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Jin knows.
Jin knows everything.
When he catches me peeking, he pries my claw-grip from Dutch’s shoulder and kisses my knuckles. I shouldn’t be able to feel such a soft brush of lips with so many alphas begging for my attention, but I’d feel Jin call me from the seabed.
“Come,” he murmurs.
It’s not a command.
It’s permission to let go.
All the way.
Sprung loose, I climb into his waiting arms.
The guys yield me to their packleader. Dutch presses my back. Bish and Reese support my sides—my own personal island of alpha.
When I stop fighting Jin’s pull and climb aboard, my body drops into the cradle that feels like it was made for me. Sinking deeper in the water, sinking deeper into Jin, I loop his neck, drape myself on his chest, and slide down his waist, stroked by his encouraging purr.
Down, down, down, tight, tight, tight, until I’m sealed so hard to his cock, our friction strains the fabric that’s the only thing between us and a full-on undersea fuck.
“Come to me.” Jin lowers his chin, not touching, not taking, just hovering close enough to feed me his breath.
I rise to meet the storm.
Jin’s kisses always crackle.
But when I take the initiative, his lips blow my freaking power grid.
Electric.
Almost numbing.
I feel his pulse in his tongue and his primally satisfied purr. Letting him take me as deep as I dare, I moan into his throat.
“It’s me.” Jin hums against my lips. “Remember?”
“I know.”
“Then what do you want?”
My heart crashes wilder than the surf.
Stroked and held from every angle except the ones that hurt, I focus on the sweet tightness between my thighs.
I want Jin.
I want them.
I want everything—as much as I can take before I fall apart.
Focusing on sensations, I grind Jin’s hardness. It’s not dry-humping when we’re soaked in ocean water.
The wet fabric between us stretches, but not enough. I have to work for the friction I need. Dutch “helps” from behind, stroking his cock against my ass and pumping me against Jin.
Racing the clock, I ride Jin until I hit the spot.
His zipper.
