Page 78 of Storm of Stars
Briar was working me, touching me in ways I had no idea I could be touched. I felt my body clenching her fingers, desperate for her. The pressure in my lower stomach built and built, becoming almost painfully full as she fucked me.
“Briar,” I cried out. “Stop.. I’m… Oh my God,” I mumbled, pressing my face down into the blankets, but she didn’t stop. In fact she pressed further, harder. Her fingers reached directly tothe source of the building climax and practically ripped it from me.
As the climax hit me, I felt wetness spill from me in a tidal wave, and with each convulsion of my body, more wetness came too.
Briar’s fingers stilled within me. And when I finally found my breath again, and my mind cleared from the pure and utter bliss of that full body orgasm, I glanced up to find my other Wildguard watching me with open mouths.
Embarrassment flooded me instantly, and I tried to sit up. But Briar leaned over my back and pressed a kiss to my cheek, then my neck, then my shoulder blade.
“Holy shit,” Ezra whispered.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Brexlyn,” Zaffir replied, his more dominant energy had slipped away.
“Damn, Briar,” Thorne said with a low whistle. “How’d you do that?”
Briar pressed another kiss to my cheek. “I just understand women,” she said and I could feel her smirk against my skin.
“I bet I can do that too,” Thorne said moving toward me, but Zaffir put a hand on his shoulder and kept him back.
“Let our girl catch her breath, Thorne,” he said, and I sent him a smile I hoped he could read as a thank you.
My body was spent and tired and as good as I felt, I knew I needed a moment to recover from the pleasure they’d just given me.
“Take the time you need, love,” Thorne said, smiling at me.
“Yes, Brexlyn. Take a few minutes to breathe and recover. Because by my count…” His eyes darkened. “You still owe us four orgasms tonight. And I plan to collect.”
I smiled up at him, at all of them, my Wildguard. My heart. My impossible, beautiful miracle. Because in that moment, surrounded by their warmth, their hands, their eyes that saw allof me and loved me anyway, I knew with aching certainty that if this was our last night, if fate had already written the end, we would meet it like this. Together.
No regrets. No fear. Just us, in the quiet dark, choosing one another with everything we had left.
If I never got another sunrise, another kiss, another breath in their arms… this would be enough.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Zaffir
I woke up with my back screaming and every muscle aching like I’d just sprinted through a battlefield barefoot. Which, in a way, we sort of had, only the battle had taken place in a cocoon of blankets, whispered promises, and desperate hands. And if I felt like this, I couldn’t even begin to imagine how Brexlyn was holding up. By the time we’d drifted to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, we’d gotten our ten orgasms from her.
My mind drifted to our girl, and how beautifully, fiercely she had taken all of us. The way her body moved with each of ours, like she'd been made for us, for this. She gave herself to us like she knew it might be the last time, and we met her with everything we had.
I shifted slightly and glanced over.
She was fast asleep, tucked into Ezra’s side, her head resting in the crook of his arm. My own body was curved around him from the other side, the three of us locked together like puzzle pieces. Briar was curled around Brexlyn’s back, one hand still resting over her heart like she’d been keeping watch even in sleep. And down at the foot of the bedrolls, Thorne had somehow wedged himself between her legs, his head pillowedon her stomach, one arm thrown across her hip like he couldn’t bear to let her go.
My chest swelled, painfully, sweetly, with a thudding heartbeat I couldn’t ignore. I loved them. I loved Brexlyn with every fractured, stubborn piece of my soul. I loved Ezra, too, maybe differently, maybe quietly, but just as deeply. And Briar and Thorne… they were the kind of people who showed you what it meant to be loved with their actions.
What I felt when I looked at them wasn’t the same kind of love, but it was real. It was family.
Carefully, I untangled myself from the pile of limbs and warmth, trying not to wake anyone. I slipped a shirt over my bare chest, someone’s shirt, I didn’t know whose, and padded quietly toward the tent’s flap. My joints cracked in protest, but I welcomed the soreness. It was proof that last night had been real. That we’d carved out something good, something ours, before we ventured forth into the unknown.
We probably shouldn’t have worn ourselves out like that with what was coming. But I didn’t regret a second of it. We needed that night. We needed her.
And more than anything, we needed the reminder that we’re still alive.
Today isn’t promised. None of this is.
