Euan caught my hand. He kissed my knuckles, precise and fervent, then moved his hands to my waist, sliding under the hem of the t-shirt. His fingers were cool, contrasting with the fever heat of my skin. He mapped my ribs, his touch surgical but starving.
"Alfie," I gasped as the heat spiked again, demanding an outlet. "The ache. It’s... it’s waiting."
Alfie looked up, his mouth slick, his eyes wild gold. "Closer?"
"Harder," I begged.
He didn't need to hear it twice. He hooked my knees over his shoulders, spreading me wide open to the dim indigo light of the lounge. He looked at me, really looked at me, at the slick heat, the need, the absolute surrender of the producer who usually barricaded herself behind mixing desks.
"Copy that," he growled.
He lowered his head and tasted me.
I screamed.
It wasn't a pretty sound. It was raw audio, uncompressed and clipping. The sensation was a blinding flash of synesthetic color, white-hot gold and neon pink shattering behind my eyes.Alfie wasn't gentle. He was starving. His tongue was relentless, chasing the pulse, humming against the most sensitive bundle of nerves I possessed.
"Breathe," Kit commanded in my ear, his hand splay wide on my belly, pressing down as I bucked against him. "Four in. Six out. Stay with us, love."
"Can't," I sobbed, my fingers digging into Kit’s forearms. "It’s too high. The frequency is too high."
"We’ll ground it," Euan said. He moved closer, crowding in next to Alfie. He watched Alfie work with dark, dilated fascination, then looked up at me. "Permission to enter?"
"Euan," I pleaded. "Please."
He didn't use a toy. He used his fingers, slicking them with my own heat. He slid inside me, stretching the ache, filling the empty space that had been throbbing for hours.
The combination was devastating. Alfie’s mouth devouring me from the outside, Euan’s fingers claiming me from the inside, and Kit’s massive frame holding me together so I didn't fly apart.
"Mine," Alfie mumbled against me, the vibration sending shocks through my clit. "Tastes like mine."
"Ours," Kit corrected, biting the junction of my neck and shoulder, not breaking skin, just mouthing, pretend claiming the scent gland. "She’s ours."
"Zia," Euan commanded, his voice cutting through the haze. "Look at me."
I forced my eyes open. Euan was close, so close. His slate-grey scent was everywhere.
"You are determining the pace," he said, twisting his fingers inside me, hitting a spot that made my toes curl. "Input equals output. Tell me what you need."
"More," I choked out. "I need... full spectrum."
Alfie pulled back, gasping for air, his chin slick with me. He looked wrecked. Beautiful.
"She’s ready," Alfie panted. "She’s slick enough to drown in. Kit?"
"I'm holding the line," Kit said, his voice tight with strain. "You take the lead, Alf. I've got her anchor."
Alfie scrambled up, shedding his leather stage pants with frantic, clumsy hands. He was hard, painfully so, leaking his own clear want. He positioned himself between my legs, forcing Euan to shift to the side, though Euan didn't leave, he kept one hand on my hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against the bone.
Alfie braced his hands on the mattress on either side of my head, looming over me, caging me in. His pink coat lay discarded in the corner like a dead muppet. He was just skin and muscle and terrifying Alpha intensity.
"Fox," he whispered, staring down at me. "I’m going to ruin you for quiet. You know that, yeah?"
"I don't want quiet," I said, reaching up to tangle my hands in his chaotic hair. "Make some noise."
He thrust into me.
It was a collision. A violent, perfect sync of biological signals. He filled me completely, stretching me open, claiming the space inside me that I had guarded with contracts and deadbolts for years.
