Page 174 of Bound By Song

Time is a joke because I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Like a dam has burst and suddenly, everything I’ve been holding back, denying myself for decades, is a tsunami I can’t control.

And my little minx, my perfect, filthy, made-for-me omega, can’t get enough. She’s a fucking miracle.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been tangled up like this,this round, limbs and slick and knot. But I do know one thing:

I’ve never seen her like this.

She’s radiant. Wild. Glowing with heat and scent and need. Her cheeks are flushed, her skin dewy with sweat, and she smells like sex and satisfaction and still –still– hunger.

I’m lying back against the nest cushions, her soft weight draped over me, knot almost down, when the door opens.

Blaise enters first, shirtless, grinning wickedly. Xar follows, carrying a tray – god knows from where because I brought what I thought was the only one in with me yesterday – with a bottle of electrolytes and what looks suspiciously like a chocolate croissant. The two of them look as wrecked as I feel.

Evie doesn’t even flinch. Her head lifts, eyes glassy with heat, pupils blown wide.

“Finally,” she breathes, like they’ve been gone forever. I guess they have in her eyes, but she didn’t seem to mind whileI was fucking her brains out. She definitely forgot they existed. She forgot her own name. “Need you.”

“Jesus,” Blaise mutters, staring at me, then her. “She knotted you?”

I lift a brow. “No. I did that. But she might’ve started it.”

Xar snorts. “You good?”

I nod, but Evie squirms, the movement making me hiss as her cunt clenches around my still slightly-swollen knot. “Baby – careful.”

She’s not listening. With an effort, I ease her up off my knot slightly, but remain buried deep inside her.

Her eyes are locked on Blaise’s waistband like it’s the Holy Grail. “I want more,” she whispers, hoarse and wrecked. “Please. Want all of you. All my holes.”

Blaise sets the bottle down carefully. “You sure, omega?”

She moans, crawling off of me with an obscene wet sound that makes all three of us groan. She’s still leaking from me, thighs trembling, lips swollen and slick.

And then she drops to her knees.

Looks up at Blaise. Then Xar.

“I want to be filled,” she begs. “Want to be stretched open. Want one of you in my ass. Please. Need all of you.”

Fuck.

I barely register my own groan before Blaise is pulling his shirt over his head, and Xar is already yanking his sweats down.

“Bed,” Xar orders, voice a rumble. “Hands and knees. Present.”

She scrambles to obey, spine arching, ass in the air, dripping and ready. My knot is just starting to ease as I move behind her, cupping her hips to steady her.

“She’s already full of me,” I warn, voice rough. “Still soaking.”

“That’s the point,” Blaise says, stroking himself slowly as he climbs up in front of her. “She wants to be messy. Don’t you, omega?”

Evie whines. “Please. Alpha. Want to be used.”

That unhinges Xar. He kneels beside me, dragging his hands down her sides, groaning as his fingers tease over her slick, puffy rim.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “She’s so wet. She’ll take it.”

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