"I guess we'll have todistracther tomorrow," I quip with an amused smile.
Damon huffs, more relieved than disappointed, as we carefully cover Emery with a blanket.
“Should we let her rest?” Damon asks, glancing down at Emery as she curls into a ball under the blanket.
“She wouldn’t want us to leave,” I say, kicking off my shoes and climbing onto the left side of the bed. I motion for him to join me. “Just sit down, Damon. She wants you here.”
"I never thought you and I would ever share a bed again," Damon confesses, running a hand through his hair as he sits beside Emery and rests his head against the headboard. “I can’t say I like it.”
“I don’t either.” My gaze lingers on Emery's peaceful face as she snuggles against the pillow. "But she does. And that’s all that matters.”
THE GENTLE BEASTS
EMERY
It’squiet when I wake up. Peaceful. My heart isn’t racing. There isn’t a sheen of fear coating my skin. When my eyes open, I don’t have an instinct to be on guard. To survive. Even in the fading moonlight of early morning, I can see them. So clearly. I canfeelthem. Cocooning me. Shielding me from harm. Their body heat radiates into my skin, and I find such deep comfort in their warmth.
I turn my neck to the left and let out a small, airy breath as I outline Quin’s profile, the stoic ridge of his nose, the angular sharpness of his chin. I swallow, my gaze dancing down his bare chest that rises and falls with every beautiful breath.
And then I look to my right.
The beauty never ends.
Damon lies to my right, a tempting power emanating from his resting features. I'm in awe of him, of the strength that pulses from the sculpted outline of his pecs, the rolling hills of his biceps. My core tightens with desire as I take in the sight of him.
As I lie between Quin and Damon, I feel physically trapped between the comfort and euphoria of heaven and the burning passion of hell. And I’m grateful. I am so fucking blessed that I no longer need to decide between dark and light.
I can have them both.
Have them. Hold them. Taste them. Ride them. And holy shit, do I want them. So bad. I ache for their touch. For their lips to roam my body. To claim me. To make me theirs. Now and forever.
After all the suffering we’ve experienced this last week, this last year, we all deserve to feel something beautiful, to see stars so bright that all the pain is blinded, even if it's only momentary.
I squirm a little, feeling insecure about the bubbling lust spreading through my veins. But I push it aside, determined to embrace the connection that binds us. I reach down to where fabric is the only thing that stands in my way of ultimate pleasure. I don’t need a collar or rings to prove I am theirs. That I am, both body and goddamn soul, at their mercy.
Lying on my back, I control my breathing as I stroke both their cocks, tenderly rubbing, squeezing, hoping to awaken the genies that will grant me my ultimate wish.
I start slow, deliberate, each movement a whisper of longing and bliss. The quiet cabin amplifies the needy sounds—the gentle rustle of sheets, the hushed breaths, the rhythmic pulse of my desire. I lose myself in the sensations, the warmth of their bodies, the weight of their hellish presence.
As I continue, a mountain of pleasure builds within me. Quin and Damon respond to my touch and my core clenches, soaking the pulsing space between my thighs. They grow under my ministrations, under my command to sign the words they’ve whispered, to seal their vows, to deliver the promise of unity.
Despite their tumultuous history, despite the fact that they’re so very different, there must be a connection between Damonand Quin. Their eyes snap open in unison, and I know I’ve awakened my gentle beasts.
“Good morning,” I whisper, cheeks flush with anticipation as their dark, knowing gazes seep into my pebbling skin. I lick my lips, conjuring confidence within myself before I prop up and turn around, kneeling as I hover above them. “Off.”
Quin and Damon exchange a brief look. It’s charged and tense and chock-full of years of resentment and mistrust. But they can trust me. They can let go of the past. My ribs expand, lifting my breasts as I suck in a deep, impatient breath.
“Off,” I say again, glancing down at their briefs. “Now.”
Quinton blinks and then glances at Damon, smirking. “You heard the boss, D.”
Damon’s reaction isn’t that of a charmed man; it’s one of a commander whose soldier just broke rank. “I don’t take orders, Miss Jones,” he rasps, snaking his hand down to his cock, stroking it with teasing motions. “If you want this, you’re going to have to say please.”
“Please?” I ask, feigning a pout and sultry voice. “Sir.”
Damon expels a low growl, eyes hardening. “Your tone leaves much to be desired, Miss Jones.”
“Oh, come on, D,” Quinton groans, rubbing himself as he strips off his briefs. “Give her a little taste.” He tilts his head, lips puffy and red. “She deserves a lick or two.”
