Page 40 of The Reckoning (Oakmount Elite #7)

“There’s nowhere for you to run. We aren’t leaving these woods without you, and no obstacle or person will stop us from making you ours. Not even you.” Arson’s voice comes from somewhere to the east, completing our pincer movement.

Her pace quickens, panic giving her a burst of speed. The sound of her footfalls grows louder, more careless. She’s abandoned stealth for pure flight now, crashing through the underbrush like a wounded deer.

“Liliannnn...” I call out, taunting.

I want her to be frantic when I reach her.

Just like that day outside my cell. I push harder, faster, my heart hammering against my bruised ribs.

The distance between us shrinks with every pounding footstep.

I break through a screen of ferns and pause, the air in my lungs evaporating the moment I catch sight of her.

There she is—just twenty yards ahead, weaving between trees, her golden hair wild and tangled with leaves and twigs.

The sight of her hits me like a physical blow. She’s magnificent in her desperation, all instinct and survival and raw life.

“Lilian,” I shout, my voice breaking with emotion. “We’ve got you now!”

She hesitates, half turning, and that moment of hesitation, of second-guessing herself, is all I need.

I close the distance in three long strides, catching her arm and spinning her toward me.

Her small frame crashes against my chest, and the impact catches me off balance.

We tumble to the forest floor, leaves and moss cushioning us.

I catch myself at the last minute and brace my arm against the ground to keep from crushing her with my weight.

We’re suspended in time—her beneath me, chest heaving, her blue eyes wide and sparkling, not with fear but a lingering excitement.

Rain soaks us both, plastering her shirt to her skin, revealing every rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Using my hands, I bracket her shoulders, pinning her to the ground.

“Look at what I caught.” I pant, triumph surging through me like lightning. “A little rabbit.”

She bucks against me, refusing to surrender. Her knee comes up, nearly connecting with my groin before I shift my weight to block her. The struggle is intoxicating—her strength, her defiance, even knowing it’s futile.

“Shhh,” I murmur, using one hand to brush wet hair from her face. “It’s time for me to claim my prize.”

I pin her wrists above her head with one hand, using the other to trace the delicate line of her jaw, feeling her pulse hammering beneath my fingertips.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” I question, lowering my face until we’re sharing breath. “For me to claim your ass, while my brother fucks your pussy?”

She struggles against my hold, but it’s nothing more than an act. I can see her nipples poking through the fabric of her wet shirt.

“Shhh, you don’t have to fight it anymore. You don’t have to worry about us fighting over you anymore. We want the same thing: you, and we aren’t willing to risk losing you again.” I whisper fiercely. “You’re ours, and we’re yours. Both of us.”

She relaxes against me, and I hear Arson approach, his deliberate footsteps announcing his presence.

He appears at the edge of my vision, bruised and bloodied from our earlier fight, but his eyes are clear and focused on her.

His chest heaves from both the run and at the way she looks so delicious and dirty for us.

“Looks like you’re the winner,” Arson says softly. “But that’s fine because while you claim her ass, I’ll worship her pussy.”

“Say it,” I demand, needing to hear it from her lips.

“No more running,” she breathes. “I’m both of yours.”

Fuck yes, she is.

I lower my mouth to hers, claiming what’s mine, what’s ours, as the forest bears silent witness to what was always meant to be.

She tastes of rain and fear and ours . I drink her in, savoring the moment when resistance melts into acceptance.

Arching against me, she’s no longer fighting but seeking, demanding.

Even though I don’t want to, I break the kiss, pulling back just enough to see her face.

Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with adrenaline and desire. The chase has awakened something in her, too—something wild and hungry that matches the beast inside me.

The tension between us crackles like electricity before a storm. Years of separation, of longing, of broken pieces trying to fit back together. None of us is the same person we were before. We’re all scarred, all haunted, all hungry for something we can’t name.

Reaching for her hand, one I’m still pinning above her head, Arson laces his fingers through hers with deliberate slowness. The sight of it—his scarred knuckles against her pale skin—sends a jolt of possessiveness through me that’s immediately tempered by how right and complete this moment feels.

“The three of us,” I say, releasing her other wrist at last. “That’s how it was always supposed to be.”

She sits up slowly, forcing me to shift back onto my knees. The forest floor has left impressions on her skin—dirt, leaves, the texture of moss. She looks wild, untamed, like a creature born of the woods themselves.

I reach for her face, cupping her cheek with a hand that’s still trembling slightly from exertion and something deeper.

“It only feels like this because you never thought you would get both of us to agree. You never thought we would give it all up so we could both have a piece of you. Some things are worth more than the need for revenge or blood.”

The rain has slowed to a gentle patter, filtering through the canopy in dappled patterns that play across her skin. For a moment, none of us move, suspended as we are in this fragile new reality we’re creating.

“You two are insane.” She shakes her head. “Absolutely fucking insane.”

Arson grins, that familiar reckless smile I’d thought I’d never see again. “Never claimed otherwise.”

I feel my own lips curving in response. “You knew what you were getting into.”

“Did I?” she challenges, but there’s warmth beneath the words now. “Did any of us?”

I lean in closer, my breath mingling with hers. “No. But this is our life, messy, bloody, full of pain and love.”

Her eyes search mine, seeking truth and certainty. I let her see it all—the hunger, the need, the love that’s consumed me for longer than I care to admit.

Arson’s hand slides up her arm and over her shoulder to cup the back of her neck. A gesture of comfort, of claiming. “We want you,” he murmurs. “Both of us together.”

She shivers under his touch, under the intensity of our combined focus. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the heat emanating from her rain-soaked skin.

“Say it again,” I demand softly. “Who do you belong to?”

