“As you command, angel.” Fowler spreads my legs just a little and then slides on home. He’s not as thick as the other two, but he’s longer, and I feel every achingly beautiful inch that fills me. Fowler picks an animalistic speed—a rutting speed—that sends echoes of our movement throughout their home. A ragged moan escapes me as Fowler’s cock slams against that special, most-sensitive part within. He reaches around me, pressing his abdomen against my back, and plays with my clit as he drives into me.
I cry out and cum again, the aftershocks only just subsiding when his knot pops inside and swells, locking us together.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—” Fowler cums, too. His seed spills inside me and he collapses against my back. “Grace. You’re…”
“Everything,” Zev finishes for him.
Fowler’s face is buried in my hair. “Yes. Everything.”
The three of them stay close until Fowler’s knot deflates. When Fowler pulls out, the three of them work in efficient tandem to clean me and Zev’s sheets up. I want to thank them, but my eyes are already closing. The pain is gone, replaced with a sleepy, glowing warmth.
I waketo a soft throb in my skull and a sticky, contented heaviness between my legs. For a moment I have no idea where I am, then the mingle of my alphas’ scents hit and my body relaxes.
I turn my head to the left. Zev is there, back pressed to the wall, scrolling on his phone with one massive hand, the other holding a water bottle that looks tiny in his grip. He glances at me with soft eyes. “Hey, how you feeling?”
I try to answer, but my voice cracks in two. I croak, “Like someone poured me out of a blender.”
He laughs. “Here.” He twists off the cap and props me up. He tips it slow, his bicep hard and steady beneath me. I drink.
Fowler is on my other side, curled half-on, half-off the bed, red hair sticking up in tufts. He’s snoring, but there’s a satisfied smile on his mouth. I glance down and realize Connor is between my legs, head pillowed on my thigh, breathing slow and even.
The morning sun is gone. Afternoon light is filtered through Zev’s faded blue curtains. I feel time slipping; I’m pretty sure I’ve been out for hours. Zev dabs at the sweat on my brow with a dry wash cloth. My heat’s fever is still here, but less all-consuming for the moment. Slick pours thick between my thighs.
A twist of anxiety blossoms in my chest, sudden and wild. “Shit, what time is it? I supposed to be at rehearsal.”
Connor stirs, blinking up at me with glassy blue eyes. He makes a questioning noise. “You’re off. Remember?” His voice is slurred, the words lazy and warm. “Director Hannah says take as much time as you need.”
I try to muster a protest, but Zev just shakes his head. “You’re not moving until you’re out of heat, Grace. No exceptions.”
“But the show?—”
Fowler interrupts, voice muffled in the pillow. “Your alternate is out sick, but Charlotte’s skating in your place. The role’s in good hands.”
Molten relief pours through me. I’ve never missed a day of rehearsal. My alternate also being out is bad luck. But Charlotte will nail this, I know it.
My fever flares. I moan as my body turns suddenly over-sensitive to every touch between us again.
Connor slides up the bed. “Are you okay?”
I nod, but it’s a lie. My fingers find the hem of the sheet and twist it. My hips shift without my permission.
“I need—” I try, but my voice falls apart.
Connor cups my face, thumb brushing along my jaw. “You need what?”
Fowler’s awake now, smiling down at me despite the crease in his brow. “Do you want us again, angel?”
A fierce blush heats my cheeks. I’m so wet I can feel it pooling beneath me, the ache in my core starting to spiral out of control.
“Please,” I whisper.
Connor kisses me with a hunger that matches my own. His tongue pushes between my lips, and he slides a hand into my hair. I moan into his mouth, and the sound is echoed by Fowler, who’s already running his fingers up my thigh, parting me like I’m made of petals.
Zev leans in from the other side, big hand splayed over my stomach, grounding me as Connor and Fowler explore every inch. I’m dizzy with need.
They don’t keep me waiting.
Connor’s mouth is hot against mine, then trailing down my neck. Fowler slides between my legs, tongue broad and filthy. I buck into him, helpless. Zev’s hand never leaves my stomach,but his other finds my breast, kneading and pinching until my skin sings.
