Page 51 of Sweet Torment

“I’m never nice when it comes to sharing you,” Owen says, driving deeper. “Never have been, never will be.”

His knot is swelling more with each thrust, catching on my entrance with each stroke. The stretch is intense. A perfect burn. “That’s my girl,” he praises as I grind down harder. “Make yourself come on my cock.”

My hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit as I grind down on him, and then I’m coming. He pushes his knot inside me with one final thrust, stretching me to the point of pain before it tips back into pleasure. I feel his warmth fill me as he comes, his hands squeezing my waist. I cry out, loving the feeling of him. “You feel perfect.”

I lean down, making sure not to put any pressure on his injured shoulder, and brush my lips against his ear. The position changes the angle of his knot inside me, and it’s delicious, pressing against my insides in a new way. “Owen.”

“What, Princess?”

“I want to belong to you forever.” The words come out desperate and true, pulled from somewhere deep inside me. “I want you to mark me. Keep me, please. Right now.”

“You sure?” But he’s already mouthing at my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “No take backs.”

“No take backs,” I agree breathlessly, tilting my head further to give him better access.

His teeth sink in, breaking the skin there. The pain is immediately chased by intense pleasure. As our bond snaps into place, his emotions flood through me: possessiveness, need, and a love so strong it steals my breath. He comes again with his lips against my throat, his knot pulsing inside me, filling me with another gush of him.

“My turn,” I gasp, and bite down on his good side.

“Fuck!” Owen shouts, and I feel him jerk inside me again.

“Your dads are gonna be really mad,” I whisper, randomly thinking about Tristan’s father loading me onto the helicopter.

Owen pulls me down into a hard kiss. “Princess, never bring up those old fucks when I’m inside you again. Fuck them.”

“They’re dead to us,” Tristan adds darkly from his watch position, his finger tracing the edge of his knife. “I don’t plan on mine breathing much longer.”

“I love when you talk dirty to me, Tris,” I say, and he chuckles.

Owen tweaks my nipple, bringing my attention back to him. There’s a softness in his eyes I rarely see. “Mine,” he murmurs, tracing the mark he’s left on my neck.

“Yours.”

“Weller,” I call softly, still impaled on Owen’s knot. “Kiss me?”

Weller looks torn about leaving his post as he scans the area. But he comes to me, one hand tangling in my hair as he claims my mouth in a deep, soft kiss. “Soon,” he promises against my lips. “When we’re safe.”

Owen doesn’t say anything about Weller kissing me.

“Two more to go in my hot little alpha collection,” I say, looking at Freddie and Tristan.

“I can’t fucking wait,” Freddie promises, watching the movement of Owen’s fingers as they trace patterns on my skin.

Tristan palms my throat and tilts my head up, his touch gentle but commanding. He kisses me with surprising tenderness, his lips soft against mine. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” The vulnerability in his voice makes me shiver, so different from his usual mask.

The walkie crackles, breaking the moment. “Planning for extraction in one hour,” Ezra’s voice reports, tinny through the speaker. “Helicopter to the clearing half a klick north. There’s a storm coming in, but it looks like we might get an opening, so hang tight.”

17

BIANCA

By the time his knot goes down, my legs are jelly, but Freddie helps me stand. Owen curses creatively as he tries to pull his pants back on with one functional arm, not wanting anyone to help him.

“Time to head to the landing zone,” Weller says, his eyes moving to Owen’s mark. I realize it settles him, that one more of them has claimed me permanently.

“Negative on extraction,” Ezra’s voice crackles, tense. “Storm is coming in worse than expected. Can’t fly in this shit. Find shelter for the night and hunker down. The guards seem to be sticking to the lodge, and we’re not seeing any heat movement that would suggest they’re coming. Probably waiting for daylight.”

“Great.” Owen jostles his injured shoulder and hisses at the movement.