I press a kiss against her temple, then tighten my hold on her throat, lifting her chin so she has no choice but to meet the gaze of my brothers watching us. “Let’s give them something to look at, yeah?” My words rumble low against her skin, and when I thrust again, slow and deliberate, she gasps—her body tightening once more, a sweet, helpless reaction that drives me to the edge. Her sounds fill the room, soft and wild, and I squeeze her throat just enough to remind her who she belongs to. The way she grips me in response feels like worship, and it takes everything I have not to fall apart right there with her.
I find my pace with her, hips snapping into a rhythm that makes her gasp and tremble against me. The sound alone nearly undoes me, but I want more—want to see just how far she’ll go forus. My lips find the curve of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin before murmuring against it, “Show Em how good that beautiful mouth of yours can be.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Her body moves with instinct and trust, letting me guide her forward until she’s on her hands again. Emerson steps closer, stripping down in silence, his jaw tight as he positions himself in front of her. For a heartbeat, everything stills—the room, our breathing—then she opens for him, lips parting to take him in as I thrust from behind. The sound that rips from her throat sends a jolt straight through me.
I tighten my grip on her hips, driving into her again and again, each movement pressing her forward onto Emerson’s hard dick. His hands tangle in her hair, not pulling, just holding her steady as I set the pace. Every time I slam forward, she takes him deeper, the rhythm between us raw and perfect.
Em groans above her, the sound sharp and hungry, while I fight to keep my breathing steady. Watching them together like this, knowing she’s ours—every trembling sound, every desperate breath—it’s chaos and devotion tangled together. I slide my hand up her spine, feeling the quiver in her muscles, the heat under her skin, and I know she’s close again. My voice comes out rough, almost a growl. “That’s it, baby. You’re perfect.”
A strangled groan rips out of Emerson’s throat, raw and rough, his voice breaking as he gasps, “Fuck, Berk… just like that. Do that thing with your tongue again. Fuuu—” The rest dissolves into a sound somewhere between a growl and a plea. His fingers tighten in her hair, knuckles white, as his body jerks forward. I watch his head drop back, throat working as he shudders and spills into her throat, a wrecked sound tearing from him that makes me lose control.
I ease my pace, slowing into shallow thrusts, giving them both a moment to breathe. Berk stays perfectly still between us, chest heaving, strands of wet hair sticking to her face. She swallows; eyes fluttering closed as Em’s grip softens.
When I finally draw a breath, I slide my hand down her spine again, tracing the slick line of her skin. “Good girl,” I murmur against her shoulder, my voice low, almost reverent. “You did so damn good.” She trembles beneath my touch, a soft whimper escaping her lips, and I know it’s not over—not by a long shot.
I move again, slow and deliberate, each thrust dragging a broken sound from her throat. My hands roam over her body, steadying her when she trembles. “Look at what you did to him, baby,” I murmur against her ear. “You reduced him to nothing.”
She turns her head just enough to glance at Emerson. He’s slumped back on the bed, chest rising and falling like he’s run a marathon, still trying to remember how to breathe. A small, breathless laugh slips from her lips, and I grin, giving her another slow, deep roll of my hips that makes her gasp.
“See?” I whisper. “Completely wrecked in under ten minutes.” Her head lolls forward, eyes half-lidded, but when I say, “Now look at Rowan,” she lifts her gaze. My twin is sitting at the edge of the mattress, jaw tight, golden eyes burning like the sun about to swallow us all. Even though he’s already had her, the hunger in his face says he’d give anything to have her again. “That’sthe look of a man who knows he can’t live without you,” I tell her, voice rough, “or this tight body.” My words make her shiver, the muscles around me tightening in response. I lean in, lips brushing against skin. “Should we take care of him too, baby?”
Her breath hitches, and she nods so fast it’s desperate. Her hand reaches toward Rowan, fingers trembling as she slides them across his bare chest. He exhales sharply, eyes closing for half a second before opening again, darker now, ferocious.
