Page 107 of Knuckles & Knives
The conversation that follows lasts three hours and covers territory none of us have navigated before. Practical considerations like living arrangements and decision-making processes. Emotional concerns about jealousy and competing loyalties. Legal questions about how unconventional relationships function in conventional business structures.
But beneath all the practical discussion, there’s a deeper current of recognition—that what exists between us has already transcended traditional categories, that trying to force it into conventional structures would diminish rather than strengthen it.
“So we’re really doing this?” Dom asks as the afternoon fades to a dusky gold. His voice is low and rough, like gravel dragged over velvet. “All of us, together, permanently?”
“We’re already doing it,” I murmur, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. “We’ve been doing it for months. Now we’re just… stripping away the excuses.”
“And the empire?” Marcus asks from across the room, already peeling off his tie.
“Becomes the foundation for something better,” I reply. “Built not on fear or exploitation but on us. On love. On trust. On heat.”
Dom’s strength has always anchored us, but now that strength pins me to the bed, his weight a delicious pressure as he growls into my neck. “Mine,” he whispers, the word more promise than question. His hands roam with rough purpose, palms calloused, mouth hot as he sucks a mark just beneath my collarbone.
Kieran joins next, sliding in from behind like silk wrapping around steel. His fingers are cool and skilled, unfastening my bra with one hand, sliding the other between my legs with a strategist’s focus, finding every nerve ending like he’s mapped my body as meticulously as he once mapped war zones.
“You’re soaking,” he murmurs in my ear, his voice smooth and devastating. “Perfect.”
Then Marcus is there, pulling my hair gently to tilt my head back and kiss me with slow, precise dominance. His mouth is heat and intellect and possession all at once. When he finally pulls away, he’s breathless. “I’ve been analyzing this moment for weeks,” he says, “and there’s no scenario where I don’t end up buried inside you tonight.”
Axel, wild and uncontainable, is already naked, already crawling up the bed like a storm on the horizon. “God, look at her,” he breathes. “Dripping, trembling, wrecked already and we haven’t even started.”
“We’re starting now,” Dom growls.
Suddenly I’m flipped onto my stomach, ass in the air, face buried in the silk sheets as Kieran parts my thighs and slides his tongue along my slit with infuriating control. I cry out, and Marcus muffles me with his mouth while Axel strokes himself at the foot of the bed, his eyes glued to every shiver that rolls through me.
“Goddamn,” Axel says. “Watching her come apart is better than any high I’ve ever had.”
Kieran’s tongue is relentless ay my clit, licking and sucking until my thighs shake. Dom palms my ass cheeks, kneading them open, and I feel the cool slide of lube before two thick fingers press in where I’m tightest.
I arch, overstimulated. “Fuck. Dom, Kieran, I can’t…”
“You can,” Marcus says calmly, running his thumb over my lip. “We’ll hold you together.”
“Or tear you apart first,” Axel adds, laughing wickedly.
The first orgasm rips through me so fast my knees buckle, my back arches, and I cry out, but there’s no pause. No mercy.
Marcus flips me onto my back and sinks into me, slow and deep, until I’m gasping around him. Dom positions himself behind me again, stretching me wide until I’m filled front and back, full in every way that counts.
They move in sync, thrusting slow and deep, grinding against each other through me. Sweat slicks my skin. The bed rocks. Kieran holds my hands above my head, kissing me while I scream through another orgasm.
“Look at her,” Kieran growls. “She was made for this. For us.”
Axel kneels beside my head, his cock stroking across my lips. I take him in eagerly, moaning around him as Marcus fucks me harder.
Axel cups my jaw, eyes wild. “God, you’re filthy.”
And I am. Every inch of me is claimed—filled, used, worshipped.
The third time I come, Marcus is pounding into me like he’s trying to brand his name inside my womb. Dom’s cock is still up my ass. He grunts low and filthy as he drives deeper.
“Ready?” Marcus pants.
“Fuck yes.”
They both groan as they come inside me—hot, deep, overwhelming.
But we’re not done.
