Page 116 of Knuckles & Knives
Kieran positions himself between my thighs, his ice-blue eyes dark with hunger as he settles his mouth against my center. “Let me taste you,” he requests, though he’s already beginning the kind of worship that makes my back arch off the bed. “Let me remind you why you chose us.”
“As if I could forget,” I gasp, but then his tongue finds exactly the right spot and thinking becomes impossible.
Dom’s mouth claims my breast while Marcus takes the other, their coordinated efforts creating sensations that seem to connect directly to where Kieran’s tongue is working magic. Axel’s hands roam my body like he’s trying to memorize every curve, every response, every sound I make.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal and wonder. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this. Spread out for us. Taking everything we give you.”
“More,” I beg, my hips arching against Kieran’s mouth. “I need more. I need all of you inside me.”
“Together?” Dom asks, his voice rough with possibility.
“However you want,” I reply breathlessly. “Just… together. Always together.”
What follows is the most intimate experience of my life—four men who love me working together to ensure that every possible need is met simultaneously. The logistics should be complicated, but six months of practice has taught us how to move together like dancers, how to coordinate so that pleasure multiplies rather than competes.
The final climax, when it comes, feels like validation of everything we’ve built—personal and professional, intimate and empire. Voices calling each other’s names, hands gripping with desperate affection, bodies pressed together in configurations that should be awkward but feel perfectly natural.
Afterward, as we lie tangled together in the massive bed that’s become the center of our shared life, there’s a sense of completion that goes far beyond physical satisfaction. We’ve claimed each other and our transformed empire simultaneously, proved once again that love creates more sustainable power than fear ever could.
“No regrets?” I ask quietly, the same question I’ve posed after every major milestone in our relationship.
“Never,” comes the unanimous response, their voices carrying six months’ worth of certainty.
“Good,” I murmur, settling deeper into our collective embrace while my gaze drifts toward the windows that overlook the city we’ve transformed. “Because tomorrow we start expanding to Chicago.”
“Ambitious,” Kieran observes with fond humor.
“Necessary,” I reply, borrowing his own word. “What we’ve built here works. Other cities deserve the same chance.”
“Our legacy,” Dom says with quiet satisfaction.
“Our empire,” Marcus adds with analytical precision.
“Our family,” Axel concludes with characteristic emotional honesty.
“All of the above,” I agree, feeling the truth of it settle into my bones like certainty.
And in the peaceful aftermath of our celebration, surrounded by the men who chose to stand with me against impossible odds, I understand that we’ve achieved something unprecedented—not just transformation of criminal power, but demonstration that love-based structures create lasting change in ways that violence and fear never could.
The war for Vincent Blackwood’s empire is ancient history. The construction of something infinitely better spreads to new territories with every passing month.
And this time, we’re not just building an empire. We’re building the future. Together.
Peace never lasts forever, though, but now, we’re ready for whatever comes next
CHAPTER 35
The cemetery is quiet at dawn, dew still clinging to the marble headstones as I stand before my father’s grave for the first time in over a year. Vincent Blackwood’s monument is imposing even in death—black granite carved with symbols of power that once meant everything to me and now feel like relics from another lifetime.
“I did it, Dad,” I whisper, placing fresh white roses at the base of his headstone. “I took back everything they stole from us. But not the way you would have.”
The morning air carries the scent of blooming cherry trees, a stark contrast to the violence and fear that once defined this place. Even the cemetery has been transformed—what was once a gathering spot for criminal meetings is now a peaceful memorial garden where families come to remember their loved ones without fear of gang activity.
“Raven?” Dom’s voice is soft behind me, his massive frame casting a protective shadow as he approaches. “You okay, baby?”
I lean back against his chest, drawing comfort from his steady presence. “Just thinking about how different everything is now. How different I am.”
“Better,” he says simply, his arms encircling me with gentle possessiveness. “Stronger. More yourself than you ever were when you were focused on revenge.”
