A smirk tugs at the corner of Hayes’s mouth just before he shifts, standing before me, his cock level with my face. With my cheek pressed to Beck’s clothed thigh, Hayes moves forward, bending down so that the tip of his cock paints my lips with his precum. I stick my tongue out, lapping at him while Ford stays still, as if he’s relishing this moment. And then, Hayes fists his girth and feeds it into my mouth that I willingly open for him.
“There’s a good girl,” Hayes growls.
“So beautiful for us like this,” Beck says as he smooths my hair away from my face.
Hayes stops when he triggers my gag reflex. “Think you can take more, beautiful?”
I nod, my mouth already open, my tongue flicking out to taste him. He groans, a deep, guttural sound, as I try to unhinge my jaw as much as I can, my cheeks hollowing out as I suckslowly, teasingly. Hayes’s hips twitch, his control faltering with each languid pull of my mouth.
Fucking hell, his cock is just about the size of an Alpha’s.
Behind me, Ford’s hips finally start to move, each thrust deep and measured, propelling me forward onto Hayes with every motion. His knot pops in and out of me, mixing the burn with the electricity as it sends me soaring. Beck’s fingers are so soft in my hair, as if he’s making sure absolutely nothing goes wrong while I’m staked on his packmates.
Why did I fight this for so long?
It’s intense, the feeling of being completely filled, completely possessed. Their hands are everywhere, gripping, guiding, using me for their pleasure, and it only serves to heighten mine. I want them to bite me, to nip my skin all over, to mark me as theirs.
Then, Beck isn’t just watching. His voice is at my ear, his breath hot against the shell as he whispers filthy words, his fingers tracing the line of my spine. He watches me, his eyes taking in every gasp, every shiver.
“Look at you,” he mutters, “stuffed to the brim. Can’t wait to get my dick in your ass. Plugging all of those beautiful holes until you can’t run from us anymore.”
His hand snakes between my legs, his fingers finding my clit, stroking it in perfect, maddening circles, sending me spiraling.
I can’t handle it.
It’s too much.
I’m losing myself…
The world whites out. My sounds, muffled by Hayes’s pulsing cock. My fingernails dig half-moons into the cushions of the couch as my body begins to buck like a bitch in heat. The fabric of the couch burns against my knees. Hayes’s grip tightens around my neck as my spine bows backward. The sound rising in my throat collides with his thickness, transforming into something between a gag and a moan.
My jaw aches. My lungs burn. My thighs tremble against the cushions of the couch. Three points of contact keep me from collapsing: Hayes’s hand gripping the nape of my neck, Ford’s hands gripping my hips, Beck’s lips at my ear whispering words I can barely process through the roar of blood in my ears.
“Oh shit, Lo…” Hayes’s voice breaks.
His muscles tense. A twitch against my tongue, then salt and heat flood my mouth, sliding down my throat before I can think to swallow.
I blink up through tears. My throat works around him. Once. Twice. Three times, trying to swallow all of him down.
The pressure between my legs intensifies, pulsing in time with my thundering heartbeat. My vision sparkles at the edges. A whimper escapes me, high, broken, desperate, as my body jerks against hands that hold me exactly where they want me.
Hayes pulls back so slowly I feel every millimeter of distance between us expand. His palm—warm and heavy—cradles my neck, the pads of his fingers drifting over the dampness along my little baby hairs as though he hasn’t just driven me to the brink of collapse.
Light flickers over his dark lashes and the slight curve of his jaw, and when he murmurs, “That’s it. You’re perfect. You did so good,” his gasp vibrates through my skull, shattering me more thoroughly than the orgasm ever could.
My forehead presses back into the fabric of Beck’s pants, my breath ragged. Ford’s lips brush the side of my face, soft and urgent.
I want their knots. All of them. I want to be plugged so furiously and so greatly that I can’t move for an hour.
Beck’s fingers trace down the ridge of my spine, pressing just enough to anchor me. My body still quivers around Ford’s cock; I clamp my eyes shut against the overload of sensation.
Maybe we aren’t done yet.
Maybe this is just the beginning.
And maybe this could feel safe enough to call home.
CHAPTER 22
