Page 82 of What We Don't Say: Part One

“Want you,” he says, simple and raw. “Been wanting you all night.”

Idris reaches past me and touches Sloane’s wrist once, a quiet command that slows him. “Easy. Let her feel you.”

Sloane obeys. He guides himself between my thighs from behind, the thick head of his cock dragging through the wetness already there, and then he pushes in—slow, deep, filling me in one long glide until his hips are flush against my ass. The stretch pulls a broken breath from my lungs. Sloane’s arm bands around my waist, holding me tight to him, and his mouth finds the back of my neck as he starts to move.

Theo’s eyes are on us the entire time.

Garrett’s thrusts into Theo stay measured and deep, the rhythm of an Alpha carrying an Omega through a spike without letting it tip into overwhelm. Theo’s free hand reaches for me whenever the intensity eases enough for him to breathe. I lean forward as far as Sloane’s hold allows and meet him. Our mouths find each other in a hungry, open kiss that tastes of heat and need. Theo makes a soft, desperate sound against my lips. Sloane’s next thrust drives deeper into me at the same moment, and the dual sensation—Theo’s mouth, Sloane’s cock—makes my vision blur.

“Good,” Idris murmurs, close enough now that his hand can rest at the side of my face, thumb stroking once along my cheekbone. “Stay with them. Let them feel you.”

Sloane fucks me with the familiar, devoted hunger I know by heart—deep rolling thrusts that drag against every sensitive place inside me, his hand sliding down to rub tight circles over my clit. Every time Theo kisses me, Sloane’s rhythm stutters and then deepens, like the sight of us together feeds the rut-edge he’s holding back. Idris keeps the pace from tipping too far too fast, quiet commands and color checks landing exactly when the air grows too thick.

“Theo. Color.”

“Green—please—”

“Callie.”

“Green.”

Garrett’s knot begins to swell. I watch it happen in the way Theo’s body tightens, the way his back arches harder, the soft punched-out sound he makes when the lock seats fully inside him. Garrett holds him through it, forehead pressed to Theo’s temple, hips giving the smallest, deepest rolls so the knot works him without pain. Theo’s release hits first—quiet and full-body, his hand crushing mine, a broken little cry leaving his throat as he clenches around Garrett and comes in long, shaking waves.Garrett follows soon after, controlled and close, keeping the pressure steady until Theo goes loose and trembling beneath him.

Theo turns toward me the moment he can breathe again.

He kisses me hard, messy, still shaking, his mouth open and seeking. Sloane’s thrusts into me turn deeper, more urgent, his fingers working my clit in tight, relentless circles while Idris’ hand stays at the back of my neck, holding me present.

“Come for him,” Idris says, voice low and certain. “Let him feel it.”

I do.

The orgasm tears through me in bright, shaking pulses, my body clenching hard around Sloane’s cock while Theo’s mouth stays on mine, swallowing every broken sound I make. Sloane swears against my shoulder and holds me through it, hips grinding deep, his own release barely leashed.

Idris looks at him over my shoulder. “Now.”

Sloane comes with a low, guttural sound, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside me in hot, heavy pulses. His arm locks around my waist hard enough to bruise, face pressed to the back of my neck as the rut-edge finally breaks. He stays there, breathing hard, still buried deep, while Theo’s kisses turn softer against my mouth and Garrett keeps one steady hand on Theo’s back.

The room is quiet except for the sound of everyone breathing.

Idris is the one who moves first. He reaches for the water glass he must have brought earlier, helps me take a few careful sips while Sloane is still wrapped around me, then does the same for Theo. He draws the nearest blanket higher over all of us, tucking it around my hip and Theo’s shoulder with the same quiet precision he brings to everything. His hand settles at my ankle again, thumb moving in slow, grounding circles.

When the room settles, Sloane is still wrapped around me and Theo is still holding my hand. Garrett keeps him warm through the aftershocks, and Idris moves through the nest with water, blankets, and that quiet look that says he has already checked every breath twice.

“Drink,” Idris says, bringing the glass to my mouth before I can decide whether my arms work. His other hand slides beneath my head, lifting me just enough, and I take three obedient swallows because the water is cool and his voice leaves no room for nonsense.

Sloane kisses my shoulder again, then my neck, then the corner of my jaw when I tilt my head. He's still hot behind me, still not fully out of the rut-edge, but his hands are gentle now, almost worshipful where they smooth over my stomach.

“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper.

Sloane smiles against my skin. “You’re welcome.”

“I wasn’t thanking you.”

“You were thinking about it.” He nips lightly below my ear, and when I laugh, he makes a pleased sound that vibrates through my back. “There’s my girl.”

Theo’s fingers twitch against the blanket. His eyes open halfway, searching before he knows what he's searching for, and I lift my hand from Sloane’s arm.

Theo finds it immediately.