I move behind her, sliding my palms down the warm line of her spine until she straightens against me, her back pressed to my chest. She shivers when my mouth brushes her shoulder. She tilts her head just enough that her lips graze my jaw.
Everything in me tightens.
“You’re sure?” I murmur against her ear, giving her one last out.
She nods without hesitation, breath trembling. “Please… I want this. I want both of you.”
Talon’s eyes shut hard, like the words hit him straight in the soul.
I guide her with slow hands, steady hands, making sure she feels every inch of control. She softens against me, trusting me to hold her up even as her thighs tremble around Talon’s hips. Talon grips her like he’s anchoring himself, forehead dropping to her chest as she rocks into him with a desperate, beautiful kind of abandon.
“Jesus, Penelope…” he breathes, voice raw. “You’re—God, you’re everything.”
I drag my fingers through her slick first, coating myself with everything she’s already pouring for us. When I finally press into her tight little hole, she gasps, clutching Talon’s shoulders.
“Good girl,” I murmur.
We move together, Talon gripping her thighs, her hands fisted in his hair, my chest pressed to her back as I take her slow and deep. I can feel the thin barrier between Talon and me. I don’t care. I just want to make her feel good.
I pick up my pace, pounding into her harder, making her ride Talon faster, I don’t stop until she falls apart crying our names. Her body locks up as a shiver runs through her, and she pants riding out her orgasm.
Talon finishes with a broken sound, pulling her flush against him. I spill inside her a moment later, teeth grazing her shoulder. She collapses between us, boneless and warm.
We clean her gently. Talon wipes her thighs with a warm cloth in slow and reverent strokes like he’s afraid to rush her. I use another cloth to trace up her spine, across her hips, along the inside of her arms where her skin shivers under the heat. She doesn’t flinch or tense. She just melts, pliant and trusting between us, her breaths long and steady as we take care of her.
Talon kisses her before sliding her next to him and pulling a blanket over her legs. I cup her jaw, wiping the sweat from her temple, and she leans into the touch.
“Good?” I murmur, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.
Her eyes flutter halfway open. She gives a tiny, exhausted nod. “Yeah. I feel… loved.”
That four letter word hangs in the air.
Talon lies next to her and tucks her against his chest, one arm draping over her waist with a protective instinct. She curls into him naturally, fitting into the curve of his body as if she’s doneit for years. I slide in close, pressing my body along her front, kissing the pulse at her throat while she hums softly.
There’s no panic in her muscles, no hesitation in her hands as they rest on both of us, no guilt darkening her expression. Her breathing softens after a minute. Her lashes brush her cheeks, heavy with exhaustion. Talon strokes her hair, long slow motions over the crown of her head, soothing her deeper into the quiet.
“She’s out,” he whispers.
“Good,” I answer, sliding a hand to her ribs, feeling the rise and fall of her breath under my palm. “She needs rest.”
We stay like that for a long, quiet stretch—Penelope tucked between us, her body soft and warm, her breath evening out as the adrenaline finally burns off.
His fingers never stop moving, drawing light, absentminded circles on her hip as if he can soothe her even in sleep. The boy looks undone in the best way—protective, overwhelmed, completely hers.
Her legs shift against mine beneath the blanket, searching for a place to settle. Talon’s eyes drift shut and his breathing slows. Penelope’s lashes flutter once, then sink again. Her fingers curl loosely in the sheets, but her body stays pressed between ours.
A soft sound escapes her, content and barely there.
Talon’s head tips back against the pillow, his hand still moving even half-asleep. My own eyes start to drag closed.
Eventually sleep takes me too. Three tangled bodies under one blanket.
When we finally wake up, the sun’s lower in the sky and Penelope’s hair is plastered to Talon’s chest. She insists on making dinner.
“I need normal human tasks,” she says, pulling out spaghetti noodles and sauce. “If I sit still too long, my brain will explode.”
Silas helps her chop onions, Talon rolls meatballs and I toast garlic bread while Minxy sits on the counter swinging her legs.
