Page 90 of Reaper's Pack

Both Gunnar and Declan groaned as my core clenched and my sex rippled with another stunning orgasm, and I vaguely felt teeth on my shoulder in the fuzzy aftermath. Declan’s hand clamped over Knox’s mark on the opposite side, his pace quickening, his grunts more like growls as he pumped into me. As if accommodating, allowing his packmate to take the spotlight, Gunnar had stopped moving completely, his hands on my hips—practically lifting them up for me because every muscle and bone in my body had dissolved into jelly.

Teeth that had just grazed and nipped before now sunk into my flesh when Declan pounded once, twice, three times, then stilled against me, his body shuddering through a climax of his own, his bite searing. Weakly, I lifted a hand to twine into his hair, relishing his teeth on my skin.

I should have been satisfied: two climaxes and another mark on my body? A mark that would likely be permanent, just like Knox’s… That should have been enough. But as Declan licked across the tender wound on my shoulder, slowly inching out of me, I wanted more. I craved Gunnar’s release, his face twisted in an almost painful bliss. I’d seen it before. I’d fought the memories of both him and Declan, the snapshots of our most intimate moments popping up at inappropriate times.

As of this morning, Knox had been added to my memory bank, although his was more of a physical recollection, given he’d been behind me at the time. But I wanted to see it. Slowly, my gaze drifted over to the alpha, to his obsidian stare and his scarred face, to a mouth that had tainted this reaper’s flesh when nothing else had ever left so much as a scratch.

“Insatiable, this one,” Gunnar rasped, and heat flared through me from top to bottom when I realized he’d caught me staring at his alpha—ogling him, fantasizing, reminiscing. His sly mouth quirked, and before I knew it, he had us both up and seated. Declan’s arm wrapped around my waist, and he tenderly hoisted me off the counter, the pack once again communicating without a word. Gunnar hopped off shortly after, taking over from a flushed Declan. Over my shoulder, I caught my sweetest hellhound leaning against the island, his brow sweaty, his cheeks pink, his full mouth lifted in the most beautiful smile.

But I was forced to look away when Gunnar steered me toward Knox—when he took my hands and placed them on his alpha’s waistline. Knox’s cock strained against his trousers, and weak from two climaxes, my uncoordinated fingers struggled to get the button open, to wrench the zipper down. I managed—somehow. With an elbow propped on the island, the alpha simply watched me peel his trousers aside, then free his cock with trembling hands.

His cheek twitched when I circled a finger around the engorged silky head, and the huge hand that had once sat loose on the counter tightened to a fist when I risked stroking his thick shaft.

“Come on, Hazel, we can do better than that,” Gunnar murmured in my ear. He dragged his tongue down the column of my throat, over Declan’s mark at its base, before he cuffed me on the back of the neck and guided me down.

Instinct took over again; I parted my lips, taking Knox into my mouth an inch at a time, not stopping until he nudged the back of my throat. He snarled softly when I eased off and swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock. The alpha drew in a ragged breath, nostrils flaring as I bobbed up and down slowly, and the hand that had sat uselessly on his lap all this time found its way to my hair.

Tonight, he was shockingly gentle with me, all the brutality and pent-up frustration from the forest gone in the way he played with my hair. In fact, I swore I felt him twirling it around one finger, all the while watching me, never once pulling his gaze elsewhere.

Not that I could look away either. As soon as our eyes found each other, I was done for, not able to think—just move.

Gunnar’s presence disappeared behind me, the absence of his hellhound heat, his cock nudging insistently against my thigh, leaving me rather exposed. Bent over in front of an alpha, a chill skittered down my spine, and like the ripple in a pond, it flared out, little goose bumps rising across my arms and legs, up my neck.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Gunnar hopping up on the kitchen island, his knee brushing my shoulder, his shaft sticking straight up at the helm of his thighs. Having two of them watch me taking Knox’s cock in my mouth was almost too much, and my sex ached with need once more, desperate to be full again.

