Page 115 of Reaper's Pack

As did the knowledge that they could all only hold back for so long. Eventually, the chord would stretch too taut—and snap.

The breakdown of their carefully orchestrated control was a guilty pleasure of mine. As soon as Gunnar started bucking his hips, driving himself into my mouth, Declan faltered too, his thrusts harder, faster, more poignant in the delicious little spots he hit. His hand around the back of my neck tightened, gripping for balance as he pounded into me. We devolved into chaos, into frenzied rutting, both hellhounds setting their own pace, seeking out pleasure that dragged mine right alongside it. Every muscle stiffened inside me, pleasure burning in my core, my eyes watering as Gunnar fucked my face and Declan ravaged my sex.

We came undone together, a symphony of ragged cries filling the room. Gunnar spilled himself down my throat just as Declan stuttered to a halt, buried deep inside me, his hips jerking through a climax that made him hiss my name. I was helpless, trapped between them, forced to ride out the pleasure in whatever position they had me in.

With anyone else, this would have been the end of it.

But as Declan eased out of me and collapsed on the bed, I looked to Knox. Wiping my lips, I left a weak-kneed Gunnar behind to crawl up his alpha’s legs. Knox helped a little, yanking the blankets aside to reveal tree trunk thighs and a rigid cock. We needed no foreplay, no tentative touches, no kisses to reacquaint ourselves. I scaled him greedily, licking his cock along the way, flicking my tongue over the tip, wiggling my hips and ass for the others.

Before I could grind down onto him, bury his huge length inside me, Knox snatched my hips and lifted me. Turned me around with his damaged hands so that my back collided roughly with his chest. I let out a shocked breath, legs spread, and my head tilted back onto his shoulder with a drawn-out moan as he steered himself inside me.

Unlike Declan, Knox took his time—a tease, just like I had been with Gunnar, burying his cock into me an inch at a time. Torturous, his pace. I tried to just slam my hips down, but he held firm, setting the tempo for us.

Reminding me who was alpha here.

And I let him.

God, how I let him.

I threaded one hand up and into his hair, using it as an anchor more than anything, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of Knox’s usual rough thrusts. Fire raged inside me, a great inferno that required more than the average woman to extinguish. More lovers. More soul mates. More cocks and hands and tongues—more. Was I insatiable, or was this just my path?

Perhaps I’d never know, and when Knox’s thumb flicked over my swollen clit, I certainly didn’t care. From this position, I could watch Gunnar and Declan watching me, hunger in their eyes and ecstasy in their smiles. Knox shuffled about for a better angle, something that allowed him to thrust up at his leisure, to take me however he saw fit. Once again, there was nothing I could do but hold on for the ride.

And kiss him. I flicked my tongue at his cheek when he started to rock, then dragged my parted lips over his scruff, the coarse black and newly grey-tinted scuff along his jaw. I arched back to nibble at his ear, but as his pace quickened, I just gave in to the unfolding bliss—to his fingers expertly playing my clit, his curt breaths against my temple, his arm locked around my waist.

My third climax came quickly this time, long before him, the pleasure hot and luxe, like liquid gold seeping through my veins. Knox showed no sign of stopping anytime soon, not even when I mewled at the overstimulation, my sounds stirring the others. Gunnar and Declan crept closer, Gunnar toying with my nipples and Declan taking over for Knox at the crest of my sex. Together, the trio milked—maybe even forced—another orgasm out of me before the alpha splintered, before he too snapped and lost himself inside of me.

One thing I had learned over the last week and a half was that group sex was messy. Normally I wasn’t one to skimp on a gratuitously steamy shower in the aftermath, maybe even a bath in the huge soaker tub attached to my private lavatory, but tonight, I didn’t want to get out of bed—didn’t want to leave this hellhound heap unless absolutely necessary. So, with a snap of my fingers, any evidence of our lovemaking vanished.

“Handy little spell, that one,” Gunnar muttered, stretching his long body out vertically, feet at the pillows, head at the end of the bed.

“It kind of takes the fun out of it,” I said as I climbed off Knox and snuggled into his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, stroking my hair, his eyes heavy and his heart pounding beneath my palm. Declan’s head quickly settled in the dip of my waist, his arms circling my legs, my butt to his chest.

“Well, I don’t want to leave this bed until morning,” he insisted softly, his preferences echoing my own.

“Maybe for a midnight snack,” Knox rumbled, to which Gunnar chuckled, reaching across his alpha to walk his fingers up my calf.

“I already know what I want.”

“A healthy slice of reaper?” Declan said, his voice tinged with exhaustion again. “Make mine a double.”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” I ordered, eyes closed, lips quirked. “You all need it.”

Sex took a lot out of anyone, supernatural or otherwise, but Knox and Declan were low on energy already—and any extra cardiovascular activities risked putting a strain on their healing injuries.

Not that either of them seemed to mind.

Still, they were out in a matter of minutes, dead to the world, both of them snoring softly. My eyes flickered open to find Gunnar watching all of us from the end of the bed, his head pillowed on his folded arms. When our gazes met, we exchanged little smiles, just for the two of us, and he eventually closed his eyes first with a long, contented sigh.

Lightning streaked across the bay window, the flash illuminating the steady stream of rain. Thunder answered its mate with a roaring crack-boom, the storm ongoing, stamping this Halloween night in misery.

Unless you were inside, surrounded by the hellhounds you loved, no longer alone, never to be alone again, listening to raindrops hammer the windows. Then…

Then, tonight was absolute perfection.

* * *

October crashed into November in a flurry of wild storms and sleet, but when it finally settled, the second last month of the year turned mild—as if to apologize for drowning the West Coast in misery for days on end.

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