Page 70 of Penny for Your Saints

I press myself against Quentin—welcomed by the circle of his arms—his hands in my hair; the whisper of his lips against mine as he says.

“Kiss me, Louie.”

The sensations have me so enraptured that I haven’t sensed Frank making his way behind us until his warm, rough hands close around my hips—the pressure of his cock against where my slick pussy and Quentin’s cock meet.

My eyes flutter open to find Caz—suspended by his own upper body strength above Q and Seb’s faces—his cock slipping free of Seb’s mouth just in time to pass between Q and I.

Both of us lap greedily at Caz’s cock—the thick gold ring through his cock head flopping this way and that as Q and I flick our tongues in alternating rhythms, much to Caz’s delight.

Behind me, Frank’s breath catches as he manages to press his cock inside me—his girth struggling to slip deeper against Q’s sheathed length.

I moan against Caz’s cock as Frank pushes deeper—Quentin’s abdominal muscles rippling against my stomach as he feels Frank stroke the underside of his cock inside of me.

“I don’t know if I can get my knot in here with the two of you,” he grunts out, drawing back a few inches before his hips lurch forward again.

“It’s not easy—but, mon dieu, it’s worth it,” Seb grits out, sweat beading along his brow as he struggles to pace himself deep in Quentin’s tight omega ass.

Caz pants as his legs twitch—his eyes greedy for the sight of us as we all move in and against one another. I close my mouth around his cockhead and his eyes roll back until only the whitesshow for a few glorious seconds before his breath hitches into speech.

“Knot in lock,” he huffs, the muscles in his right cheek tic-ing as he struggles against cumming. “That’s the triple black diamond forbidden cum, isn’t it?” He’s working against his whole body now, trying to give a smirk when he can’t fully control the muscles in his face.

Evidently Caz’s comment is enough to properly inspire Frank—who pushes inside me up to the knot—Quentin and I moaning loudly as the tightness and friction threatens to drive us mad.

“When even one of ‘em tightens around me like that, it’s heaven,” Frank rumbles, his grip on my hips squeezing as he rocks back, then forward again—Quentin and I wailing in pleasure.

“Just you wait for Louise’s lock,” Q gasps as Seb makes all of us undulate with an upward pump of his hips—Seb’s knot pressing fervidly against Q’s slick asshole.

We continue like this, our bodies writhing—moaning and sighing until Q makes a high, thready sound—and then there’s a wet sucking noise and Seb’s knot is inside him.

As if an electric current travels through all of us in a circuit—I can feel everyone quicken with orgasm like falling dominoes across our shared connection.

Seb goes first—his hot seed spilling deep inside Quentin’s ass as his facial features twist in beautiful agony.

This sends Caz careening after, blowing his pearly load over Quentin and I’s faces—as he crumples back onto his knees—watching through his post orgasmic haze as Quentin’s body begins to shudder and spasm between Seb and I.

Q cries out in wordless ecstasy as Frank’s knot slams inside of me—my cunt locking both of them inside me with such violent intensity that Frank howls his orgasm above the rest of our breathy cries—his and Quentin’s love filling me, hot and thick.

Exhausted, I fall asleep—Frank and Quentin still joined inside me; Seb lying beneath—strung together like a chain of flowers; Caz already snoring softly—his fingers knit together with the sleeping Sébastien’s.

Four nights and nearly five days pass; Louise and Quentin, completely broken of their heat by our sixth sunrise at the hunting lodge.

Though it was an ideal place to hide out while neither Louise nor Quentin were in any shape to be on the lam, we’ve almost made our way through the meager stores of food in the cabin, and there are matters that need tending to; getting Q and Louise on a regimen of suppressants and blockers, making our way to some of the ‘caches’ we previously could not approach due to logistical reasons, and getting in touch with the Red Bishop, to name a few.

I came dangerously close to both spilling my guts to Louise and biting her in the height of her heat.

The complete and total lack of control, the intrinsic shift in mental state that accompanies the body chemistry of an alpha once they’ve knotted a sigma—an omega; especially if the other Saints are right—and we are all fated mates; it’s insurmountable. There are places where I cannot allow my mind to wander—because even at my most lucid, at my most controlled, I’m barely keeping a lid on things.

Dennis, Michael… Now Louise and all The Saints? It makes my head hurt and my heart ache, and I have to push away all the questions. This information, this irrefutable truth which I feel in my very bones, yet still must deny—relentlessly drags to the surface, again and again.

I slug down another bitter, burned tasting cup of black coffee and do my best to stuff all my swirling thoughts and feelings down, refocusing on the concrete and dangerous tasks at hand.

The five of us sit around the large wooden farm table that has served as a surface to screw on for the duration of the double heats, an old atlas open between Caz and Seb; Q and Louise nursing cups of coffee as they chat in hushed voices.

“Seb, you and Q have a date with the Timberwoods Placement Center,” I announce, reaching forward to tap a section on the atlas a decent ways away from our location circled in red on the faded pages of the map, drawing the attention of the room. “Once you’ve secured meds for Louise and Q, we hit the road—hit that first cache, see how far that gets us—then I’ve got a favor to call in that will take us by sea back down to meet up with the Red Bishop.”

“I’m not going anywhere until y’all tell me who the fuck this Red Bishop is.” Louise sets her metal coffee cup on the table and crosses her arms.

Seb and Caz exchange embarrassed looks, Caz scuffing his feet nervously beneath the table.

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