Page 74 of Saddle and Scent (Saddlebrush Ridge #1)

He comes with a roar, hips jerking up so hard I nearly lose my balance, knot swelling and locking us together in one perfect, brutal snap. I collapse against his chest, every bone in my body turned to jelly.

We stay like that for a long time, joined, his arms locked around me like he’ll never let go. And I don’t want him to.

But Callum’s not done.

After the first wave passes, he shifts his grip, lifts me by the waist, and stands up—still knotted, still buried deep.

He pins me against the wall, his mouth on my shoulder, and fucks me so hard and fast I can’t even breathe.

Every thrust lights me up, every bite of his teeth makes my pussy clench and my head spin.

I come again, screaming this time, and when he finally lets go, it’s because I’m shaking so hard neither of us can stand.

He carried me to the bed, knotted thick inside me, his hands bracketing my hips so carefully I almost laughed at the contrast between the way he’d just wrecked me and the way he gingerly laid me back onto the mattress.

My limbs were limp with aftershock, muscles twitching, every inch of me humming and raw.

I was gasping, and then I was crying, and then the tears turned to laughter, just a spluttery, broken sound that didn’t make sense even to me.

I couldn’t tell if I was high or delirious or just completely, irretrievably ruined.

He hovered over me at first, eyes wide with worry, like he was afraid I’d break if he took his hands off me. But then I reached for him—just a shaky, desperate grab at his forearm—and he bent down, kissing my damp cheek, brushing the hair off my forehead.

“You okay?” he whispered, voice gone so soft I barely recognized it.

“Never better,” I choked out, then giggled again, because it was true. I’d never felt so thoroughly decimated and so completely safe.

He held me a long time, knotted and joined, letting my breathing slow, his lips grazing my temple with every exhale. My hands went numb and then tingled; I just lay there boneless and spent, letting him pet me.

For once I didn’t fight it. For once I let myself be held.

It was Beckett who appeared first, crawling up the bed on all fours, a wild gleam in his eyes and a crooked, delighted smile on his face.

He flopped down next to us, slinging one massive thigh over my legs, his hands gentle as he tucked me up against his chest. Then Wes was there too, half-draped over the other side of the bed, rubbing circles into my lower back while Callum’s cock still kept us stuck together.

They made a little cocoon around me, three walls of heat and muscle and subtle, private affection.

I was still crying, and none of them seemed the least bit freaked out by it.

“You did so good, Bell,” Beckett murmured, nuzzling my collarbone. “Fucking perfect Omega.”

“Proud of you,” Wes whispered, and I almost laughed again, because it sounded so much like something a kindergarten teacher would say, but it worked. I felt proud. I felt wanted. I felt like I belonged there, locked in with them, their hands and mouths and cocks and hearts, all of it for me.

I realized, somewhere in that delirious, shaking haze, that I’d stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’d stopped bracing for disappointment, stopped thinking about how I was going to screw it up, push them away, or let myself down. I just felt… held.

Wes and Beckett crowd around us, holding me, petting me, telling me how good I am, how much they love me. And I believe them. For the first time ever, I really, truly do.

When Callum’s knot finally goes down, I collapse into the mess of blankets, a sweaty, fucked-out Omega with three very proud Alphas.

But there’s one more thing.

They all look at each other, and then at me, and I know what’s coming before they even move.

Wes is first. He leans in, kisses my neck, and bites down just hard enough to leave a mark.

“Mine,” he whispers.

Beckett follows, sinking his teeth into the soft curve where my neck meets my shoulder.

“Ours,” he says, and it’s both a promise and a prayer.

Callum waits until the others are done, then takes my chin in his hand and bites me just above the collarbone, the sensation sharp and grounding.

“Always,” he says, voice rough.

And just like that, I’m theirs.

Marked, bonded, sealed.

I close my eyes, let the scents and sounds of them fill me up. Wes’s laugh, Beckett’s steady heartbeat, Callum’s ragged breath. The taste of pie still on my lips, the warmth of their bodies pressing in from every side.

I never thought I’d have this.

Never thought I’d want it, let alone need it.

But now, I can’t imagine anything else.

We pile together in the nest of ruined sheets and sweat, tangled up in each other and the fading echoes of everything we just did. For a long, perfect stretch, none of us say a word. There’s nothing left to say.

Then Beckett, ever the baker, breaks the silence with a satisfied sigh. “We’re never leaving this bed, are we?”

Wes grins, lazy and sated. “Nope. Someone better start bringing snacks.”

Callum just snorts, but he’s smiling, too.

I smile, too, and close my eyes, finally at peace.

This is home. This is forever.

Now I can truly accept that I was fated to have a pack.

One built not by blood or bond alone—but by every quiet moment in the barn, every heat-tamed night, every saddle ride that brought me closer to love, and every scent-marked touch that reminded me I was never alone.

This is the life I never thought I’d have.

My story began with walls and wary glances, but it ends here—with open arms, tangled sheets, and three hearts who matched mine from the start.

This is Saddle and Scent.

And it’s ours.

Forever.

F.I.N

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