Page 89 of Reaper's Pack

“Bring her here,” he ordered gruffly, but Declan was already on the move, steering me and my useless legs to the island. The hellhound all but threw me onto it, and I scrambled to arrange myself so that I wouldn’t trample Gunnar—even if the look in his eye suggested he’d be all for it. With his lean, gorgeous body stretched flat across the island’s counter, I was able to crawl over him, but he caught me by the hips before I’d made it very far, holding me over his length. It nudged at my slick entrance, teasing and torturous, as Gunnar cocked an eyebrow and murmured, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

Before I could answer, he thrust up, spearing me almost as effortlessly as he had made me come. I folded forward with a cry, body spreading to accommodate for something much bigger than his two fingers. My hands scrambled up his chest, searching for balance until our hips collided. Every muscle across his torso strained, like the task of holding still took an intense toll on him. The effort stretched all the way up to his mouth, set in a thin line, to his jaw clenched hard.

A part of me wondered if he was waiting for me to adjust, allowing me a few precious moments to breathe. Little did he know, I didn’t need it. Lower lip caught between my teeth, I rocked back, then rolled my hips forward, loving the way his short black eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly. The slight quirk of my mouth—got you, Gunnar—had his eyes narrowing, and I felt him bend his knees behind me, plant his feet, then slam up into me so firmly that my teeth chattered.

“Oh!”

Growls sounded throughout the room, all three alerted to my yelp and closing in like a pack of wolves circling their wounded prey. Knox’s heavy footfalls seemed to echo with every step, slowly making his way to the island as Gunnar pounded into me. My hands anchored themselves on his shoulders, and while I could have ridden him to my heart’s content, this was a ride that required you to just hold on for dear life—and that was what I did. Barely. The lingering aftershocks of that first climax sparked into something different, something sharp and punctuated, prickling through me with a vengeance.

Suddenly, Gunnar stilled. The hellhound caught me by the chin, his one hand finally abandoning its steely hold on my hip. It slid down to my throat, carefully guiding me forward so that he could gently capture my mouth in a kiss that made my toes curl and my heart skip a beat. In a delicious contrast to the way he’d ravished me, his mouth set a sweet, soothing pace, like a balm to a burn, and I moaned softly when he eased out of me.

A hand pressed to my lower back, hot and firm, and suddenly Declan replaced him, filling me with a slow, deliberate thrust that had my hips arching and my eyes rolling back in my head. He pumped in and out of me gradually, another balm to Gunnar’s roughness, before pulling out and nudging at a different hole entirely. I stilled, breath catching as I shot up and away from Gunnar’s gentle kiss.

“Easy, sweet,” Declan murmured, planting a few delicate kisses up the path of my spine, between my shoulders, at the base of my neck. “Relax… I won’t hurt you.”

While I wasn’t a virgin before the air strike stole my human life, I hadn’t done—that—before. But sandwiched between Gunnar and Declan, I trusted them. Of all three, Declan was the least likely to handle me harshly, and that was what I needed for my first time.

Slick with my arousal, he eased into me inch by inch, pausing whenever my breath caught or my nails bit into Gunnar’s shoulder. They both kissed me in the meantime, Gunnar along my neck, brushing over my parted lips, across my flushed cheeks, and Declan down my back, along my sides, nibbling at a few ticklish spots that made me exhale soft giggles.

It was a tight fit. A little painful, even as a reaper, but the pair handled me gently, stroking me, kissing me. Declan’s fingers eventually found my clit, massaging it so tenderly that I almost came again from that alone. When he had filled me to the hilt, his packmate took hold of my hips again, and my eyes rounded in shock when he eased into my sex.

Both of them—at the same time?

I let out another helpless moan, trapped between them and loving every second of it. Somehow, they made this work without a word shared between them, but I couldn’t help wondering what the trio felt along their pack bond. Was it as tangled as my brain, hazy with lust and desire and affection—the beginnings of love?

I desperately wanted to know, but every thought evaporated when Gunnar thrust up fully, claiming me once more. Declan rocked in and out of me with slow, deliberate movements, steady and unfaltering in comparison to Gunnar’s rough, hurried bucks of his hips. They stayed true to themselves, mindful of each other as they had their way with me, and once more I was left to play catch-up—to hang on for dear life and hope I survived.

At one point—a time that could have been seconds after they both filled me, minutes, hours—Declan wrapped my hair around his hand, then gently lifted my head up.

“Tell us how you feel, reaper,” Gunnar ordered, his smirk both knowing and mocking, confident and playful. Sometime in the last however long I’d been trapped between them, Knox had pulled up a stool next to the island, and he continued to watch the display in silence. He cocked his head to the side when I shakily met his black eyes, one strong arm stretched possessively across the end of the island, just over Gunnar.

A teasing twist of my nipple had me yelping, dragging me back to Gunnar’s question. How did I feel?

Overwhelmed.

Enamored.

Adored.

Desired.

My incoherent babbling response showed just how useless my brain was with both of them thrusting into me under Knox’s watchful eye. The trio grinned, Declan’s affectionate smile lingering in my peripherals, the grind of his hips harder now, slowly but surely catching up with Gunnar’s rough thrusts.

“What?” Gunnar tapped a finger under my chin. “I don’t think any of us quite got that…”

“We want to hear you, sweet,” Declan whispered into my ear, and I let out a feeble whimper. How did they expect me to form actual sentences right now? Seriously. This was just cruel.

Swallowing hard, I forced my mouth to move. “I feel… I feel…”

“Say it,” Knox rumbled. Trembling, I collapsed onto one elbow, my head to Gunnar’s chest, everything down south wholly occupied.

“I feel full,” I whined, embarrassment burning in my cheeks when a chorus of baritone chuckles arose around me. As if that declaration was all they needed, Gunnar and Declan pumped faster, harder, the three of us rocking back and forth on the island countertop—an island that I would never be able to look at the same again.

Not without remembering how it felt to be so—full.

It felt heavenly. Overwhelming, sure. But wonderful too. Like I was complete in the best way.

And it only got better when Declan reached between Gunnar and me to find my clit. He stroked the little bundle as best he could, the angle awkward but my hellhound determined. With Gunnar catching something delicious on my inner walls with every harsh thrust and Declan toying with me relentlessly, I came with a little half shout. Eyes clenched shut, my body tightened, tightened, tightened, the pleasure sizzling, until it all just broke apart, an avalanche of ecstasy rushing over me, demolishing everything in sight.

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