Emmy held his shaking frame closer, cradling his head so he could bury his face against her neck. Her warmth seeped into skin that felt flayed open, body and soul both exposed and somehow …safe.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered against his hair. “We’ve got you. Always.”
Behind him, Zander was already moving to release the suspension ropes and remove all the clamps and weights, his movements efficient but gentle. Working together without needing words, the triangle completing itself even in this moment of breaking and rebuilding.
Spence sobbed harder, but these tears felt different.
These tears felt like coming home.
Chapter 21
Zander watched them, Emmy cradling Spencer’s trembling frame, their wolf undone in his surrender, tears carving paths down flushed cheeks while rope marks bloomed across his skin.
Satisfaction swelled in Zander’s chest — Emmy had navigated the storm with flawless instinct. She’d coaxed, ordered, and threatened their boy in the perfect ratio to bring his buried shame to the surface, and then she’d talked him through why he was wrong without judgment.
Zander’s link with Spence allowed him to feel the cathartic flood of relief, both literal and metaphorical. His cramps were easing, and the soul-deep security of being seen and cherished in his most fractured places was like a balm to his boy’s soul.
Love poured across the bond that shouldn’t exist yet, Spence’s devotion a steady, ever-present current, along with Emmy’s affection and her fierce protectiveness.
After centuries of cool detachment, it had taken Zander some time to get used to the constant warmth, the love he received in a steady stream from his boy.
And now, even without a link, he could sense love from Emmy, too.
He hoped she’d want more with him soon, but was prepared to wait until she came to him. With her shields, any vampire magic would have to be her idea, not his.
He stepped forward, cool hands joining Emmy’s on Spencer’s back, grounding him further as the tremors faded and the water slowed.
He waited several minutes after the water stopped before asking, “What are sexual submissives for, boy?”
Spencer lifted his head, eyes red-rimmed but clear, voice hoarse from sobs and the gag. “To provide pleasure, Sir.”
Zander’s smile curved slow, and he leaned in to kiss his boy’s temple. “Exactly. Dry yourself, lube your asshole, then go to the bed and prepare to pleasure your Mistress with your mouth.”
Spencer moved without hesitation, body still quivering from the enema’s aftermath as he slicked himself with careful fingers, the cool gel a soothing contrast to lingering sensitivity.
And while his boy followed his orders, Zander undressed Emmy, cool lips brushing exposed skin in trailingkisses that made her shiver and arch. She returned the favor, hands mapping his chest, nails scraping lightly over his back until he growled low, pulling her close for a deep, claiming kiss, cool lips and warm skin.
They moved to the bed together, and Zander set them up with Spencer on his knees between her legs, his mouth working her to ecstasy.
And then Zander moved behind Spencer, parted his boy’s cheeks, and pressed in without mercy, filling him deeply.
Spencer ignored his own pleasure and focused on Emmy, his tongue working in long, deliberate strokes that had her hips bucking, and her fingers threading into his hair.
Zander set a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured, each one driving Spencer’s face deeper into Emmy.
Through the link, Zander felt everything Spencer did — his boy’s raw channel clenching around him, tender from the enema but craving the fill; the throb of denied need in his cock, balls heavy and aching; the flood of pleasure as Emmy’s taste coated his tongue, her moans vibrating through him like praise.
Spencer moved his mouth to her clit and used his fingers inside her, and Emmy came in a slow, rolling wave that had her back arching, walls fluttering against Spencer’s probing fingers as he curled them just right, tongue lashing relentlessly. Love surged through Zander at the sight — his beautiful Emerald undone, fierce and graceful, her cries a symphony.
He didn’t slow, pounding deeper, the slap of cool skin on bruised ass the only sound between Emmy’s orgasms, shattering again and again, nails digging into Spencer’s shoulders, body convulsing as pleasure tore through her, scent blooming wild and spicy in the air. Zander reveled in Spencer’s struggle: the desperate fight not to come, cock throbbing untouched, his boy’s need a living fire he held back through sheer will.
And his walls clutched and throbbed around Zander’s cock, squeezing and fighting, accepting the invasion because it had no choice. Zander aimed at his boy’s prostate a dozen thrusts, making his muscles squeeze and contract around him, then decided to give him a little mercy and aim away from it.
The next crest hit Emmy like lightning, and her screams echoed as she ground against Spencer’s face. And all the while, Spencer’s walls spasmed and pulsed in visceral waves while he fought for control, desperate to find his own release but holding onto it through sheer willpower and devotion.
Zander’s own release had been building, and he finally let it go, his seed spilling deep inside Spencer in pulsing jets that prolonged the bliss, his growl low and satisfied as he held buried, claiming.
And Spencer was frozen between them, denied, assuming he wasn’t to get an orgasm.
