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That sound. I slam my head back, losing my mind. Thankfully, King doesn’t miss a beat. Just keeps a methodical push/pull. In and out, hips angled so he’s rubbing against her inner walls and my aching dick. Fuck, I’ve never been this hard.
Then he pauses, and her unsteady puff of air plays over my chest.
“Gabe asked you a question, Wildfire.”
When did his voice get so dark and growly? Why do I feel it over every inch of my skin? Like a sinful caress.
Who cares what I asked? I don’t. Couldn’t care less. The only thing that matters is?—
“Gabriel, my adventure and Kingston, my joy.”
It’s hard to focus on her words when she presses a kiss over my heart. I’m her adventure?
King presses in again, and I swear he tilts his hips to stroke me harder. Katherine’s pussy tightens, ringing me like a fist.
Fuck.
Katherine pushes against my chest enough to glance over at Alex. She stares at him for a long beat as King fucks her ass. “And Alex. My lighthouse.”
I stare at her profile, jaw dropped. That’s how I’ve always seen him. My guiding light. My safety. My shelter.
The orgasm I’ve been holding off rushes up, storming me. My hands clamp over her thighs, holding her down as my muscles tighten, threatening to snap. Blood roars in my ears. My vision dims at the edge. Above me, she cries out.
King slams deep, groaning. I feel his cock flexing, surging as he comes. He presses tight, one hand braced by my hip as his other wraps around her middle, hanging on. We’re a mass of straining, mewling pleasure.
And the whole time, Katherine squeezes me so hard. They’re beautiful when they lose control. Messy hair. Shuddering breaths. Lowered lashes. Straining muscles. It’s almost like we’re becoming one. Puzzle pieces clicking together tightly.
Katherine collapses against my chest, and King’s lazy gaze meets mine, steady and sated. When can we do that again, his look asks.
Soon.
Really fucking soon.
That confident smirk reappears, and he pulls out, then crawls off the ottomans, heading for the bathroom.
Wrapping my arms around Katherine, I roll my head along the cushion and look at Alex. He’s the one missing piece of the puzzle.
8
KATHERINE
It’s dark when I wake parched. I blink, but my eyes are gritty. I didn’t take off my makeup last night, and I’m already paying for it.
Fabulous.
I extract myself from Kingston, who’s impersonating an octopus, wrapped around me like he’ll never let me go. Alex’s massive hand is clamped over my hip, and as I start to shimmy out from under it, he gives a low, sleepy growl, wraps his arm around my middle, and tugs me across the cushion to his chest.
Who knew Alexander Hunt was a cuddle bear?
“Stay,” he murmurs, adorably sleepy.
“Need water,” I mutter back, already prying his fingers from my boob.
“I’ll get it.” He sounds more awake now.
I roll over. “Stay here. I’ve got it. Sleep.” I press a kiss to his chin and he sighs, relaxing back into the pillows.
Grabbing the first shirt I find, I tug it on. My fingers slide down, searching for the buttons, but meet nubs of thread. It’s Alex’s shirt.