Arthur swears. His rhythm stutters. He buries himself deep and comes with a groan that reverberates through my whole body, his knot swelling and locking us together. The sensation drags me over the edge with him. My orgasm tears through me so hard my vision whites out. I cry out around Mason's cock, my whole body clenching, shaking. The vibration of my moan and the way my throat tightens around him must be too much, because Mason's hand fists in my hair, his hips jerking as he comes with a groan. I swallow everything, still trembling, my hand still busy around Knox's dick.
If anything my grip even tightens, my rhythm going relentless, and Knox's breath fractures. His knot swells hard against my palm, he comes with a rough exhale, his release spilling warm over my fingers.
For a long time, nobody moves. Arthur's knot holds us together, his forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, breath slowing against my skin. Mason's hand is still in my hair. Knox's thumb traces circles on my wrist.
When Arthur's knot finally releases and he pulls out gently, he presses a kiss to the base of my spine. Then we all collapse like someone cut our strings.
I'm lying in a tangle of them. I don't know whose leg is over mine. Someone's heartbeat is thudding against my shoulder blade and someone else's breath is warm on my collarbone. My body feels like it's been taken apart and put back together differently.
Except better, definitely.
***
Everything aches yet everything feelsgood.
I lie there for a while, watching Knox's lashes twitch, feeling Mason's breathing lift me in slow, steady waves, and listening to Arthur's quiet snore.
Eventually, though, my muscles are screaming for hot water and I smell like three different alphas and sex. I am absolutely not having whatever conversation comes next like this.
Getting free is its own Olympic event. Mason lets out a low growl when I shift and drags me back against him. I have to peel his fingers off me one by one until he finally rolls into my warm spot and buries his face in the pillow.
Knox lets out a low, sleep-heavy rumble, his massive arm automatically flexing to keep my hips pinned to the mattress before his grip finally goes slack with a sigh.
I try to slide my ankle free from Arthur, and he makes this tiny, wounded noise, pulling my leg tighter against his chest. I quickly swap in a handful of comforter, and he takes it without waking.
That shouldn't make my chest ache as much as it does.
I grab Arthur's flannel off the chair, pull it on, and steal a pair of Mason's sweatpants from the dresser, rolling the waist four times (they still drag on the floor).
I pick up my phone off the nightstand on my way out to the shower, and the screen lights up with a notification:
Whitmore Capital:RE: Wildflower & Vine — URGENT: Revised Acquisition Terms
I read the email, and the floor drops out from under me.
31
Knox
“They moved the deadline.”
I blink, my brain still foggy from sleep and the lingering high of what just happened in her bedroom. Beth is sitting on the living room couch, swimming in Arthur's oversized flannel, her knees pulled tight to her chest, shaking.
“What?” I drag a hand down my face, trying to catch up. “Beth, what's going on?”
“Seventy-two hours.” Her voice is scraped out. Flat.
She turns her phone toward me. I take it.
The email is from Whitmore Capital. Cold, clipped language.Due to recent inquiries from third-party interests... timeline materially accelerated... 72 hours to accept or decline.My blood goes completely still.
Third-party interests.Is that... because of the favor I asked my cousin? The pitch I sent to get Wildflower & Vine in front of Dorian Beaumont?
Fuck, did I do this?
“Knox.” Beth is staring at me. “I can't breathe.”
I set the phone face-down on the carpet.
