We took turns teasing her to orgasm, making her drink, and when she was ready, we knotted her again. My cock burned, and it hurt as much as it felt good, but I wouldn’t stop until she’d been satisfied.
None of us would.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
WREN
The water had long gone warm, edging toward cool, but I didn’t move. I just let myself drift, barely touching the surface of awareness, my limbs floating loose in the oversized tub. Jay sat behind me, his arms bracketing my hips gently, chin resting on my shoulder like he’d been there forever.
It was the first time in two days that no one was touching me withneed.
And yet, I felt them all.
Roan was in the shower in the other room—the hiss and pulse of the spray rising above the low hum of the bath jets. Rhett’s voice carried through the cracked bathroom door, warm and lazy, laced with mischief.
“We’re gonna have to burn the bed,” he called out. “Maybe the whole damn cabin.”
My face went instantly hot. I sank deeper into the water, up to my chin.
Jay laughed softly against my neck. “Ignore him.”
“I can’t,” I muttered. “He’s loud. And I’m pretty sure I ruined that mattress.”
Jay pressed a kiss to my temple. “It’s not ruined. It’s well-used.”
God.
Two days. That’s all it had been. Two days and I’d stopped counting knots after the fourth—or was it the fifth? I’d lost track somewhere between the last wave of heat and Roan dragging me half-conscious into the shower to cool down while Jay shoved a protein bar in my mouth and Rhett made me drink electrolyte water like I was going to evaporate without it.
Now the storm had passed, and I was left in the stillness.
Sore didn’t even begin to cover it.
Every inch of me ached. I was stretched, marked, claimed in ways I hadn’t been able to comprehend until it was over. I’d slept in between, in stolen hours. I’d eaten when they’d made me. I’d let go of everything I’d once thought I could control—my body, my heat, my scent, myself.
Yet, I could still feel them.
Under my skin. In my chest. Like echoes.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Jay said gently, rubbing slow circles on my stomach. His touch was always soothing. Never rushed. Never forced. Just there, grounding.
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
For a long beat, he said nothing. Then, almost whisper quiet, he exhaled the words against my temple, “You’ve lost weight.”
I blinked. “What?”
Nuzzling kisses down to the side of my neck, he half smiled against my skin. “You’re strong. You handled it, all of it. But your body’s wiped. You’re dehydrated. Your pulse is still running high. You didn’t have enough reserves going into this.”
“You’re worrying again.” I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze over my shoulder.
“Not just me,” he said, and I could tell from his tone that he was choosing his words with care. “You’ll see your doctor when you get back?”
I nodded, slower than I meant to. “Yeah. I will.” At the same time, I could almost hear the question hedidn’task.Will you go back on the suppressants?
Jay didn’t push. He never did. But his fingers hesitated at my hip, and I felt the weight of it, the way he was trying not to look like he was bracing for an answer.
