"Fuck, you're soaked," he murmurs, voice thick with need, and yeah, I know. I can feel it.
"Please," I pant, barely able to speak. "I can't... I need..."
He smirks, all alpha confidence and certainty. "You can. You will."
Logan strips away the rest of my clothes, then spreads my thighs wide. The heat inside me flares out of control. When his breath brushes against my slick folds, I almost lose it.
Logan's tongue flicks over me again and again, circling my clit before sucking it gently between his lips. I moan, high andwild and uncontrollable. My hands fly into his hair, clutching tightly, pulling him closer because I need more, always more.
My core throbs, dripping wet and desperate. Griff's hands steady me from behind while Xavier watches, eyes dark with hunger. Being surrounded like this makes me shudder, but it's Logan who owns me, whose touch sets my skin on fire.
When Logan breaks away, my lips are swollen and slick with saliva. I whimper, lost in sensation, struggling to find words.
"Logan," I breathe, voice thick and ragged.
"I've got you," he promises, and I know he does because he always has. He lifts me effortlessly into his arms, and I wrap around him like I was made for this. Thighs locking tight, arms around his neck.
He positions himself at my entrance, and then he's sliding inside me slowly, deliberately. Every inch is familiar territory, but it still makes me gasp and arch against him. I've felt this before, but it never gets old. The stretch, the fullness, the way he fills me completely.
The knot follows, heavy and warm, stretching me open in the most perfect way. He doesn't ask if I can handle it because we both know I can. I've taken his knot before, felt him tie us together until we're locked in place, claimed and claiming.
That knot is more than flesh pressing inside me. It's a claim, a promise, a weight that fills me completely and tells the world I'm his. It stretches me, locks us together in a way that is both overwhelming and perfect. Like I'm being taken apart and made whole all at once.
It's thick and hot, a pressure that makes me gasp and grind back against him even as it pins me down. I take all of him, his strength, his need, the raw stubborn pull of the knot that tells me he isn't letting go. Not now. Not ever.
I smirk against his skin. "You know I love this," I tease, voice low and thick with heat. "How you fill me up. How you make me yours."
He growls, deep and possessive. "You're already mine, and I'm already yours."
And damn, it feels like fire and forever. Like this is exactly where I belong.
The pressure inside me is proof of his claim. The ache burning low between my legs, the tight stretch making my body scream for more. I grind down on him, hungry for every inch, every pulse, every deep growl that rumbles from his chest when he is this deep inside me.
Being tied together like this is both surrender and power wrapped into one wild, messy, beautiful tangle. It is me taking all of him and letting him take all of me. There is no apology, no holding back. Just raw, scorching need and fierce possession.
The pressure coils tighter until I cannot hold it. My body breaks apart around him, clenching, trembling, every cry swallowed by his hand as the pleasure rips through me. I writhe beneath him, helpless in the storm, and he never lets me go. He growls again, his voice ragged against my ear, urging me to take it all, filling me deeper with every thrust.
I feel the moment he gives in. His rhythm falters, his breath turns harsh, his body locking to mine as he buries himself deep. A guttural sound rumbles from his chest, raw and unrestrained, and I feel him pulse inside me. He empties himself in hard, shuddering waves, clinging to me as though he cannot bear to lose this moment.
My eyes flutter open, my voice breaking free at last when his hand slips away. “This feels so right,” I whisper, still gasping, still trembling. “Yes.”
He lowers his forehead to mine, breath hot and uneven, holding himself inside me as if the world outside does not exist.We are both shaking, both undone, bodies tangled and wet with sweat. Neither of us moves. We stay pressed together, hearts pounding, caught in the raw heat and the truth of what we just gave each other.
I catch Griff's eyes from the nearby chair. He watches me like I'm his whole world, even if Logan is the one holding me right now. Xavier leans against the wall, quiet but alert, like a shadow ready to protect and claim when his turn comes.
I let out a shaky breath, heart pounding hard, skin slick with sweat. The storm rages outside, but in this room, wrapped in heat and claim and need, I'm safe. I'm home. I'm exactly where I belong.
Griff's voice cuts through the post-orgasmic haze, low and promising. "I'm next."
Thank the universe for the best sex I've ever had.
35
GRIFF
As Logan steps away, I pull Savannah closer, dragging her down into the worn leather chair in the corner of the basement. The storm rages outside, snow hammering the small windows and thunder rolling like a warning. The cold concrete walls close in around us, but all I feel is heat.
I hold her tight, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her skin, the wild tremble of her breath against my chest. Without thinking, without asking, I bite down on the other side of her neck. The sharp, copper-sweet taste of her blood floods my senses, raw and urgent.
