Page 61 of Tempted to Rebel

But even though this isn’t quite how I imagined, even though it isn’t my face buried between her thighs or kissing the sweat from her skin, it’s close enough for me to pretend.

My cock is in my hand before I realize I’ve undone my belt and pulled down my pants, but by the time Rage is balls deep inside of her, I’m stroking my shaft like my life depends on it, the moan caught in my throat barely restrained. They’re too caught up in each other to notice me standing in the doorway, but I take in every detail.

Amazed.

Completely, utterly enthralled.

Not only is she sharing her body with them, but it’s clear that this is more intimate than how I’d imagine your typical foursome would be. Tears shine in her eyes as she looks between each of my brothers, a smile curving on her lips as she touches them with gentle strokes and hushed whispers.

I still don’t know why Rage tore across the city to get to her, but ifthisis what waits for him every time he comes home, I think I understand.

There’s love inside this room.

I suddenly crave a taste of it more than I need air. More than sleep, or food, or whatever else I need to survive. My body can starve if it means I’ll receive a drop of the magic playing out before my eyes.

It’s more than physical intimacy. It’s something deeper, an unspoken bond that I’ve never experienced before.

Love.

None of them say it aloud. There are no hushedI love you’s shared between them. But I know that if I can feel it standing ten feet away, they have to feel it, too.

All three of my brothers come, two of them inside her body and one across her chest. I come for her, too, clamping my teethon my fingers to keep from making a sound as thick ropes arc toward the bed, staining the beige carpet white.

I’m an intruder to this precious, vulnerable moment between them, and I don’t feel a shred of shame or guilt for taking a piece of it for myself.

That’s the worst part of all, the lack of remorse.

Because if I’m willing to take this special moment from them, what’s going to stop me from taking something else, too? How far will I go for my taste of happiness—and will I steal it from the people I’ve sworn my life to protect?

A heavy weight settles in my chest as I zip up my pants and back out of the room. I shouldn’t be here. I knew that before I ever walked through the front door.

But I’ve learned that I crave more than Celia’s body—I crave her love, too.

And that’s the most dangerous desire of all.

Chapter 23

Celia

I barely manageto keep from moaning as sinfully hot water cascades down my back. Showering alone after an eventful morning with three naked men takes an act of God to accomplish, but I manage to keep all of them out of the bathroom long enough to soak in the hot water and wash all the cum and sweat off of my body. If any one of them had slipped into the room behind me, I’m sure I’d have a dick pressed against my ass the whole time I’m washing my hair… until inevitably, he manages to push his cock between my thighs and fuck me against the tile wall.

A familiar ache blooms between my thighs, and I have to ignore the urge to slip my hand between them and take care of business.

I reallyamsore down there.

My muscles have gotten used to the push and pull of my intense morning workout sessions with Thanatos, but my pussy isn’t on the same page with being stuffed full of throbbing cock every day.

I bite the inside of my cheeks as a wave of desire washes over me, turning my bodyhot. Taking a quick breath, I turn the water temperature way down and let it cool my heated skin. I’msure the boys aren’t faring much better, but if they smell even the slightest hint of sex on me, they’ll try to start round two in a heartbeat, and this mama needs a break for at least a few more hours.

Once I’ve turned the water off and toweled myself dry, I slip into a pair of silky pajama shorts and a matching top, complete with an oversized, knit sweater to fight off the morning chill. The sweater falls past my hips and should deter my men from touching the goods underneath…ifthey have any self control.

I’m not sure they do… but I can’t imagine them any other way.

Funny how the things I used to complain about are now the features I might miss if they suddenly stopped.

By the time I make it into the kitchen, Rebel is attempting to flip a pancake without using a spatula while Ruin stares out the window at the backyard. The willow tree he carved up last night is an eyesore, but I feel better knowing that it can’t mock my failures anymore. It seems silly, letting something as simple as a tree impact me so strongly. I don’t know how I let it go on for so long.

He must see my reflection in the window, because he turns toward me the moment I arrive. The smooth, flat mask that usually covers his face is still broken in half, leaving his mouth and cheeks exposed, but progress has been made between us. I’m not sure how far things will go or if I’ll ever fully understand his reality, but I can try.

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