Page 62 of False Catch

Both of them—Eli’s broad shoulders bowing under me, Reese’s flushed chest rising and falling in frantic gasps, the scent of her slick flooding the air—it’s more than I can take. My Alpha senses are lit up, raw and electric. Every sound is sharper, every shift of their bodies under me sharper, every breath carrying their combined scent until it’s lodged in my bones.

I want to come. My cock aches with it. Every thrust pushes me closer to the edge, and still I hold back. Because the sight of them together—Eli, the man who’s anchored me for years, and Reese, the woman who’s been undoing me from the start—is too fucking gorgeous to rush.

They’re mine. In this moment, they’re both mine.

And even with the storm of Alpha instinct clawing at me—demanding I mark, demanding I claim—I cling to the control that’s defined me for years. Because I don’t want to end this yet. I don’t want to let go and shatter what we’ve just built.

Not when I can feel their hearts beating under me, in sync with mine.

Not when I’ve never had anything this perfect.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Reese

The air is thick with them—pheromones layered and snarling until my suppressants don’t stand a chance. It doesn’t just feel like I’ve skipped a dose; it feels like the drugs never mattered at all. Every breath I take is laced with Eli’s rough hunger and Jackson’s darker, more controlled force, and my body answers before my mind can catch up.

I can feel Jackson’s tongue everywhere still, ghosting along my thighs, my clit, inside me. And Eli—God, Eli—was in my mouth, in my throat, holding back only because he cares, because he always cares, even when he’s falling apart. But what undid me wasn’t just the way Eli looked when I sucked him down. It was the moment he leaned in, joined me, and wrapped his lips around Jackson’s cock beside me.

The memory makes me shake.

Watching Eli suck him with me, feeling Jackson’s hands tremble in my hair, hearing his groan crack open in his chest, was the hottest, dirtiest thing I’ve ever seen. And then Jackson lost that iron grip of his control just long enough to fuck Eli, to fuck through Eli into me. The sound of Eli breaking under it, his groans muffled against my neck as Jackson drove into him from behind, was almost enough to make me come again just from the thought of it.

And Jackson himself—holy shit. He’s so much bigger up close than I ever let myself admit. His body is all hard lines and muscle, broader than Eli, darker too—dark hair, dark eyes, a presence that eclipses everything else in the room. Eli is beautiful in a different way: chestnut hair damp with sweat, his long, lean muscles flexing as he thrust into me, his almost-black eyes drowned in pheromones until there’s no telling where the man ends and the Alpha begins.

Together they’re devastating.

Eli shudders above me, his thrusts slowing. He groans against my mouth, hips jerking, and then I feel it—hot pulses deep inside me as he spills. My whole body clenches around him instinctively, taking every drop. My nails dig into his back, my head falling back on the couch cushions as my body seizes with aftershocks.

It’s too much, and not enough.

He pulls out slowly, carefully, his cock sliding wet from my body. The sudden emptiness makes me gasp, my thighs trembling around nothing. Eli collapses into the floor beside me, a hand thrown across his heaving chest, sweat shining on his skin. He looks wrecked and gorgeous, and my heart aches at the sight of him.

But then the weight of another presence draws my gaze.

Jackson.

He’s behind Eli one moment, then he’s rising, looming, pulling the condom from his cock with a sharp snap of latex. His dark eyes are locked on me, his chest rising and falling like he’s been holding back a storm. His muscles gleam with sweat, his hair damp against his forehead. He looks massive, dangerous, inevitable—and I want him so badly I forget to breathe.

He tosses the used condom aside, then pauses, his voice low and rough. “You good?”

It’s not just a check-in. It’s command and concern tangled together, Alpha edge and lover’s care. My body is wrecked, used and trembling, but the answer is instant. I nod. Hard. “Yes.”

Jackson’s gaze flicks over me, taking in every detail—the flush on my chest, the bruises forming where Eli’s grip held me, the wet heat still slick between my thighs. His eyes darken further, but his control doesn’t falter. His alpha dominance is as strong as Gray’s right now, maybe even stronger, which just makes me tremble even more with anticipation.

“New one,” he mutters, already tearing another foil packet from the nightstand stash. His voice is all grit and restraint, like he’s strangling every instinct that wants to just take. “I’m not putting you at risk.”

The sight of his broad shoulders hunched as he rolls the condom down over his thick length, forearms corded with strain, his jaw tight, makes my mouth go dry. He’s the most intimidating man I’ve ever seen, and right now, he’s mine.

Eli stirs beside me, sitting up and brushing sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead, his eyes flicking between Jackson and me. There’s no jealousy there, only hunger, only the raw echo of what we just shared. And the weight of that, that neither of them are pulling away, that they’re both still here, still tangled with me, sends a new rush of heat flooding my body.

Jackson’s shadow falls over me as he leans forward, his cock sheathed again, his dark gaze locked on mine as he cages me in with his arms. Every nerve in me sings with anticipation. I want him. I want all of him, everything he’s been holding back, everything he thinks he doesn’t deserve to give.

And when his hands settle on my thighs, spreading me wide around his hips, I realize I’ll take it all. There’s the tiniest bit of resistance when he slides into me just from the sheer size of him and for a brief moment, I wonder how Eli took him. But then his hips meet mine and he grinds his pelvis against my clit and all thought aside from the feel of him leaves my body.

Jackson fucks me like nothing else exists, like his body was built for this rhythm, this brutal precision. Each thrust slams through me, stealing my breath, tearing sounds out of my throat I’ve never made before. My thighs quake around his hips, my nails digging into his back as he drives me higher and higher.

I finally understand what the guys meant when they joked about how “athletic” Eli and Jackson’s private sessions were. This isn’t just sex—it’s a contest of strength and stamina, every muscle in his body working to keep me on the edge of breaking. He’s unrelenting, savage, and it’s so good it almost makes me sob.