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Briggs pushes deeper, his knot swelling, catching at her entrance. She screams around my shaft, her body convulsing as she comes again instantly, another climax ripping through her.

Suddenly, she yanks away from me, spit connecting her mouth to my cock. I watch wide eyed as her teeth clamp down on my inner thigh.

It’s a sharp, searing pain at first, and then she’s licking at the mark, sealing it as she looks up at me.

"Fuck."

The sight of her biting me, her face slick with tears and drool sends me over the edge. I stroke myself and come across her face, marking her skin, her lips, her tongue. She swallows, blinking up at me.

I drop to my knees, bending down and sinking my teeth into her neck, right next to Briggs' mark. She gasps, arching into the bite, a fresh wave of pleasure rippling through her.

When I pull back after sealing my mark, I can feel her heart racing as she tries to catch her breath from her orgasm. Through our bond, I can feel all of her love for us pouring out of her.

Clint growls from beneath her. He leans up, wraps his arms around her, pulling her back down against his chest. His teeth find the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. He bites down, hard, and she cries out, her hands gripping his shoulders.

When he pulls back, she's still panting. She bares her teeth, and her mouth finds Clint’s neck—the right side, smack in the middle. She bites down, sinking her teeth into him.

Clint jerks, driving his knot into her cunt, knotting her. Briggs groans, his hips jerking inside her.

They stay like that, knotted together. Three bodies, connected, breathing as one. Her cunt is still locked around Clint's shaft, her ass stretched around Briggs' knot. The room smells like lime-cherry-banana-coffee. All of us mixing together in filthy pleasure.

I step back, looking at the scene. Then I move, grabbing a rag from the bathroom. I gently wipe the slick and cum that's leaked from her, running the rag along her belly, breasts, and face.

She murmurs, relaxed, boneless between them.

When their knots deflate, they untangle slowly, trading lazy kisses, and gentle touches before disappearing into the bathroom. A few minutes later, they return and drift back beneath the blankets.

I slide in beside her as Clint curls around her back, and Briggs settles against her front. I wrap an arm over both of them, pulling her close until we're one tangled heap.

"Jesus," I breathe. "That was⁠—"

"Perfect," she finishes, her voice a sleepy whisper.

"You're perfect."

She's ours.

I press a kiss to her hair. "Sleep, Sweetheart."

Chapter

Fifty

Autumn

I'm fine. Or, at least as fine as somebody can be after finding out their ex-boyfriend is probably stalking them across state lines.

The sheriff is coming today, sometime after lunch. The box is getting turned over as evidence. It feels like we're actually moving forward, instead of just sitting around wondering what happens next.

Which is why I escaped to the barn.

Not because I'm upset. I just wanted five minutes where nobody was treating me like I might shatter.

River stands patiently in the cross ties while I work a brush through her mane. Every few strokes, I stop and glance down at the screenshot pulled up on my phone.

The braid is ridiculous. Completely unnecessary, and therefore, absolutely perfect.

I saw a video online of a woman braiding ribbons through her horse's mane for a show, and immediately decided River needed the same treatment.