“You ready to take us both?” I ask, my tone dropping into a growl I barely recognize as my own.
The fluttering pulse of her body around me answers before she does. Then, with a moan that sounds like surrender, she breathes out, “Yes. Please.”
A dark, victorious smile tugs at my mouth, sharp and feral. My palm comes down hard against the curve of her ass, the sound snapping through the room like thunder. The impact makes her jolt forward, a breathless gasp spilling from her lips as the force drives her closer to Rowan. He’s already waiting, muscles coiled tight beneath his skin, eyes burning with hunger that mirrors my own.
She’s trembling between us, her body a perfect mix of exhaustion and need, her breath stuttering as she tries to find her balance. I watch as Rowan leans back, settling deeper into the center of the bed, his hands firm on her hips. He lifts her easily, guiding her off of my cock and down onto his own in one smooth move that makes both of them groan. Her head falls back, the sound that escapes her throat half-pleasure, half-shock.
Rowan’s palm cracks against her ass, the movement fluid and controlled, and his voice follows, rough but steady. “Ride me.”
It isn’t a suggestion. It’s a command.
And the way she responds—the way her hips move, slowly at first and then faster, her body surrendering to the rhythm—makes my breath catch. I stay close behind her, my hands trailing over her slick skin, feeling every tremor, every shift. Watching them like this, the two of them moving together in perfect, chaotic sync, it’s raw and grounding and devastating all at once.
Rowan takes control beneath her, his hands tightening on her hips as he lifts her, guiding her down again until the sound of their bodies meeting fills the room. The rhythm builds quickly, hard and unrelenting, her breath breaking into little gasps that sound like confessions. I stay close enough to feel the tremors rippling through her, my palms gliding up to cup her breasts, fingers tracing every twitch of muscle, every shallow breath. She moves like fire—wild, consuming, untamable—and I can’t look away.
Her head falls back against my shoulder, eyes fluttering open long enough to meet mine. There’s nothing left of fear or hesitation there, only that spark—the one that started this entire war. My hand slips around her throat, not to restrain but to anchor her, to remind her she’s not alone in this chaos. “That’s it, baby,” I growl, my voice thick with pride and hunger. “You’re perfect. You always were.”
Rowan’s pace stutters, a deep groan tearing from his chest as his head falls back. “Fuck,” he grits out, his voice cracking with the force of it. “She’s… incredible.” His eyes find mine for just a second, that unspoken understanding passing between us—this isn’t competition. It’s communion.
Berkley moans, the sound unraveling something tight inside me. Her hands grip Rowan’s chest as she rides him, her movements slowing, deepening, until it’s less about urgency and more about connection. Every sound, every breath, feels heavier than the air surrounding us.
I lower my lips to her neck, kissing her just below the ear, tasting salt and skin. “You’ve got us, baby,” I murmur. “All of us.”
She turns her face toward me, her lips brushing mine in a trembling kiss that feels like both an ending and a promise. Her body trembles as a wave of pleasure crashes through her, each shudder pulling a soft cry from her lips. Rowan catches her before she can fall, his arms wrapping around her and holding her firm against his chest while her breathing evens out in short, ragged bursts.
For a long beat, none of us move. The air hums with our breathing, heavy with heat and the steady thud of heartbeats, layered with all the tension still coiled between us. Then my hand slides slowly down the line of her spine, drawing a shiver from her, and I murmur, low and intent, “You ready for all of us now, baby?”
Chapter Eighteen
Berkley
Ronan’s voice curls against my skin, low and dark, the sound of it dragging another mini orgasm through my body. “You ready for all of us now, baby?” he murmurs, and the question sinks into me like heat. I’m still straddling Rowan, his body hot and solid beneath mine. Every slow, deliberate roll of his hips sends a ripple of sensation through me, pulling soft sounds from somewhere deep in my chest. His grip tightens on my hips as if claiming me all over again, guiding me through lazy thrusts that leave me trembling and breathless.
Rowan growls, “She likes the sound of that, brother. Her pussy tightened around me so hard; I almost came.”