Page 147 of Coco and the Misfits

Whatever they want to give me, however they want to do this, I’m game.

Oh, I’m so game.

Anything for them. Anything to have them, be with them.

Grinning widely, I enter the lobby and walk past the concierge desk, nodding at Bridget.

“Hi, Coco,” she says with a smile. “Mr. Ford is expecting you.”

“I know,” I quip and enter the elevator with a softer smile on my face. Bridget turned out okay. She’s protective of Atticus, maybe a bit too much, but since our pack got together, she never got in our way.

I’m just glad Atticus never slept with her. It would have made things weird.

Stepping out of the elevator, I use the key card Atticus gave me to open the door. It swings inward and I step inside, hanging my small backpack with some bare necessities for the night—haven’t had the time to properly pack my stuff yet—on the rack together with my light jacket.

“Guys!” I step into the living area, my breath catching as usual at the sight of the city phosphorescing outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

But then I notice the scent of flowers and wrench my gaze away to take in the space I used to clean and dance around in back when I worked for Atticus.

My breath catches. The apartment is filled with flowers and lit candles. Pink flowers. White candles.

I smile, walking to the kitchen island that’s covered in roses. “Where are you guys? Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“In here!” a male voice calls from the depths of the apartment. Intrigued, running my fingertips over the soft petals of the roses, I trudge out of the living room in search of my wayward alphas.

“Guys! What are you playing at? Where are you?”

“In here! Second door to the right!”

Following the deep voice—Atticus, I think—I push the specified door open and stop in my tracks.

It’s the master bedroom. I recognize it now, although it’s changed. I mean, the three of them are sitting on a gigantic bed and my first thought is, oh, the extra-large bed arrived sooner than I thought!

That’s a lie, obviously. My first thought is, Whoa, look at them! They are so hot I’m burning.

Gloriously naked.

Obviously waiting for me.

On a bed filled with little cushions. Like a nest.

Okay, so my attention is a little divided. Between the small cushions and the thought of a nest and those large, hard cocks pointing at me like loaded guns, how am I supposed to think?

I lift my hands. “I surrender. Don’t shoot.”

Zach cracks up, and that wide, dimpled grin is melting my insides. He grabs his cock and pretends to, well, cock his gun. “Come here, then, if you want to live.”

Letting my hands drop, I walk to the bed and make a show of taking them in. Okay, maybe it’s not really a show. I mean, look at them!

Zach, with the phoenix tattoo Ryder gave him inked over his hard pecs. He’s still holding the long rod of his cock, his knot swollen and purple, making me wonder if he found any relief in this past week when pleasuring me had been their only goal, foregoing their own releases.

Ryder covered in inked memories and attitude, kneeling, the many piercings in his cock glinting.

Atticus, one brow lifted, his powerful muscles relaxed, his smile soft.

But then I realize… that all three of them sport knots tonight.

“What…?” I gulp. “Are you going to knot me? How did this happen?”

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