Page 260 of What We Become

Well.

If you insist, Detective.

I straighten on my knees, making him lift his head to keep looking at me. Sage makes a beautiful broken sound beneath us when he thrusts harder.

Knox’s big hand slides from her back to her hip. I glance down just in time to see his thick finger dipping into her ass.

Sage jerks under the touch, her whole body tightening in that gorgeous, helpless way that makes every atom in me sit up and beg for more.

“Jesus Christ,” I say reverently.

“Fuck me,” Holden grunts, already halfway gone.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

I stroke myself once—twice—slicking lube where it’s needed most and line up behind him, one hand braced on his hip. He looks back at me over his shoulder, ice-blue eyes cut razor-sharp with heat.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he says.

“Baby, regrettable is my baseline.”

Then I push in.

Holden’s mouth opens on a harsh inhale, his whole body locking. The angle drives him deeper into Sage and her cry punches right through the room, all high and wrecked and perfect. I nearly black out on the spot.

“Oh, that,” I gasp. “That’s—holy shit.”

It’s obscene. It’s better than obscene. Holden is tight and hot around me, Sage is taking him in front of me, and for a second I can’t find a single fucking word. My hand digs into his waist. His hand presses harder between Sage’s shoulder blades to steady himself.

“Move,” he grits out.

“Yes, sir.”

I start slow because even I’m not enough of a menace to ruin this by rushing it, but every thrust sends a visible shudder through all three of us. Holden’s control frays by the second. Sage is making these broken little sounds into the sheets that I want to bottle and sell on the black market.

She bucks her hips back, chasing more from Holden even as he takes from me, his body a taut wire strung between us, every muscle coiling tighter with each roll of my hips. The chain reaction is perfection—my thrust into him drives him deeper into her, and she arches like the whole thing was her idea, fingers clenched in the sheets.

Eli’s still on Micah, his mouth working with that focused intensity he saves for executions and this, apparently. Micah braces a hand against the headboard as he kisses Sage.

“Baby girl,” he gasps against her lips. “God, you’re everything.”

Knox growls low in his throat, his finger still buried in her ass, twisting just enough to make her whimper into Micah’s mouth. “More?” he rumbles, like he’s offering her the world or a wrecking ball, and she nods frantically, her eyes squeezing shut as he adds a second finger, stretching her with that careful brutality only he can pull off.

I’m losing it, my rhythm picking up because Holden feels too damn good, all resistance and surrender wrapped in one infuriating package. “You take it so well, Detective,” I grit out, slamming home harder, and he answers by reaching back to grab my thigh, nails digging in like punishment or permission—I don’t care which, as long as he doesn’t stop the low, guttural sounds he’s making every time I bottom out.

Sage’s breath hitches, her body trembling under the assault from all sides, and I turn to watch us in the floor-to-ceiling mirror—she’s flushed, lips parted, eyes glazed with that beautiful haze where pleasure blurs into overload. “Look at us, kitten,” I grind out. “Your husbands, ruining you on our wedding night. How’s it feel?”

She meets my gaze in the reflection, her smile wicked and shattered all at once. “Perfect,” she manages, right before another moan rips from her throat as Knox crooks his fingers and Holden thrusts in time with mine, the three of us synced like some filthy machine built for her undoing.

Eli pulls off Micah with a wet pop, his lips swollen, and he surges up to claim Sage’s mouth next, kissing her fierce and filthy while Micah pants beside them, stroking himself slow like he’s savoring the view. “Little savage,” Eli murmurs against her lips. “Ours. All fucking ours.”

Holden clenches around me, his control fracturing, and I feel him tense, his hips stuttering as he buries himself in Sage one last time with a curse. He comes hard, spilling into her, and the sight of it—the way she gasps and shudders, pushing back for more—sends me right over the edge after him. Heat races up my spine, my vision narrowing to the curve of her back, the sweat on Holden’s neck, and I empty into him with a groan that’s half-laugh, half-snarl, my hands gripping his hips like I’ll fall if I let go.

We collapse in a tangle, breaths heaving, bodies slick and spent, but Knox isn’t done. He eases his fingers free and maneuvers Sage onto her back like she’s precious cargo, his massive frame covering her as he notches himself against her pussy. “Fury,” he says, voice gravel and devotion. “Ready?”

“Always,” she whispers, wrapping her legs around him, and he slides home slow, filling her inch by inch until she’s arching off the bed again, nails raking down his back.

Micah and Eli flank her, hands roaming—Micah’s gentle on her breasts, Eli’s rougher at her throat—while Holden recovers beside me, his chest rising and falling like he’s run a marathon. I prop myself on an elbow, watching Knox fuck her with those deep, unhurried strokes that make her eyes roll back, and yeah, this is heaven. Or the hottest layer of hell. Either way, I’m staying.