Harper's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the parking lot, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel, the tendons standing out in his forearms. "You two better save some for me."
"No promises," Silas rasped, and then his scarred fingers were cupping my jaw, turning my face toward his, tilting my chin up, and he was kissing me.
It was nothing like I expected from the quiet, haunted Alpha. The kiss was hungry, desperate, like he'd been starving for this and couldn't hold back another second. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me, and I whimpered—the sound swallowed by his lips. He tasted like coffee and wildness, untamed and raw, and I melted into him.
In the rearview mirror, I saw Harper's jaw clench hard enough to crack teeth. The truck accelerated, the engine growling. Remy's fingers found the hem of my shirt, sliding beneath to find bare skin. His palms were warm, slightly rough with calluses, and they traced up my ribs with a reverence that made my chest tight with emotion. Each touch left trails of fire in its wake.
"So soft," he murmured at my shoulder where he'd pushed my collar aside, his lips brushing the words into my skin. "So fucking perfect, chère."
The truck took a curve faster than it should have, tires squealing slightly. Harper's focus kept flicking to the mirror, dark and hungry, watching everything he couldn't touch. A muscle jumped in his jaw. His breathing had gone ragged.
Silas pulled back from my mouth just long enough for us both to breathe, his pale eyes searching mine, pupils blown so wide they'd nearly swallowed the ice-blue. "Okay?"
"More than okay," I managed, my voice wrecked, already reaching for him again, fisting my fingers in the front of his shirt. "Don't stop."
Something flickered in his expression—wonder, maybe, or relief that he was allowed to have this—and then his mouth was on my neck, working the other side while Remy claimed the first. Two mouths, two sets of teeth, two Alphas marking me from both sides. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure sparking from every point of contact, my head falling back against the seat.
"Jesus Christ," Harper muttered from the front seat, his voice strangled, and the truck sped up again, the speedometer climbing. "We're fifteen minutes from the cabin. Can you?—"
"Non," Remy breathed into my skin, his accent thick as honey now, all pretense of control abandoned, the charming musician gone entirely. His fingers found the clasp of my bra through my shirt, flicking it open with practiced ease. "I cannot."
The release of pressure made me gasp, my nipples tightening in the suddenly loose fabric, and then his hands were sliding around to cup me, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks through the thin cotton of my shirt. I arched into his touch with a moan that fogged the windows.
"Fuck." Harper's voice was strained, wrecked, barely recognizable. Through the gap between the seats, I could see the hard line of him straining against his jeans, the way his thighs had tensed. "That's—you're killing me. "
"Eyes on the road," Silas said, and there was a dark amusement threading through his rough voice, a teasing edge I'd never heard before. His scarred fingers had found my thigh, sliding higher, tracing the inseam of my jeans with maddening slowness. "Wouldn't want to crash."
The truck swerved slightly, then corrected. Harper let out a string of curses that would've made a sailor blush, creative and filthy and desperate. I was drowning in sensation—Remy's mouth hot on my neck, his clever fingers working my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers until I was squirming on the leather seat, my thighs pressing together, seeking friction. Silas's touch crept higher, so close to where I needed him, his pale eyes watching my face with an intensity that made me burn from the inside out.
"Please," I heard myself beg, the word torn from somewhere deep. "Silas, please?—"
His palm pressed between my thighs through my jeans, and I nearly came off the seat, my hips bucking up into the pressure. It was perfect, exactly what I needed, the heel of his hand grinding against my center, and I ground down with a sob that made Remy groan at my neck.
"That's it, chère," Remy breathed at my ear, his accent so thick it was almost another language, pinching my nipple at the same moment Silas rubbed harder in a coordinated assault that made my vision white out at the edges. "Let us hear you. Let us hear how good we make you feel."
The sound that came out of me was pure omega—a keening, desperate thing that filled the cab of the truck, that made the windows fog even more. My scent had gone heady and thick, apple cider sharpened into musk and honey and want. The smell of an omega being thoroughly, devastatingly pleasured. Harper made a sound like he was dying, like he was being tortured in the sweetest possible way. The speedometer crept higher still.
"She's so responsive," Silas said, almost to himself, wonder coloring the rough edges of his voice. His scarred fingers moved in slow circles that made my hips roll helplessly, chasing the friction, chasing the release that was building like a wave. His pale eyes were blown black, his breathing as ragged as mine. "So gorgeous like this."
"You should see her face," Remy agreed, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his breath hot and damp. "She's close. I can feel it. Can feel her trembling."
"Don't you dare make her come without me," Harper growled from the front seat, the command of the Head Alpha ringing through every syllable. "I mean it."
Silas's touch stilled, and I actually whined—a high, frustrated sound that made both of them laugh, low and dark and pleased with themselves.
"You heard the Head Alpha," Silas murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple, tender despite the teasing, his thumb stroking gentle circles on my thigh now instead of that maddening pressure. "We have to wait."
"I hate you," I panted, my whole body strung tight as a wire, so close to the edge I could taste it. "I hate all of you."
"No you don't." Remy's smile was wicked at my neck, his teeth scraping gently over my fluttering pulse. I didn't have time to make a comment back as Silas's touch started moving again, lighter now, teasing, keeping me hovering at the edge without letting me fall.
"How much longer?" I gasped, my fingers digging into the leather seat, barely able to form the words through the haze of need.
Harper checked the road, checked the mirror, checked the road again, his knuckles white on the wheel. "Five minutes. Maybe four if I—" The truck accelerated again, pressing me back into the seat. "Four."
Those four minutes were the longest of my life.
Remy and Silas took turns kissing me, their mouths trading off while their hands never stopped moving—touching, teasing, worshipping. They kept me hovering right at the edge, desperate and aching, my whole body strung tight as a bow. Every time I got close, they'd ease off, laughing softly at my frustrated sounds, promising it would be worth it.
