Page 16

Sierra

M y world narrowed to sensations. The soft furs beneath me, the weight of Callum's body alongside mine. The heat of three gazes fixed on me with predatory intensity. The fever coursing through my veins made everything sharper, brighter, more intense. Each breath felt like fire in my lungs.

Callum's kiss deepened, one hand tangling in my silver hair while the other traced possessive patterns against my collarbone. I was dimly aware of movement on either side of me. Rowen and Archer worked in perfect sync, their hands finding the edges of my borrowed clothing.

"Let us take care of you," Rowen murmured, his fingers hooking under the hem of my tunic.

I nodded frantically, beyond words, beyond shame. The rational part of my brain—the part that should have been screaming caution—was drowning in a sea of primal need.

Cool air kissed my skin as they worked together to strip me, the fabric sliding away under deft fingers.

Archer's ice-blue eyes darkened as more of my flesh was revealed, his gaze lingering on the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts, the silver piercings in my lower lip catching the dappled light.

"Beautiful," he breathed, one finger tracing the line of my jaw. "So fucking beautiful."

The coarse language from his usually controlled lips sent a fresh surge of heat between my thighs. I arched into his touch, shameless in my need.

Callum broke our kiss only to trail his lips down my throat, pausing to speak against my pulse point. "I can feel your heartbeat," he whispered, his breath hot against my fevered skin. "Racing for us. Only for us."

His teeth scraped lightly over the sensitive juncture where my neck met my shoulder, and I knew—some primal part of me recognized—this was where his claiming mark would go. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, I tilted my head, offering better access, a whimper escaping my lips.

"So eager," he traced the spot with his tongue. "So ready to be claimed."

Rowen's hands slid up my now-bare sides, his touch both reverent and possessive. "The headboard," he said, voice low and commanding. "Hold onto the vines, little witch. And keep your hands there."

I looked up at the intricate wooden headboard with its twisting vines and leaves. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to reach up and grasp two of the loops, my fingers curling around the smooth wood.

"Good girl," Archer murmured, the praise sending a shiver through me. His hands replaced Callum's on my ribs, sliding upward until they cupped the undersides of my breasts. "And what happens if you let go?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with promise and threat. My breath caught in my throat.

"You'll be punished," Rowen supplied, his obsidian eyes glittering with dark promise. "And while you might enjoy that another time, tonight we need to ease this heat first."

The authoritative tone in his voice. The absolute certainty that there would be other nights, other opportunities—made something molten pool in my core.

"Don't let go," Callum warned, his lips moving lower, trailing fire across my collarbone.

I nodded, my fingers tightening around the wooden loops. "I won't," I gasped, the promise barely audible.

Archer's thumbs brushed across my nipples, and I arched into the touch with a broken moan. The sensation was almost too much for my oversensitized skin, pleasure verging on pain. He did it again, more firmly this time, watching my face as I gasped.

"So responsive." he bent to replace one thumb with his mouth.

The wet heat of his lips closing around my nipple tore a cry from my throat. My back bowed off the bed, instinctively seeking more. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks of pleasure-pain shooting straight to my core.

Callum chuckled against my other breast, his breath teasing before he too claimed a nipple with his mouth. The dual sensation of both men worshipping my breasts had me writhing beneath them, incoherent pleas falling from my lips.

"Please—I need—" I couldn't form complete sentences, couldn't articulate what I wanted beyond more, now, please.

Rowen's weight shifted on the bed, and I felt his large hands on my knees, gently but firmly parting my thighs.

Cool air hit the most intimate part of me, already slick with arousal.

I should have felt exposed, vulnerable. Instead, I felt powerful as I watched his eyes darken at the sight of me spread open for him.

"Look how wet she is for us," he growled, the words clearly intended for Archer and Callum though his gaze remained fixed between my legs. "Dripping."

His thumbs stroked the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, moving closer to where I needed him most but never quite touching. The teasing was exquisite torture.

"Rowen," I begged, hips lifting in blatant invitation. "Please."

"Please what?" his voice was deceptively casual though I could hear the strain of his control. "Tell me what you need, Sierra."

The fever was consuming my rational mind, burning away inhibition and shame until only raw need remained. "Touch me," I gasped. "Taste me. Something. Anything."

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Since you asked so nicely."

He lowered himself between my thighs, maintaining eye contact until the last possible moment. Then his mouth was on me, hot and demanding, his tongue parting my folds in one long, possessive lick.

The sensation was electric. My head fell back against the pillows, a high, keening sound escaping my throat as pleasure coursed through me.

My hands instinctively tried to leave the headboard, wanting to tangle in Rowen's hair, to pull him closer, but I remembered the command at the last second and gripped the wooden loops tighter.

Rowen hummed approval against my center, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure.

His hands gripped my thighs firmly, holding me open for his feast. Every broad stroke of his tongue sent waves of heat cascading through my body, building a pressure inside me that threatened to shatter me completely.

Callum moved up from my breast, his lips trailing a path of fire along my neck once more.

"Right here," he whispered, teeth scraping over that sensitive juncture again.

"This is where my claiming mark will go.

Where everyone will see that you're mine.

" His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "Ours."

The possessiveness in his tone should have rankled, but in my heat-addled state, it only stoked the flames higher. I tilted my head again, offering better access, a wordless plea.

