Her lips part, her eyes wide and glassy, her body trembling between need and disbelief. She nods so fast it’s almost desperate, but that’s not enough. I want to hear it.
“I’m going to need words, baby.”
“Yes,” she breathes, the sound catching halfway out of her throat. Her voice shakes, the words tumbling over themselves like she can’t get them out fast enough. “Yes. Please. Claim me. All of you.”
The air shifts, thickening, grounding us all in that one moment. Three deep growls roll through the room—mine, Rowan’s, and Em’s—low and primal, the sound vibrating in our chests like predators on the hunt for our mate. It’s the sound of possession, of belonging, of something older than any of us can name.
After tonight, there’s no retreat. Who we were—fractured, distant, barely holding together—ended the instant her plea left her mouth. What rises in its place is new, unbreakable, forged in heat and choice, and not even the shadows of our past can tear it apart.
My fingers trace the line of her face, barely grazing her skin, careful and reverent, the way a man touches what he knows he couldlose. Warmth blooms beneath my fingertips—smooth, solid, undeniably real—and despite all we’ve endured, it still feels impossible that she’s here. Holding her feels sacred, like proof made flesh, and I linger as if staying close will anchor her to this moment—and to me.
Her lashes flutter, eyes searching mine, and I swear I can feel my pulse in my throat. Every scar, every sin, every ounce of darkness in me quiets when I look at her. There’s nothing else in the world—no revenge, no noise, no ghosts—just her. My center. My gravity.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I whisper, the words rough as gravel. My thumb traces the curve of her lower lip, and her breath catches on contact. “We love you, baby. All of us. Now let us show you, because words…” I pause, swallowing hard, “words aren’t enough to tell you what you mean to us.”
Her eyes shimmer, wide and wet, and then she nods. It’s frantic, desperate even, as if she’s afraid that hesitating for a second might break the spell. Her hands clutch at me, nails pressing faint crescents into my skin, and I can feel the tremor in her chest when she exhales.
That’s all I need. That one look, that one nod, and I know she understands—this isn’t just about wanting her. It’s about proving to her, and maybe to ourselves, that she’s the pulse holding us together, the heart that beats inside each of us.
“Good girl,” I murmur, my hand sliding up the curve of her neck until my fingers rest lightly against her throat. Her pulse thrums beneath my palm, fast and unsteady, and the sound of herquick breathing makes my chest tighten. “You going to do what I tell you?”
Her answer comes as a frantic nod, her eyes wide and trusting, her lips parted as if the air between us isn’t enough. The sight hits me like a blow—this mix of fire and submission, of power she gives freely and completely.
“Good,” I say again, voice low and steady, the word vibrating against her skin. “Now get on your hands and knees, baby. Let us see your pretty pink pussy glistening for us.”
She moves so fast it pulls a laugh out of me, soft and rough at once. “Someone’s eager,” I tease, watching the way she positions herself, the way she breathes through the anticipation. Her body is all trembling lines and soft curves, the picture of surrender and strength at the same time.
Rowan props himself up beside her, a cocky grin tugging at his mouth. “She’s probably soaked.” Pride flashes through his eyes as all of us look—evidence glistening between her thighs, marked by my twin’s release.
Behind us, I hear the rustle of fabric, the sound of Emerson pulling his shirt over his head. The motion catches Berk’s attention, and she shivers visibly, eyes darting between us. The air grows heavier, thick with heat and expectation, like a storm building in the distance.
I trail my hand down her spine, slow enough for her to feel every inch of the touch. Her skin ripples under my palm as I follow the slope of her back, tracing down until my hand settles over thecurve of her ass. My thumb strokes lazily against the wetness dripping from her lips, a silent promise of what’s coming next.
“Perfect,” I whisper, my tone turning softer even as desire roughens it. “You don’t even know what you do to us, Pix.”
Both Em and Rowan grunt their agreement, indistinct sounds that vibrate through the air like the start of a storm. The energy in the room changes—sharp and electric—thrumming under my skin. Neither of them says a word, but they don’t have to. We’ve always moved like this—instinct, unspoken understanding, a language built through years of fighting beside each other.
Emerson moves to her side, brushing the hair off her shoulder, his fingers lingering there, tracing the line of her neck. Rowan stays close to her on the other side, his expression quiet but intent, eyes dark with focus that could burn through steel.
Berk breathes in deep, her back arching slightly as if her body knows where they are before she looks. Her hands grip the sheets, knuckles white, but her face—god, her face—is all calm surrender, trust threaded through every line of her.
I stay behind her, one hand resting on her hip, feeling the tremors ripple through her muscles as they position themselves. My pulse matches hers, fast and heavy, every heartbeat a countdown to when words stop mattering and touch takes over.
We move together, silent but perfectly in sync, the three of us closing in around her like the walls of a heartbeat, steady and inevitable.
My hand meets her ass with a sharp, echoing slap that pulls a startled gasp from her lips. The sound sends a shock through me,low and primal, something raw and old waking beneath my skin—the instinct of a beast recognizing what’s his. She freezes for half a heartbeat, then exhales a quiet moan that trembles through the air, melting into the space between us. I drag my hand slowly over the spot, tracing the warmth that blooms there, letting her feel my touch settle after the spark.
A low laugh slips from me, rough and edged with heat. “You like that?” I murmur against her ear. Her breath stutters, and the soft sound she makes answers me long before her words.
Her back arches in invitation, drawing me closer, and I don’t hesitate. I push my bottoms down and press in, closing the gap until there’s no space left between us. The heat where we meet is overwhelming and perfect, and the world beyond these walls fades away, reduced to her breathing and the hard, shared rhythm pounding through us all.
I slide an arm around her waist, drawing her upright until her back rests against my chest, holding her by the neck for Emerson and Rowan to take their fill with dark, hungry eyes. I shift my stance without thinking, grounding my weight before the faint pull in my side can register—nothing that’ll stop me, just a reminder to stay steady.
My lips hover near her ear as I whisper, low enough that only she can hear. “Tell me, baby… you ready for this?” My other hand trails down the smooth curve of her stomach, slow and deliberate. I can feel my brothers’ eyes locked on the movement, tension thrumming in the air as my fingers find their way between her thighs. The sound that leaves me is a low growl, rough and hungry. “That my twin’s work?” I murmur in her ear. “He get you ready for us, baby?”
She melts in my hands, soft and pliant, her body arching as she moans a shaky “yes.” The sound of her unravels me, and I can’t wait any longer. I steady her against my chest, and without bending her forward, I guide my cock into her wetness in one smooth, deep thrust. The breath leaves both our lungs at once. She cries out, body trembling as she comes instantly, her muscles clenching so tightly it rips a guttural sound from my throat.
“Fuck, baby,” I growl, fighting to keep control as I hold her against me. “You’re so damn beautiful when you come on my cock.” Her head falls back onto my shoulder, lips parted, eyes hazy with pleasure. I can feel every flutter around me, every heartbeat that matches mine.