchoring me harder against him. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make it clear I’m not going anywhere. That I don’t get to twist free, don’t get to hide from what they’re pulling out of me.
Heat crashes through me anyway, hot and humiliating and impossible to separate from the sting still echoing through my body.
And through all of it, Nash watches.
He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t need to. His gaze is a hand all its own, heavy and unrelenting, pinning me open in a way Ever’s arms never could.
This isn’t just about what they’re doing to me.
It’s about making me feel every second of the fact that he allowed it.
That he ordered it. That he can stand there, fully in control, and watch me come apart under someone else’s mouth and hands because it still belongs to him.
My face burns. My pulse is chaos. I can’t tell if I want to look at him or can’t bear to.
“That’s three,” Nash says, calm as sin.
And somehow that’s worse than if he’d sounded angry. Worse than if he’d barked the order. That steady, measured approval strips me raw, leaves nowhere for the shame or the need to go except deeper.
Shiloh makes a low, satisfied sound, like he enjoys the way I break. Ever’s chest is solid at my back, his restraint a silent reminder that if Nash says hold, Ever holds. If Nash says let her fall, he’ll do that too.
I’m caught between all of them, but it’s Nash I feel most. Nash in the command. Nash in the permission. Nash in the unbearable certainty that this is punishment only because he knows exactly how badly I’ll want it anyway.
Shiloh wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, then smiles at me like a man pleased with his work.
“Delicious.”
He holds out two slick fingers to Ever. Ever’s eyes never leave my face as he opens his mouth and takes them in.
My breath catches all over again.
He sucks them clean slowly, swallowing down the taste of me with the same deliberate calm he brings to everything that matters too much.
My knees nearly buckle.
Shiloh laughs under his breath. “There she is.”
I don’t know what I look like. I only know what I feel like—flushed, shaking, wrung open, my dress hiked up indecently high, my hair half-ruined, my pulse still skittering under my skin like something trapped and frantic.
Nash uncrosses his legs. The sound of his shoe touching the floor is small, and it lands like thunder.
Every inch of the room changes again.
Shiloh steps back first. Ever a second later. Not far, but enough. Enough to make it clear that whatever just happened was not the end of this. It was prelude. Invocation. Preparation.
I drag in a breath and look toward Nash.
He rises from the chair with unhurried precision, rolling his sleeves one final time before letting his arms fall at his sides.
His eyes travel over me in a way that feels almost tactile now—my swollen mouth, the marks beginning at my throat, the lift of my chest, the wet weakness still trembling through my legs.
I don’t move. I can’t. Or maybe it’s just that I won’t.
He comes toward me slowly—not a predator stalking his prey, but a king approaching something he already owns.
Some instinct says this is the moment that matters. Not because Ever and Shiloh don’t matter—they do, God, they do—but because Nash is the hinge. The lock clicking into place. The one I’ll feel longest after this night ends.
The real point of no return.
He stops in front of me.
Close enough that I can smell his cologne beneath the whiskey and the darker scent of the room. Close enough that if I leaned forward even an inch, I’d touch him.
His fingers lift and tilt my chin up. Behind me, Ever and Shiloh watch in charged silence. In front of me, Nash studies my face like he’s looking for the exact moment resolve becomes surrender.
Or maybe not surrender. Choice.
His thumb brushes once along my lower lip, sending my pulse stammering.
“Look at you,” he says softly.
And then he smiles—the faintest, most dangerous curve of his mouth.
I understand all at once that whatever comes next will not be a game.
It will be a claim.
“Now that you’ve taken your punishment, we can get back to you being a good girl, little wolf.”