Page 176 of Their Reckless Thief
Luca remained in the shadows, his dark eyes watching intently. He didn’t move to join us, his presence commanding even in stillness. His shadows, however, had no such restraint. They crept toward me, tendrils of darkness teasing over my skin before homing in on their targets. One curled around my clit, pulsing and sucking in perfect rhythm with Vincenzo’s thrusts. Another teased the sensitive flesh between us, a slick, ghostly sensation that made me shudder.
And then, a lone shadow slipped inside my ass, the pressure and warmth driving me to the edge. I cried out around Dorian’s cock, trembling with the onslaught of sensations.
“Gods, Celeste,” he groaned, his voice like gravel as he tilted his head back, his jaw clenched tight.
The pleasure was overwhelming. Vincenzo guided me, pulling me down harder with every thrust as Dorian gripped the back of my head, burying himself deep into my throat. The rhythm of Luca’s shadows pushed me over the edge, Dorian’s cock muffling my cries as I convulsed in a blinding orgasm.
Dorian came with a guttural moan, filling my mouth. I eagerly swallowed him down, swirling my tongue over his head. Moments later, Vincenzo grunted, his grip on my hips bruising as he thrust one final time and spilled into me.
Spent, Dorian stepped back, and Vincenzo let me collapse against his chest. For a moment, the room was silent save for the sound of our heavy breaths.
But I wasn’t done. Not yet. My gaze found Luca’s, and with shaky legs, I climbed off Vincenzo and made my way to where Luca sat in the corner, his cock still hard and waiting. I straddled him, sinking onto his lap, his arms wrapping tightly around me as I buried my face in the crook of his neck.
“You’ve been so patient,” I murmured, grinding against him.
His hands gripped my waist, holding me steady as the other two men approached, their gazes dark and satisfied.
“She’s so perfect like this,” Dorian murmured, his hand brushing over my back.
Vincenzo crouched beside us, his lips brushing against my ear. “Let’s make her come one more time, Luca. Help her fall apart for us.”
Their words, their touch, sent fire coursing through my veins. They whispered to me, praising me, telling me how beautiful I looked, how much they needed to see me shatter again. Luca’s hips bucked beneath me as I moved, the friction sending both of us spiraling closer.
“Good girl,” he growled into my ear. “Come with me, Celeste. Let go.”
His words sent me over the edge. My body tensed, my climax pulsing through me as I cried out his name, the sound raw and unrestrained. Luca followed moments later, his release flooding me as he buried his face in my shoulder.
The three of them held me as I came down, their touches grounding me, their voices soothing. I belonged to them, and they to me, in every way that mattered.
EPILOGUE
CELESTE
The early morninglight filtered through the towering windows of our Manhattan apartment, bathing the space in a golden glow. The hum of the city below was faint, a distant reminder of the vibrant chaos that awaited outside. Nestled in the heart of the city, this place had quickly become a second home to all of us. It was sleek, modern, and full of life, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the skyline that stretched endlessly.
I sank back against the pillows on the king-sized bed, savoring the serenity. My life was now a mosaic of moments like this, filled with freedom, purpose, and connection. The weight I’d once carried—fear, survival, and the clawing need for Phantomine—had lifted, and now I only carried a quiet strength that felt as natural as breathing.
Vivian and I had shared a bittersweet goodbye a month ago. She’d decided to return to the human realm, setting up shop in Newark with Will. Thanks to Vincenzo’s generosity, they now lived in a bright, spacious two-bedroom apartment. Vivian had proudly shown me her new setup the last time I’d visited—state-of-the-art servers, encrypted systems, and gadgets that even I hadn’t dreamed of.
Will was thriving, too. He’d taken on a mentorship role at a local community center, teaching coding and tech skills to kids who reminded him of himself—scrappy, smart, and in need of a break. He gave extra attention to strays like himself, who couldn’t quite find their footing in either world. Together, they’d created a new chapter for themselves, one free of Roberto’s shadow. Seeing them happy made my chest ache in the best way.
Here in Manhattan, my life had found its own rhythm. We still stayed at the mansion in The Below whenever we were there, but this apartment was different. It was ours, a sanctuary away from the politics and dangers of the supernatural underworld. It had been Vincenzo’s idea, a gift that Dorian and Luca had quickly embraced. “A place for us to breathe,” Vincenzo had said, his voice gruff but sincere.
The apartment was a blend of modern luxury and personal touches. A sleek open kitchen flowed into the living room, where Luca’s books lined a custom-built shelf, and Dorian’s guitar rested against the wall near the plush leather couch. A painting I’d found in a tiny gallery downtown hung above the fireplace. The vivid depiction of a phoenix rising from the ashes seemed fitting with how my life had turned.
The bedroom I currently lounged in was ours, too, and I rarely woke up alone. Our lives were intertwined in ways that defied convention, and I’d stopped questioning the dynamics long ago. They treated me like a queen, building me up into someone I barely recognized—someone strong, fearless, and undeniably worthy of love.
It wasn’t just love that drove me. I had purpose. The rehabilitation program Vincenzo had entrusted me with was thriving. We’d started in The Below, reaching out to women who had been victims of The Shadow’s schemes, but the mission had grown. With Vincenzo’s resources and my vision, we were expanding our reach, establishing safe houses in the humanworld for women who had escaped the grip of addiction and exploitation.
It wasn’t enough, though. Not yet.
On the days when I visited Newark, I’d walk past the orphanages and group homes, and something inside me stirred. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kids who had no one to look out for them, who fell through the cracks just as I might have if not for Vivian. The idea had started as a whisper, a flicker of an impossible dream. But now, it was taking shape.
One day, I would open a center. A sanctuary for children who needed a fresh start, a place to belong. Dorian teased me about it, calling me “Saint Celeste” but I could see the pride in his eyes whenever I spoke about it.
The soft sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to see Dorian entering the room. He was shirtless, his hair tousled from sleep, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
“Morning, love,” he said, dropping onto the bed beside me. “You look deep in thought. Should I be worried?”
