What She Never Said
RHYS
Saint’s mouth was wet, tight, and perfect around me.
I kept my fist buried in his hair, guiding the pace as I fucked into his throat with deep, controlled strokes. Every time I pushed forward, his throat flexed and fluttered around the head of my cock. The wet, choking sounds he made went straight to the base of my spine.
Kane was behind him, hips snapping hard, the wet slap of skin filling the room. Each thrust drove Saint forward onto me, forcing him to take more. I could feel the way Kane’s cock stretched him, the way Saint’s body jerked between us.
My wolf was restless beneath my skin.
Then her scent shifted.
I felt it the moment Scarlett left her room—soft, warm, faintly sweet—threading down the hallway until it mixed with the heavy musk of sex and rut already saturating the air.
My grip in Saint’s hair tightened. Kane’s rhythm faltered for half a second; he smelled her too.
She stopped outside our door.
I didn’t need to look to know she was there. Her scent sharpened, curious and startled, right on the other side of the slightly open door. My cock throbbed hard in Saint’s mouth at the knowledge.
Golden light spilled in from the hallway, catching Scarlett standing motionless beyond it with her violin case clutched tightly to her chest. Her eyes found mine, widening as the realization that she’d been caught passed over her face.
She stumbled back, then turned and fled.
Her bare feet struck the hallway in a hurried retreat before disappearing toward the stairs, and the sound went through me like a spark to dry tinder.
A low, broken groan tore from my throat. Pleasure slammed into me so hard my vision narrowed. I thrust deep one last time and came hard down Saint’s throat, pulse after pulse flooding his mouth.
“Swallow,” I ordered, voice rough.
Saint swallowed every drop, throat working obediently around me. His lips stayed stretched, eyes glassy, body held still like he’d been trained for this exact moment. The sight alone dragged another aftershock out of me.
I reached across and caught the back of Kane’s neck, yanking him forward.
Our mouths collided in a brutal, open-mouthed kiss—teeth, tongue, and raw hunger—while I was still buried deep in Saint’s throat and Kane was still buried to the hilt inside him.
Kane groaned against my tongue as his orgasm slammed into him, hips stuttering hard, driving deep one final, punishing time.
We stayed locked like that for several long seconds—me kissing Kane, both of us still buried in our mate, the aftershocks rolling through all three of us.
When I finally pulled free of Saint’s mouth, a thin string of saliva and cum connected his lower lip to the head of my cock. He gasped for air, cheeks flushed.
I brushed my thumb over his swollen bottom lip.
“Good boy.”
Kane slumped forward over Saint’s back, breathing hard, forehead pressed between Saint’s shoulder blades.
The room reeked of sex, sweat, and the lingering sweetness of Scarlett’s scent. From the way it had spiked right before she ran, she hadn’t been unaffected.
*****
We cleaned up in relative silence.
Saint was already half-asleep by the time Kane finished wiping him down. The long week of approaching rut always hit him hardest, and the intensity of what we’d just done had drained the last of his energy.
I pulled the sheet up over his bare back and brushed my fingers through his hair once. He made a soft, contented sound and turned his face into the pillow.
Kane stepped into a clean pair of sweatpants and ran a towel over his chest.
We made our way downstairs, leaving Saint asleep upstairs, and had almost reached the bottom when the faint sound of music drifted through the house.
I slowed, listening as the melody became clearer.
A violin.
The notes rose and fell with an aching beauty that sent a chill over my skin.
Kane tilted his head toward the front of the house.
“Is that…?”
“Yes.”
We followed the music through the front door and across the dark lawn, the violin growing richer with every step until it led us toward the old oak at the edge of the property.
Scarlett sat on the stone bench beneath it, the violin tucked beneath her chin as her bow glided across the strings.
Her fingers moved effortlessly along the neck, drawing one haunting note into the next.
The oversized sweater had slipped from one shoulder, and her eyes remained closed as though nothing existed beyond the instrument in her hands.
I stopped several paces away, unwilling to interrupt.
I had never heard her play.
The knowledge settled strangely in my chest. For all the time we’d spent with Scarlett, getting under her skin and letting her get under ours, somehow we’d never discovered this part of her.
There was something almost painfully intimate about the way she played, as though the violin were giving voice to everything Scarlett would never willingly say aloud. The melody softened, then swelled again, pulling something tight in my chest as Kane stood silently beside me.
Neither of us seemed willing to break whatever spell she’d cast over the night.
We simply watched her play, the night air cool around us, her scent drifting toward us on the breeze—still faintly spiked with the same heat we had smelled outside our door.
She had no idea we were there.
And for the first time that night, I found myself reluctant to make her aware of us.
The melody gradually softened beneath Scarlett’s bow until the final note lingered in the night and disappeared. Only then did she lower the violin into her lap and open her eyes.
For several seconds, she remained beneath the oak without moving, still caught somewhere in whatever she had poured into the music.
When she finally looked up, her gaze traveled across the lawn and landed on us several paces away. Her fingers tightened around the violin, and the moment she recognized who was standing there, the color in her cheeks deepened as her eyes darted away from mine.
I didn't have to guess what she'd remembered.
Kane broke the silence first.
“That was beautiful, love.”
Scarlett glanced down at the violin before looking at us again.
I moved a little closer, careful not to crowd her. “When did you learn to play like that?”
Her lips parted before she seemed to remember herself. Instead of answering, she reached toward the open case at her feet for the notepad tucked inside.
Kane and I waited.
Whatever embarrassment had sent her running from us earlier was still there, but neither of us was going to embarrass her further by mentioning it.
Not yet.