The edge of another orgasm glimmered on the horizon.
I looked up at Griff, watching as he stroked himself faster, his movements becoming increasingly desperate. The sight of him was my undoing.
With a cry that was half a sob, I came again, my body convulsing, my pussy clamping down on Bishop’s knot. The orgasm ripped through me, an agonizingly blissful thing that left me quaking with aftershocks.
With a hoarse cry, Bishopdrove into me one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he came inside me.
A wave of warmth spread inside me, and my body trembled in response.
But the heat, that relentless, insatiable heat, was still there.
I felt Bishop’s knot deflate, then his softening cock slipped free from me. Before I could process the loss, though, I was being moved again.
Gentle but firm hands rolled me onto my back and I found myself staring up at Eamon. His expression was a mixture of raw hunger and fierce tenderness that made my heart ache. Looking at him right now, I didn’t see the doctor. I saw my mate who needed to claim me as his own.
His gaze drifted down my body, taking in the evidence of our combined pleasure, the bite marks on my neck, the way my thighs quaked. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
“You’re doing so well, sweet girl,” he said soothingly. “Are you ready for more?”
I nodded tentatively, unable to speak.
He settled between my thighs, the tip of his cock brushing my dripping wet pussy. He was different than the others, not as thick as Elias, not as long as Bishop, but hard and eager and perfect.
He entered me slowly, making me gasp. My hands fisted in the blankets as he filled me, inch by agonizing inch.
He took his time, a controlled, almost clinical precision that was as maddening as it was exhilarating. He watched my face, my reactions, adjusting his angle, his pace, drawing out every gasp, shudder, and moan.
“Eamon,” I breathed, my hips rocking against him, desperate for more. “Please…”
He smiled. “Patience, little mate. You’ll comewhen I say you can come.”
He moved with a steady, relentless rhythm, each stroke a masterful blend of pleasure and torment. His hands roamed my body, tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts, his touch a brand that seared my skin. His knot was next, swelling inside me. Before long, it locked in place and my eyes rolled back in my head. My mind splintered. My hips bucked wildly, seeking a release I was becoming more and more desperate for.
He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “Come for me,” he whispered.
And I did. I shattered again.
With a low groan, Eamon drove into me with one last hard thrust, his hot seed erupting inside of me in spurts. When he was finished, he collapsed against me, his body a comforting weight as his knot slowly deflated, his breath warm against my neck.
I thought, for a fleeting moment, that it was over.
I was wrong.
Strong, wiry arms—I knew they were Nox’s even before I saw him—lifted me from the cot. I felt like a ragdoll in his grip as he positioned me on my hands and knees, and I felt Nox settle behind me, Eamon still supporting me from the front.
Then I felt a slick finger probing my other entrance.
I tensed, a flicker of apprehension cutting through the haze of desire.
He couldn’t mean to… I couldn’t possibly take him there…
“Shhh,” Eamon soothed, his hands stroking my hair. “Just relax, little mate. We’ll take care of you.”
Nox’s finger was gentle, patient. He used the combined slickness from my body and the others to ease the way, circling the tight ring of muscle before pressing inside, just to the first knuckle.
I gasped, intense pleasure mingling with a deep, burning blush of shame. It was so intimate, so forbidden, and the fact that they were all watching, that they were all a part of this, only made it more potent.
“Look at that blush,” Eamon murmured. “So pretty. But you like it, sweet mate. You like being taken everywhere, even there, don’t you?”
