Page 221 of What We Become

Hands move over me constantly.

A palm cups my breast.

Fingers tangle in my hair.

A thumb smears spit from my chin.

I pull off Knox just long enough to gasp, “Who⁠—”

A hand slides under my belly, lifting me. A mouth brushes my ear through the edge of a mask.

“Does it matter?”

No.

No, it really fucking doesn’t.

I laugh, wrecked and wild, and then Knox is back at my lips, and I suck him down while the two behind me pick up speed. One of them reaches around and rubs my clit in exact circles. I scream around Knox. My whole body tightens. The hand on my clit doesn’t let up. If anything, it gets crueler—faster, tighter, forcing me right up against the edge while the men behind me settle into something deeper than chaos.

I know them now.

I know the shape of this.

Micah is the one in my pussy. I feel it in the way he moves—deep and deliberate, every thrust measured like he’s trying to make me come apart without breaking me, even while he’s buried to the hilt and groaning like he’s one second from losing his mind. He always fucks me like that, like tenderness and ruin are the same language.

And in my ass⁠—

“Milo,” I choke around Knox, and the man behind me laughs.

The sound is ragged and bright. “Gold star for the new detective,” he pants, shifting his weight off his injured leg. “Jesus, kitten, your ass is—fuck⁠—”

His words break off into a moan when another body crowds him from behind.

Everything in me goes still for one wonderful moment.

Then I feel it—the shift, the press, Milo cursing, his hands digging bruises into my hips as someone slicks him open and starts pushing in.

“Oh fuck,” Milo gasps, voice climbing high and breathless. “Oh, fuck, okay, yep, there he is.”

Holden.

I know before Milo says anything else. There’s a ruthlessness to the way it happens, the way Milo gets held down and filled anyway, the way the rhythm changes all at once. Micah inside me. Milo inside my ass. Holden inside Milo.

My brain short-circuits around it.

Knox is still in my mouth, thick and steady, feeding me every thrust while my spit slicks his cock and runs down my chin. I try to moan and choke on him at the same time, and all it does is make Knox swear under his breath and tighten his grip in my hair.

“Look at you,” he grinds out. “Fuck, Fury.”

I can’t. My eyes are half-blind with tears and moonlight and the sheer obscene overload of it, but I feel everything.

Micah’s cock dragging deep in my pussy. Milo thrusting into my ass in shorter, frantic strokes because Holden is driving into him from behind and making him lose any rhythm he had. Knox claiming my mouth. Hands everywhere. Everywhere.

Milo is making sounds I’ve never heard from him before—broken, helpless, almost disbelieving little moans every time Holden slams into him and knocks him harder into me.

“Stay still,” Holden says, voice low and sharpened to a blade.

Milo lets out a laugh that turns into a whine. “I would love to know what part of this situation is giving you the impression I’m capable of that.”