“Tell us,” Piers corrects, gently though. “Whatever you need.”
What I need is for Forsythe to not have backed away from me like I was some diseased rat in the kitchen earlier. What I need is for him and Court and Thay to all be here with me now. Couldn’t they have waited a single day, made sure I got settled, before they went off to do their princely duties?
Yousent Thayer and Courtland with him, I remind myself.You didn’t want him to be alone.
“Why couldn’t he stay?” I whisper. “And why are you so far away? And why did Court and Thayer leave?”
“Oh, love,” Grieves sighs. “Can we come into your nest? Is that what you need?”
I give a jerky nod and neither of them waste any time scrambling into the mound of blankets and pillows, burrowing under them until they're pressed against my sides. Some of the tension eases out of me, and I slump back.
“Better, sunshine?” Piers asks, looping an arm over the back of the couch and around my shoulders, not holding me necessarily, but letting the weight of it fall on my shoulders, a reminder that he’s there. That they’re with me.
I nod. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank us, bubbles. Anything you want or need just ask for, we’ll give it to you, yeah?”
It's on the tip of my tongue to argue that history has proven they don’t necessarily mean it. But I’m too tired. Too worn down, emotionally and physically.
So I focus on filling my belly—easier to do now that they’re so close to me—and when I’ve stuffed as much lasagna into me as I can, Piers whisks away my plate and I snuggle down, feeling drowsy.
They stay right there with me, pressed against my sides and I feel safe and cared for as I drift off to sleep.
I doze on and off throughout the day, tangling myself around Grieves or Piers as I sleep, only to wake up feeling slightly abashed at how I apparently treat them like my own personal stuffies while I’m out of it.
Neither of them seem to mind though, holding me just as tight, stroking hands over my arms, my back, my thighs, to urge me back to sleep.
I wake one time to find myself cuddled into Grieves’ side, tucked under his arm, my head on his chest. His impressive erection pressing into my inner thigh since I have my leg thrown over his hips. My pussy is pressed against him, warm and achy and embarrassingly wet.
I’m half asleep and horny and jetlagged. My brain isn’t working fully, and so my hips roll, just the slightest bit, grinding against his hip, hoping like hell he doesn’t notice.
But he does notice, of course he does.
He sucks in a sharp breath and tenses, like he’s worried I’ll flee if he doesn’t hold himself just so. Or maybe he’s worried I’ll stop.
I really don’t want to stop. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea to keep going.
Who are you fooling, Ren? It's a terrible idea to keep going. And you know it.
But it feels really good, and so I do it again. His cock jerks against my leg and that only makes me want this more. His big hand slides down my spine until it’s pressing against my tailbone, holding me still.
Fuck.
He doesn’t want this, despite his body’s reaction.
Face flaming with embarrassment and shame, I try to pull back, to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let me go anywhere, holding me against him as a low growl bleeds out of his chest and rumbles through my body.
“Feeling needy, omega?” Piers asks as he shifts behind me, pressing into my back. “Do you need us to help with that?”
“No,” I say quickly. But the denial is breathy and doesn’t sound very convincing.
Grieves tsks. Encouraging my hips to roll into him again, sending a spark of arousal through me when my clit grinds against his hip bone. “You sure about that, bubbles? Because yousmell like a needy little omega who needs her pack to take care of her.”
“Let us take care of you,” Piers murmurs against my throat. There’s a hint of pleading in his voice like he needs this as badly as I do. This moment of pleasure—of connection—between me and my scent matched mates.
We’ve been together, but not reallytogether.
I might regret it later. But right now? I want this. With them.