"Not yet," he murmured, tongue tracing patterns over the spot. "When you come for us. When you're ours completely. When my knot is stretching you and locking me inside."

On my other side, Archer had moved from my breast to my ribs, trailing open-mouthed kisses lower.

I felt the sharp points of his fangs dragging lightly over my skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake.

The contrast between the danger of those sharp points and the tender press of his lips had me trembling.

"Your skin tastes like magic," he murmured against my hip bone. "Sweet and electric."

Between my thighs, Rowen's tongue circled my clit before sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth.

Pleasure exploded behind my eyelids, my back arching as a strangled cry tore from my throat.

My legs tried to close around his head instinctively, but his broad shoulders kept me spread wide for his attention.

The pressure was building inside me, a coiling tension that demanded release. But every time I approached the edge, Rowen would ease back, bringing me down just enough to build me higher the next time.

It was maddening, exquisite torture.

"Please," I begged, beyond pride, beyond coherent thought. "Please, I need more. I need?—"

"What do you need, little flower?" Callum whispered against my ear, his hand replacing Archer's on my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. "Tell us."

The heat consumed the last of my inhibitions, leaving only raw, animal need. "I need one of you inside me," I gasped, hips bucking against Rowen's mouth. "Please. I need to be fucked. Now."

My crude language drew groans from all three men, their control visibly fraying. I felt powerful in that moment, despite being spread beneath them, despite being the one begging. I was the one reducing these powerful supernatural beings to creatures of base instinct.

Rowen pulled back slightly, his obsidian eyes nearly black with desire, his lips glistening with my arousal. "Is that what you want?" he asked, voice rough as he slid one long finger through my folds, teasing my entrance. "You want to be fucked? Filled? Claimed?"

"Yes," I hissed, trying to push down onto his finger, desperate for penetration. "Yes, please."

He pushed just the tip of his finger inside, a maddening tease that had me sobbing with frustration. "Do you want my knot, Sierra?" he asked, the word 'knot' sending a fresh flood of heat through me. "Do you want me to fill you, lock inside you, pump you full of my seed until it takes?"

The primal part of me, the omega nature I was only beginning to understand, howled in approval at his words. Images flashed through my mind. Rowen above me, inside me, his knot swelling to bind us together, his seed flooding my womb.

"Yes," I moaned, shocking myself with how desperately I wanted it. "Yes, knot me, fill me."

His finger pushed deeper, curling inside me to stroke against a spot that had me seeing stars. "I'm going to knot you so tight," he promised, voice dropping to a growl. "Going to put a baby in this perfect belly."

Some rational part of my brain reminded me that I was on magical birth control—Gran had insisted when I turned sixteen, saying it was a precaution all female witches took until they were ready for children.

But the thought of Rowen trying to breed me, of him being so consumed with lust and possession that he wanted to impregnate me, sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through me.

"Please," I whimpered, my hips working against his hand, chasing more pressure, more friction. "I need more."

Archer's hand had reached my other hip, his fingers digging into the flesh there as he positioned himself alongside me. "So beautiful when you beg," he murmured, leaning down to drag his fangs along the underside of my breast. "Could listen to you plead all night."

Callum's mouth returned to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark—not the claiming bite, but a precursor, a promise. His hand slid down my stomach, fingers tangling with Rowen's between my thighs. Together, they worked me higher, Rowen's finger inside me while Callum's circled my clit.

The dual stimulation had me writhing between them, my hands clenching the wooden vines of the headboard so tightly I feared they might snap. The pleasure was overwhelming, building to a crescendo that I both craved and feared.

"That's it," Rowen encouraged, adding a second finger alongside the first, stretching me deliciously. "Take what you need. Show us how much you want our knots, our claiming marks, our seed."

The filthy words in his cultured voice pushed me higher, the taboo of it, the raw animalistic nature of what he was promising. My body was no longer my own—it belonged to the heat, to the need, to the three men surrounding me with their hands and mouths and promises.

Archer's fangs scraped harder against the swell of my breast, and the sharp sting of almost-pain contrasted exquisitely with the pleasure building between my thighs. "Going to mark you here," he murmured against my skin. "A secondary claim, right above your heart."

The thought of carrying all their marks, of being claimed so thoroughly, had me gasping, trembling on the edge of release.

Rowen must have felt it, the way my inner walls fluttered around his fingers, because he curled them more firmly against that spot inside me while Callum increased the pressure on my clit.

"Come for us," Callum commanded against my neck, his teeth pressing just hard enough to threaten a real bite. "Let go, Sierra. Show us you're ours."

It was like a dam breaking. Pleasure crashed through me in devastating waves, my back arching off the bed as a broken cry tore from my throat. My inner walls clenched rhythmically around Rowen's fingers, my thighs trembling with the force of my release.

Through the haze of overwhelming sensation, I heard Rowen's appreciative groan, felt Callum's approving murmur against my neck, sensed Archer's hungry gaze tracking every expression that crossed my face.

But even as the first orgasm began to ebb, the heat remained, insistent and demanding. If anything, the release had only stoked it higher, proving to my body that relief was possible but temporary.

"More," I gasped, hips still working against their hands. "Please, I need more. I need one of you inside me. All of you. Please."