Page 70 of Knot on the Market

My slick gushes harder in response, scent blooming sharp with lust and relief.Finally.Finally, they're touching me the way my body has been begging for.

Julian's control fractures completely. I watch it happen in the way his shoulders drop, how his breathing goes ragged, the sudden hunger in his eyes as he slides his hand between my thighs from the front. Two elegant fingers brush through my swollen, soaked folds, and the contact makes me buck violently against both of them.

A strangled scream tears from my throat, high and desperate and entirely involuntary. The sound seems to echo in the small room, mixing with their scents—cedar and sawdust from Callum, bergamot and black tea from Julian—until the air itself feels thick with want and need and the promise of finally getting what my body is demanding.

"God, you're soaked," Julian breathes, his fingers exploring with that same careful attention he brings to everything. "So warm, so ready..."

The clinical observation delivered in his rough voice makes me clench around nothing, my inner walls fluttering desperately for something to fill them. More slick pools beneath me, soaking through Callum's jeans and dampening the nest blankets until everything smells like my desperation.

Callum's other hand joins the first under my shirt, both palms covering my breasts now, thumbs working my nipples with increasing confidence. Each touch sends lightning through my nervous system, building something tight and desperate in my core.

"Please," I gasp, my hips rolling between their hands. "Please, I need?—"

"We know what you need," Julian murmurs, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that make my vision blur at the edges. "We're going to take care of you, love. All of you."

The promise in his voice, combined with Callum's rough growl of agreement, makes something crack open inside my chest. Not just the physical need, though that's overwhelming enough to drown in, but something deeper. Something that's been locked away since I fled LA and convinced myself I didn't need anyone.

Julian's fingers move faster against my clit, firm circles that have me seeing stars. Callum pinches both nipples at once, rolling them between his fingers until I'm sobbing with the intensity of sensation. The combination builds and builds until I'm balanced on the knife's edge of something massive.

"That's it," Callum rumbles against my ear, his voice pure gravel and want. "Let go, sweetheart. We've got you."

"Come for us," Julian adds, his precise fingers never faltering in their rhythm. "Show us how good we make you feel."

The dual command, delivered in voices rough with their own need, is what finally pushes me over the edge. I scream as the orgasm tears through me, my body convulsing against them as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. Slick gushes out in heavy, desperate waves, soaking everything beneath us as my inner walls clench and flutter around the emptiness that still aches to be filled.

For a moment, the relief is so intense I can't breathe. My body goes limp against Callum's chest, boneless and shaking with the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm I've had in years. Julian's hand gentles against me, soothing instead of stimulating, while Callum's arms come around my back to hold me steady.

"Good girl," Julian whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. "You're safe... we've got you... we're right here."

The praise makes me melt even further into their touch, but as the immediate pleasure fades, the deeper ache remains. If anything, it's worse now. The emptiness burning deeper, a void my biology demands be filled by knot and claiming and the kind of completion that orgasms from fingers can't provide.

"It's not enough," I whimper against Callum's neck, fresh tears starting as the need builds again. "Still hurts... still empty..."

"I'm afraid I'll..." Callum's voice is rough with strain, his hand stroking through my hair. "Afraid I'll bite you. Claim you before you're ready. My control's hanging by a thread, sweetheart."

The honesty in his admission makes my chest tight with emotion even through the heat-haze. He wants me so badly he's afraid of taking more than I'm ready to give.

"Julian," he says quietly, his eyes finding the other alpha. "You need to... I can't trust myself right now."

He's interrupted by the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs, heavy boots taking them two at a time. The bedroom door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and Dean fills the frame like something out of my most desperate fantasies.

His broad shoulders heave with exertion, firefighter uniform half-unzipped from running, dark hair disheveled like he's been pulling at it. But it's his scent that hits me like lightning—toasted marshmallow and campfire warmth slamming into the room with enough force to make my head spin.

My body's response is immediate and violent. I clench so hard it's almost painful, fresh slick flooding out as my heat ratchets up another impossible notch. I arch involuntarily against Callum's chest, a strangled cry tearing from my throat.

"Dean..."

His name comes out like a prayer, like a plea, like everything I need wrapped up in four letters. He takes in the scene, me half-naked and trembling between Julian and Callum, the air thick with the scent of heat and slick and desperate want and something primal flashes across his face.

"Damn," he breathes, his voice rough with shock and arousal. "Lila, baby, are you?—"

"Need you," I interrupt, reaching out toward him with a shaking hand. "Need all of you. Please, Dean, I can't... it hurts so much and I need..."

My voice breaks on the words, but I can see understanding dawn in his eyes. Not just that I'm in heat, but that I'm choosing this. Choosing them. All of them.

The look that passes between the three men over my head is loaded with meaning I'm too heat-addled to fully parse. Some kind of silent communication, a decision being made without words. But whatever they're agreeing to, I can smell the changein their scents—sharper now, more focused, tinged with the kind of possessive certainty that makes my omega instincts sing with satisfaction.

"Okay," Dean says simply, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "Okay, baby. We're here."

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