Page 63 of False Catch

Eli is the counterpoint to Jackson’s ferocity. He’s at my side, stroking my hair back from my damp forehead, brushing kisses along my temple. His hand smooths down my ribs, his voice a constant murmur of praise. “That’s it, sweetheart. Taking him so well. You look gorgeous stretched around him.”

I glance sideways through watery eyes, and Eli’s stroking himself again, his cock slick and swollen, his pupils almost black from the pheromones drowning the room. The sight makes me clench around Jackson, and he growls against my throat, fucking me harder.

His hand closes around my neck, not choking, but holding me in place for him in a display of dominance as his other arm wraps around my head. His breath is hot at my ear, ragged, full of things he’s still trying not to say. I can feel how close he is, feel the way his cock thickens with every thrust. The pressure changes, swelling inside me until I cry out, back arching.

Oh God. His knot.

It builds between us, stretching me wide, holding him deep. The sensation is almost unbearable, almost too much, yet it makes every nerve light up with pleasure. I can’t stop shaking.

Jackson groans, burying his face against my neck. His control is unraveling by the second, and I can feel the war in him—whether to hold back, or to give in completely. His lips drag over the place where my neck meets my shoulder. He licks, he nips, his teeth hovering. His whole body trembles like he’s holding back from the edge of a cliff.

“Jackson,” Eli says low, steady, his hand rubbing circles over my hip even as his other fists around his cock. “She’s perfect. Look at her. She wants it.”

And he’s right. I want it so badly it feels like my skin will split apart if I don’t get it. I tilt my head, exposing more of my throat. “Please,” I whisper, desperate. “Do it. Claim me.”

That’s all it takes.

With a guttural growl, Jackson rips the condom off, knot still swelling, and slams back into me bare before he’s too big to move. The heat of him pours straight into my body, raw and unshielded, and then his teeth sink into my throat.

White light floods my vision. I taste iron and salt and something sharp like electricity itself, and my synapses fire in a way I can’t explain. It’s like a thousand small doors opening at once. I gasp, arching high, every nerve blooming with that claim. It’s not just pleasure, it’s something deeper, like my body and soul have been waiting for this mark, this knot, this claim. Everything clicks into place.

I scream his name as my orgasm detonates, clenching helplessly around him, the knot locking him deep inside me. His roar shakes the walls as he comes, hot pulses flooding me, the bite and the knot combining until it’s beyond anything I’ve ever known.

I’m floating, shaking, lost, and still dimly aware of Eli watching us, stroking himself harder, his eyes blown wide at the sight.

Jackson doesn’t collapse. He braces over me, still locked by the knot, his teeth pulling free of my throat as he pants against my skin. His eyes burn down into mine—dark, wild, triumphant—as if he knows what he’s just done.

And I know it too.

I’ve been claimed.

And then I see the moment clarity strikes Jackson. He sits up, still locked inside me, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his temples as his gaze shifts from me to Eli. Something raw and unguarded flashes in his dark eyes, something I know isn’t just instinct.

Eli meets that look head-on. No words. Just a steady, open gaze that says yes. That says I understand. That says I’m here, and I want this too.

Jackson’s hand shoots out, tangling in the back of Eli’s sweat-damp hair. He yanks him forward, not with cruelty, but with the kind of inevitability I felt when his teeth sank into me.

And then he bites.

It’s not the same as what he gave me. Not a claim that roots itself in bone and blood, but a mark of something else—ownership, intimacy, love he’s too afraid to name. His teeth sink into Eli’s throat just hard enough to bruise, to leave a mark that will say what his voice won’t.

Eli’s entire body shudders. His hand, already stroking his cock, jerks faster, more desperate. His lips part on a broken sound that’s half-moan, half-cry, and then he’s spilling across my stomach in hot, thick pulses.

I gasp at the sensation, at the sight of him coming undone from something as simple and as devastating as Jackson’s bite. His eyes squeeze shut, face twisting with pleasure, before they open again and stare down at me with stunned, reverent intensity.

Jackson doesn’t let go immediately. He holds him there for one breath, two, before his teeth release. He finally lifts his head, his mouth wet from Eli’s skin, his breathing rough and uneven. His gaze cuts between us, me trembling beneath him, Eli panting beside us, and for the first time, there’s no hesitation. No fear. Just raw certainty.

He pulls Eli in first, mouths crashing together, a kiss that’s desperate and claiming, made of sweat and heat and everything they’ve both been too afraid to say. Eli groans into it, his hand fisting in Jackson’s hair like he never wants to let go.

Then Jackson turns to me.

The kiss he gives me isn’t softer. It’s just as consuming, his tongue stroking deep, his teeth scraping my lip until I whimper against him. He kisses me in a way that proves I’m already marked, already his, and the truth of it hums in every nerve in my body.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his other hand still tangled in Eli’s hair, holding us both in his orbit. His dark eyes burn, wild and reverent all at once.

And in that moment, I know exactly what we are.

Not a mistake. Not a lapse in judgment. Not just sex.