“Come here,” Rett commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Dane helps me move, his large hands guiding me to the edge of the bed where Rett stands. I’m on my knees, my face levelwith Rett’s chest, my body still trembling from the three claimings, from the pleasure that continues to course through me.
Rett’s hand cups my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “You’re ours,” he says, his voice low and fierce. “Say it again.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper, the words a vow, a promise, a declaration of truth.
His other hand moves to tangle in my hair, tugging gently, positioning my head exactly how he wants it. “And we’re yours,” he says, his voice softening slightly. “All of us. Forever.”
Then he leans down, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that is pure, concentrated possession. His tongue sweeps in, claiming, tasting, owning. His hand tightens in my hair, holding me exactly where he wants me as he devours my mouth.
When he breaks the kiss, we’re both breathing hard, our eyes locked. Then he strips off the rest of his clothes, standing before me completely naked.
He’s magnificent. All of them are.
My pack. My alphas. Mine.
Rett climbs onto the bed. His hands span my waist, lifting me effortlessly, positioning me on my hands and knees. I feel the hard length of him press against my entrance.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice strained with the effort of control.
“Yes,” I breathe, pushing back against him, silently begging. “Please.”
He enters me in one smooth, powerful thrust, filling me completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a sudden, perfect fullness that makes me gasp, my head falling forward as my body adjusts to the intrusion.
“So tight,” he groans, his hands tightening on my hips. “So perfect.”
He begins to move, setting a rhythm that is neither gentle nor rough, but something in between. Each thrust hitting exactly the right spot to make me see stars.
Diego settles beside me, his hand cupping my cheek, turning my face toward him for a deep, possessive kiss. Tristan is at myother side, his mouth on my breast, teeth grazing my nipple in time with Rett’s thrusts. Dane moves to my other side, his large hand settling on the back of my neck. His touch possessive. Grounding. Anchoring me as pleasure threatens to sweep me away.
I feel the pressure building again, a third orgasm approaching with a speed and intensity that takes my breath away. Rett’s thrusts are growing harder, faster, his control slipping as his own release approaches.
“Mine,” he growls against my shoulder. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasp, the word breaking on a moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside me. “All yours.”
His teeth graze my shoulder, not yet claiming, just a promise of what’s to come. “And I’m yours,” he says, his voice rough with emotion and need. “All of me. Everything I am.”
The declaration pushes me closer to the edge, a swell of emotion adding to the physical pleasure building within me. I’m close, so close, teetering on the brink of an orgasm that promises to be even more intense than the ones before.
Rett seems to sense it, his thrusts becoming more focused. “Come for me,” he commands, his voice a low, authoritative rumble. “Come for your alpha.”
The command, coupled with a particularly deep thrust, sends me over the edge. I come with a cry, my body clenching around him, waves of pleasure washing over me with an intensity that leaves me breathless, trembling.
And as I peak, as my body tightens around him in rhythmic pulses, Rett makes his claim. His teeth sink into the junction of my neck and shoulder, completing the circle, the fourth and final claiming that seals our bond.
The sensation is indescribable. A feeling of completion.
And through it all, Rett continues to move within me, his thrusts growing faster, deeper, as his own release approaches. I feel him begin to swell, the base of his cock expanding in the unmistakable, intimidating beginning of a knot.
A flicker of real “that won’t fit” panic shoots through me. My body instinctively tries to clench, to resist.
Rett feels it immediately. He stills, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pants against my shoulder. “Zoe,” he groans, the word a question, a plea, a warning.
“I can’t,” I whimper.
“Yes, you can,” Tristan’s voice is a low, confident purr. “You were made for us, sweetheart. Let us help you.”