Her lips part, tongue darting out to wet them. I track the movement, transfixed. “You,” she breathes. “Both of you.”

Satisfaction rumbles in my chest, primal and deep. I lower my head, brushing my lips across her jawline, tasting salt and rainwater. She tilts her head back, offering me her throat in a gesture of surrender that makes my blood sing.

Arson’s mouth finds hers then, claiming her with a ferocity that steals my breath. I watch as she yields to him, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. A low growl escapes me, part warning, part approval. He breaks the kiss, breathing hard, eyes dark with desire.

“Share,” he rasps, the single word heavy with meaning.

I nod, leaning in to take his place. Her lips are swollen, tender from his onslaught, and I gentle my approach, savoring the soft glide of her mouth against mine. She sighs into the kiss, her body melting against me, trusting in a way she hasn’t allowed herself to be in years.

My hands roam her curves, relearning dips and hollows that have haunted my dreams. She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her as my thumb grazes the underside of her breast. Arson’s hands join mine, his touch rougher, more demanding.

He palms her hip, fingers digging into soft flesh as he pulls her back against his chest. She gasps at the contact, at the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against her.

“You belong to us,” Arson growls against her ear, his breath hot and soaked in hunger. “And we’re going to claim every inch of you.”

He nips her earlobe—not hard, but sharp enough to make her flinch. To make her gasp.

“Together.”

Her breath shudders. She’s trembling. From the cold. From the rain. From us.

“Together?” she whispers, like the word might ruin her.

I catch her chin between my fingers and tilt her face to mine. “Yes. Together,” I murmur, dark and sure. “You’re going to take us both. One in your tight little cunt. One in your ass. You’re going to feel us everywhere—stretching you wide, claiming what’s ours.”

Her lips part, but no words come out.

Arson strokes her throat with the backs of his fingers. “Look at her,” he breathes, voice wrapped in quiet reverence. “We’ve just gotten started, and she’s already trembling and soaked.”

I shift behind her, pressing my chest to her back. She stiffens—then shudders as my hands find her hips and drag her against me.

“How many times have you thought of this very moment?” I whisper. “Picturing us taking you at the same time, fucking you in unison.”

She sucks in a ragged breath, and I’m not sure if it’s needy or shame-filled.

“There’s no reason to hide what you want, not anymore,” Arson says gently, brushing her wet hair behind her ear. “We’re going to make all of your filthy fucking dreams come true, baby.”

“Because we already know how dirty you are,” I growl, dragging her soaked shirt over her head. Her bare skin gleams in the rain, flushed and sensitive, nipples tight.

Arson cups her face and kisses her—soft at first, teasing her lips open with his tongue. When she moans, he deepens it, claiming her mouth while I work my hands down her body.

My palms slide over her breasts, down her ribs, then between her legs, where her soaked panties stick to her like a second skin. I drag them down slowly, baring her inch by inch. She gasps as the rain hits her thighs, cool air on flushed flesh.

“Fuck, Lil,” I murmur. “You’re dripping like a faucet.”

“So perfect, and so fucking wet for us,” Arson whispers, dragging kisses along her jaw.

I slip two fingers knuckle deep inside her wet cunt. The sound her body makes as she clenches around my fingers is music to my ears. I’ve waited what seems like an eternity to be able to touch her, to have a moment like this with her.

“You were made for us.” I pant, curling my fingers inside her. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “God—yes.”

“Good girl,” Arson praises. “Look at you. Falling apart already.”

Her knees wobble as I pump my fingers slow and deep, dragging slick sounds from her core.

Arson’s mouth finds her breasts, kissing and sucking, tugging at her nipples with his teeth until she cries out.

His gaze meets mine over her head, eyes glittering with shared euphoria.

A look of perfect understanding passes between us.

This is how it was always meant to be. The three of us, together, bound by a love that defies definition.

“You’re going to be such a pretty mess by the time we sink inside you.”

She arches into my touch, silently begging for more.

I oblige, dipping my fingers into slick heat, then back behind to her tight little asshole.

She tenses but then relaxes under Arson’s ministrations.

We work in tandem, our movements synchronized by an unspoken understanding.

Push and pull, give and take, a dance as old as time itself.

She’s the instrument and we’re the musicians, coaxing forth a symphony of sighs and moans that echoes through the hushed forest.

I stretch her slowly, spreading, widening, as Arson does the same to her pussy.

Yes. I need this . I want to claim the last piece of innocence she has left.

She trembles as I work a second finger inside her ass, her body resisting for a moment before yielding to the stretch. Arson keeps her distracted with deep, drugging kisses, his tongue mimicking the thrusts of his fingers buried knuckle deep in her slick heat.

“Please,” she gasps, the word muffled against his mouth. “I need...”

I reach up, twist her thick blond hair in my fist, and pull her head back while I fuck her asshole, gently. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

“Say it,” I whisper, lips brushing her throat. “Tell us how bad you want it.”

“Please—need you both—need to be filled.”

“Where?” I press.

“My pussy,” she whimpers. “And… my ass.”

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Arson adds.

“I want your cocks,” she cries. “I want to be split open. Stretched. Used.”

Arson strokes her cheek with aching tenderness. “That’s our girl.”

I press a kiss to her lower back, whispering, “Now we give you exactly what you asked for.” A moment later, I withdraw my fingers slowly, relishing her whine of protest at the loss.

But it’s only a momentary reprieve. I position myself at her tight rear entrance, the head of my cock nudging against the slick pucker.

Arson mirrors my movements, the thick length of him pressing insistently at her dripping slit. We pause there, poised on the brink, savoring the anticipation.

“Ours,” Arson rasps, the word heavy with possession. “Forever.”

“Yours,” she agrees breathlessly. “Always.”