I lean back against him, letting my head fall onto his shoulder. “Then do it.”
But then another set of hands slides around my waist from the front. Fallon. He’s shirtless, the tattoos on his arms rippling as he moves.
He pulls me away from Eli, spinning me around so I’m pressed against his hard, muscular frame.
“Feast on her?” Fallon laughs. “We’re going to devour her, Eli.”
He claims my mouth, his kiss aggressive and demanding, tasting of smoke and lust. I moan into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair.
“Gentle,” Knox’s voice cuts through the haze.
I turn my head. Knox is leaning against the counter, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his pale, sculpted chest.
He’s watching us with an intensity that makes my knees weak. He’s not touching me, but his gaze is a physical weight.
“Come here,” he commands.
I pull away from Fallon, drawn to Knox like a magnet. I walk over to him, my knees barely holding me up.
When I reach him, he grabs my hips, lifting me onto the stainless steel counter. The metal is cold against my thighs, a shocking contrast to the heat of his hands.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I do. His gray eyes are burning.
“You’ve been teasing us, Amber,” he says, his voice rough. “Flaunting yourself in this kitchen. It’s time to pay the price.”
“Make me,” I whisper.
He kisses me then, and it’s like being struck by lightning. Precise, controlled, and absolutely overwhelming. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me, owning me.
I feel hands on my ankles. Eli. He’s kneeling between my legs, pushing the silk of my dress up. He presses a kiss to the inside of my knee, then higher, his tongue tracing a path up my thigh.
And Fallon is behind me again, his chest against my back, his hands covering my breasts, pinching my nipples through the thin silk. The three of them surround me, a wall of muscle and desire.
There’s no jealousy between them. Only a shared purpose. To pleasure me. To consume me.
Eli’s mouth finds my center, and I cry out, bucking against Knox’s grip. Knox holds me steady, deepening the kiss, swallowing my sounds of pleasure. Fallon bites down on my shoulder, marking me.
It’s a sensory overload. The smell of Knox’s cologne, the taste of Eli, the roughness of Fallon’s beard. I’m floating, lost in a sea of sensation. They pass me between them like a precious object, a toy they all share.
Knox lifts me off the counter, turning me around. He presses my hands against the cool surface of the fridge. “Hold on,” he growls.
He enters me from behind in one smooth thrust, and I scream, my head falling back against Fallon’s shoulder. Fallon captures my scream with a kiss, his hand sliding down to where Knox and I are joined, adding to the friction.
Eli watches, his hand stroking himself, his eyes dark with lust. “Let me taste,” he begs.
Knox pulls out, and Eli is there, lifting me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He sinks into me, his face buried in my neck, his movements tender and rhythmic. I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“So beautiful,” he whispers.
Then Fallon pulls me away, bending me over the prep table. He’s bigger, thicker, stretching me in a way that makes me see stars. He grips my hips, pistoning into me with a force that rattles the pots on the shelves.
I can’t tell where I end and they begin. The dream shifts and blurs—Knox’s mouth on my breast, Eli’s fingers in my hair, Fallon’s hand on my throat. They are everywhere. They are everything.
The pleasure builds, a tidal wave rising higher and higher. I’m surrounded by their scents, their heat, their Alpha strength. I’m safe, but I’m also completely at their mercy.
“Come for us, Amber,” they say in unison, a chorus of deep, rumbling voices.
