Ever tightens his hold, pressing his lips against my neck, kissing and licking my exposed skin.
Nash is watching, even as my head falls back and my eyes start to roll back into my head.
The pressure is building ridiculously fast. I can feel the orgasm right there.
Until Shiloh stops. Everything. His tongue. His fingers. All of it just stops.
“No.” Tears are a real danger, here, because this is torture.
“Two.” Nash’s voice makes me want to punch him.
I can’t do this again. There’s no way.
Until Ever bites my neck and his dick jerks against my back. Once more, I’m dragged into the pleasure the three of them bring me, and I know there’s nothing I can do.
I can’t escape Ever’s grip. I can’t move away from Shiloh’s mouth. I can’t hide from Nash’s intense gaze.
I don’twantit to stop. But I’m not going to admit that to them.
“You’re such a perfect woman.” Shiloh breathes on my core, and the whole body tremors that come as a result make it impossible to reply.
There aren’t any smart ass remarks I can make here. Nothing I can do to take back the power. Not unless I tell him to stop.
And I won’t do that.
Instead, I take Nash’s punishment. Because this is his. Shiloh and Ever may be the ones acting, but Nash controls the strings here.
Fuck.
I’m going to come, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Slap.
My whole body jolts at the sting against my pussy. Shock rips through me so fast it steals the breath from my lungs, sharp enough to feel like pain before it melts into something far more dangerous.
Shiloh smiles against me like he knows exactly what he’s done, his hand still there, firm and possessive, like he has no intention of letting me retreat from it.
A broken sound catches in my throat, but Ever only tightens his hold, anchoring me harder against him. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make it clear I’m not going anywhere. That I don’t get to twist free, don’t get to hide from what they’re pulling out of me.
Heat crashes through me anyway, hot and humiliating and impossible to separate from the sting still echoing through my body.
And through all of it, Nash watches.
He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t need to. His gaze is a hand all its own, heavy and unrelenting, pinning me open in a way Ever’s arms never could. This isn’t just about what they’re doing to me. It’s about making me feel every second of the fact that he allowed it. That he ordered it. That he can stand there, fully in control, and watch me come apart under someone else’s mouth and hands because it still belongs to him.
My face burns. My pulse is chaos. I can’t tell if I want to look at him or can’t bear to.
“That’s three,” Nash says, calm as sin.
And somehow that’s worse than if he’d sounded angry. Worse than if he’d barked the order. That steady, measured approval strips me raw, leaves nowhere for the shame or the need to go except deeper.
Shiloh makes a low, satisfied sound, like he enjoys the way I break. Ever’s chest is solid at my back, his restraint a silent reminder that if Nash says hold, Ever holds. If Nash says let her fall, he’ll do that too.
I’m caught between all of them, but it’s Nash I feel most. Nash in the command. Nash in the permission. Nash in the unbearable certainty that this is punishment only because he knows exactly how badly I’ll want it anyway.
Shiloh wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, then smiles at me like a man pleased with his work.
“Delicious.”
