Page 56 of Sacrifice

“Your ass,” I say, straightforward as a bullet. “I’m going to knot you there. Let the others have their turn with you.”

Her breath hitches, a mix of shock and anticipation, and I feel her body tremble with excitement against mine.

I sit down on the bed, her wedding dress, white as her pale skin, pooling around our hips. She moans—a deep, primal sound—as I get her positioned on my lap. Her slick is all over me, a reminder of where we’ve been, and I spread her legs wide, lining myself up with her tightest entrance.

The others are like wolves, edging closer, eyes glued to the spectacle. I catch Nero’s gaze, the bastard smirking like he’s just won the jackpot. He knows exactly what’s about to happen.

“Ready?” I whisper into Aisling’s ear.

“Yes…please,” she breathes back.

Fuck yes.

I push into her, feeling her body give way to my insistence. Her gasp is music to my ears, a symphony of pleasure and pain as I thrust deeper, until I’m fully seated and her ass clenches around my knot.

I can’t help but chuckle at her expression—a mix of frustration and desire—as she gasps, the frown etching deeper between her brows. The sight is too damn irresistible. With a growl that rumbles from deep within my chest, I reach around to cup her breasts, thumbs circling over the hardened peaks, teasing them into even stiffer points.

“Relax,” I murmur, watching her reactions as closely as I’m tracking the movements of the others.

Luka, that unpredictable force of nature, is already stroking himself with an intense focus in his eyes, clearly eager for his turn. Oberon, ever the steadfast one, trails his fingers up and down Rook’s spine, sending shivers through the beta who barely contains his own hunger.

They’re all wolves on the edge, their restraint hanging by a thread, waiting for my say-so—because Aisling is mine before anyone else’s, and they all damn well know it.

The air is thick with the musk of desire, the kind that worms its way under your skin and sets every nerve alight with anticipation. I give Oberon a nod, a silent command that he’s been waiting for, and he steps forward like he’s bewitched, drawn in by the gravity of the omega in my arms.

Oberon’s hands are gentle as he takes hold of Aisling’s thighs, his palms rough against her smooth skin. He aligns himself with her dripping pussy, and I watch, fascinated, as he presses in just slightly, the head of his cock breaching her entrance. I watch as his cock disappears into her hungry cunt, and I shudder as I feel her tense.

“Take it slow,” I order, my voice a low growl. “She’s still tight.”

“Got it,” Oberon mutters, his gaze locked on where their bodies meet.

Aisling lets out a soft, keening sound that cuts right through me, stoking the fire that’s already threatening to consume us all. I tighten my hold on her, possessive and protective all at once, feeling the power that courses through this room, through these bonds we’ve forged in blood and lust.

“Good girl,” I whisper in her ear, feeling her melt further into my embrace. “Just let go and feel it all.”

I can’t help but groan as Oberon starts to move inside her, his thrusts shallow at first, then growing deeper and more confident. The pressure of his cock against mine through the wall separating Aisling’s ass from her pussy is an indescribable sensation. It’s almost too much, the way her inner muscles clench around my knot, squeezing me like she never wants to let go.

“Fuck, that’s tight,” I grunt, feeling a bead of sweat roll down my temple. Aisling’s head lolls back onto my shoulder, her breaths coming in short gasps as Oberon finds his rhythm. My beautiful bride, still dressed in white…taking two cocks at the same time.

“Doing so good for us, Aisling,” I murmur into her ear, peppering kisses along her jawline. “Just like that.”

Oberon braces himself on my shoulders, using me for leverage as he fucks Aisling with a steady pace, her feet draped over his arms. It’s a sight that would break a lesser man, but all it does is fuel my desire, driving me closer to the edge with every passing second.

Across the room, Luka and Rook are like statues carved from flesh and sin, stroking themselves lazily. Luka stands; Rook lounges in a chair in the corner, lips parted. Their eyes are locked on Aisling, dark with lust, their cocks hard and ready. Nero, ever the hedonist, saunters over to where a bottle of champagne rests on a nearby table. His fingers wrap around the neck of a fresh bottle of champagne, lifting it effortlessly, muscles flexing in his tattooed shoulders.

“Never thought I’d enjoy watching this much,” he drawls, popping the cork with a practiced flick of his wrist. Champagne fizzes over the rim, but Nero doesn’t waste a drop, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long, deep swig. His gaze, hooded and intense, never leaves Aisling as she writhes between Oberon and me.

“Keep going,” I urge Oberon, feeling Aisling’s body clench tighter around us both. “Make her feel it all.”

Nero sets the bottle aside, amber liquid spilling over his hand, and strokes himself, his movements mirroring those of Luka and Rook. His eyes glint with something primal, a hunger that goes beyond the physical. He’s watching us, taking it all in, committing every detail to memory.

“Christ, Gunnar,” Oberon pants, his grip on my shoulders tightening. “She’s…incredible.”

“Damn right,” I growl, my voice strained with effort as I hold back my own climax. Aisling’s small hands clutch at my forearms, her nails digging in just enough to sting—a perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

“Keep it up, boys,” Nero taunts, his voice laced with amusement. “You’re putting on quite the performance.”

I focus, hyper-aware of the heat, the friction, the way Oberon’s pace becomes erratic. The room is charged with desire, each breath, each moan from Aisling a testament to the raw, carnal dance we’re locked in.

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