As if sensing my wants, perhaps even seeing them in my eyes, Knox smoothed his hand from my hair to the underside of my chin. Gently, he lifted me from his shaft, and we moved in tandem, like dance partners expertly flowing from one step to the next. With his support, I climbed into his lap, my hands going for his shirt before we floated effortlessly to the next bit of footwork in this dance. Lower lip caught between my teeth, I dragged his thin jumper over his head, needing to really feel him, the coarse hair on his chest, the steel beneath his flesh.

Knox let me manhandle him—let me throw his shirt aside, brush his thick black hair over his shoulders. He let me cuddle up to him, cup his strong jaw, kiss him so deeply I swore I tasted his soul.

Only he didn’t have a soul.

None of us did.

But in that kiss, there was something more inside him, something that bonded us together—and I craved it with every fiber of my being. I kissed him hungrily, greedily, not even breaking when he steered my hips over him, aligned our bodies so that when he slammed me down, I took him all in one swift stroke.

I felt Gunnar and Declan’s interest in our union, in the way they shuffled about behind us, the low growls, the rush of heat turning this kitchen into a goddamn sauna. Between them, I had been putty in their very skilled hands, something to be molded and taken, my pleasure dispensed at their discretion. Yet with Knox, I had some control. So much larger than me, he could have easily thrown me about, pinned me here and there, set the pace that best suited us.

But he just sat there, taking my desperate kiss in stride, one huge hand on my lower back as I swirled my hips. Pleasure tingled in my core, and my belly looped deliciously when my clit brushed up against him with every rock of my body.

“Hazel…” I’d never heard desperation drip from Gunnar’s lips until now. Only that could tear me away from Knox’s firm mouth, and I found his beta studying me, stroking himself, waiting. Licking my lips, I leaned over to taste the head of his cock, taking just that in my mouth and smiling at the sound of his pleasurable hiss. Knox took over the motion of our bodies, both hands rocking my hips, grinding me down against him so that the exquisite build I’d felt between my thighs remained unbroken.

Where Knox had been gentle and indulgent when I used my mouth on him, Gunnar was as rough as he had been before, one hand in my hair, holding me as he pumped into my mouth. My gaze darted up to his royal blues, and I found every inch of him rigid, mouth in a thin line, jaw gritted. I wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, my lips colliding with my fist as I took him faster, deeper, his hips bucking up hard to take advantage.

He spilled himself into my mouth minutes later, a hot burst of salty essence dribbling down the back of my throat. I coughed and arched against the sudden onslaught, but he snatched up my free hand before I could push at his torso, in need of a breath, his shaft buried deep. Pain cut through the pleasure building in my core; his teeth had found my wrist, and as he shuddered and jerked into my mouth, he marked me like Declan and Knox with a bite.

“Gunnar,” Knox growled, and the hellhound finally eased up on my hair. I sat up with a shaky gasp, eyes watery, and found my wrist still clamped firmly in Gunnar’s mouth. Gold blood dribbled down my forearm, and when his eyes fluttered open, they locked on me, so vulnerable, so open. I’d thought I had tasted Knox’s soul in our kiss before, but here, I swore I saw Gunnar’s in his eyes. Beautiful.

And Declan’s soul…

I felt Declan’s soul in his touch.

All these souls that didn’t exist—depth. That was a better word for it. I experienced the depth of these three hellhounds in a way I never had before, but I desperately wanted to again.

When Gunnar finally released me, he kissed the wound on my wrist, licked at the ichor staining my pale flesh. Once, his smirk had made me bristle; tonight, I found it endearing. I grinned back, then slowly retracted my arm, cradling it to my chest, eager to examine each of the three marks sometime later in the mirror. Would they be as individual as the hellhounds who gave them to me?

God, I hoped so.

Soundlessly, Gunnar slid off the island, and as soon as the space cleared, Knox shot up, carrying me with him. All this time, he had seemed like a passive participant, keen to just play the voyeur while his pack had their way with me. But as he pinned me up against the smooth edge of the island, I realized that wasn’t the case at all.

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