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Thirty-Nine
LILAH
I crawl up the stairs.
Shit, it hurts.
Like my belly’s spaghetti, and the fork keeps twisting.
I need my mates.
Even if they’re not mine, even if I can’t keep them, they’re the only ones who can help through this pain. I don’t care what it means for my life if they accept me.
I’ll do anything to stop the pain.
A wracking cramp sends me to my knees at the top of the steps. I cry out, curling into a ball.
When the uterus-sawing sensation bites down, and I start to think I should turn back and hide, I taste their scents. The chance at relief keeps me moving.
I have to keep pushing.
Have to get to them.
Their sounds echo from the nest. Grunts and soft curses that sound like music, all in their voices.
It takes me a while to claw all the way up to the third floor when I can’t walk and every hand, knee up is thumbtacks kneading my guts.
The door’s ajar.
I crawl onto the landing and peek through the crack.
Orion’s stripped, gold and pink skin exposed.
Naked, showing off the thick thighs I’ve seen in my wettest, wildest dreams, Atlas holds Orion back to chest, working over the silver mark of his mating bite from behind while Finn crouches between Orion’s knees, his head bobbing up and down.
Finn’s broad, bare back blocks my view, but between Orion’s half-lidded, blissed-out expression, his brain-melting moans, and the long, slurping sucks that drill straight into my pussy, I want to throw myself into the nest crotch-first like a slutty ring toss and pray I land on a cock.
Hunter and Jett crouch at Orion’s side, touching him, whispering sweet things, all of them holding him in a perfect circle of warmth and trust and pleasure.
A shirtless circle.
That’s where I want to be.
I was dripping before I made it here, but I watch long enough to spring a waterfall between my legs. Fuck, do I need them and my body’s bragging we can totally take all five at once.
Hashtag goals.
Orion’s spine arches as Finn growls encouragement. When Orion comes, abs and thighs shaking, he looks like an angel. He moans velvet and sin, and Atlas devours the sound with a growling kiss.
A strangled whimper slips from my lips because I can’t.
Three alpha faces whip toward me.
Finn’s too busy to stop.
“I…” I push the door a little wider.
I need to make some eloquent speech. Give a clear reason why they should help me. But my mind is mush, my vision haze, and my throat taken over by drunken, mind-numbing cider. Even if I’d planned a monologue—which, why would I, when offering my heat is the opposite of everything I ever said wanted—words don’t come out.
