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Atlas’s chuckle vibrates my jugular. “Did you just…?“
“You sucked me.”
He nuzzles my super-ticklish throat. “I’ll suck you again. Somewhere else?”
“Mmm.” I scratch his head, and the big, bad alpha leans into my touch like a wolf pup. He’s still Atlas—checks our door locks fifty times and has old married couple fights with Hunter—but now he’s my Atlas. The one who funnels his drill sergeant energy into precision-cutting ravioli and memorizing books on the omega orgasm.
His ex-military ass looks fantastic in an apron.
Try to complain about that.
“Should we find our boyfriend?” He hauls me from the mattress, and I moan when my pussy kisses his bare abs, only one thin piece of fabric separating me from his taut skin.
“Find him fast.” I’m sweating fucking bullets.
Aching.
Need them both.
One palm gripping my ass, the other cupping my neck, Atlas carries me from the nest.
Orion’s cider would be easy to follow even if I couldn’t feel his sunshine in my soul. Tracking him, I start to sniff.
Then choke.
Atlas misses a step.
Because the lush apple cider we know and love?
It’s sharp as my favorite shiv and so desperately ragged with need that my stomach muscles scissor.
Atlas bulls into Orion’s bedroom.
We find him curled in the closet, hugging his knees.
The second he spots us, he pounces, landing half in Atlas’s arms and half in mine. I squeeze him tight, and his back’s so sweaty hot, I think my nipples start to smoke. “Orion. Your heat.”
“Just a spike,” he murmurs. “Hit me so fast.”
Atlas and I share a look over Orion’s curls, and his eyes are just as fiery as Orion’s skin.
They boil with possession.
Nervous excitement bubbles in my belly.
Been waiting for this.
“Let us ease you.” I kiss Orion’s shoulder.
Atlas carries us to Orion’s bed and I’m totally focused on helping Orion, but I can’t help wiggling in his sheets. The guys spend most nights with me, but Atlas and Orion go on cute dates when I’m busy between Finn and Hunter, so the bed’s a perfect mix of their mingled scents. Makes me want to go all burrowy and add my perfume to the tangle.
“Kneel,” Atlas orders with just enough bark to curl my toes.
But it’s not me he’s commanding.
Orion fucking kneels.
His pink lips part, eyes glassy with need.
