Page 180 of My Unhinged Alphas
“Fuck,” Havoc mutters behind me. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t.
I jerk Vale off while Havoc rails me and Knox keeps me right on the edge with his thumb circling my clit, all of them focused on me so completely I feel delirious with it. Every time I cry out, somebody answers. Every time I shake, another hand comes to hold me steady. There is nowhere in my body not claimed by attention.
It is obscene.
It is perfect.
Havoc’s grip on my hips gets tighter. “You like being used like this?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
Knox leans in close enough that I feel his breath against my ear. “Use your words properly.”
I can barely think. “I like it. I like all of it.”
Havoc laughs, low and filthy. “Good girl.”
Vale’s mouth leaves my breast just long enough for him to say, voice wrecked, “Again.”
I look down at him, still stroking his cock, and something in his face makes heat roll through me. I break all at once.
My whole body locks and then trembles hard, orgasm tearing through me while Knox keeps rubbing me through it and Havoc drives me deeper into the mattress with a few brutal thrusts that make it last and last. I cry out and keep stroking Vale because I can’t seem to stop, and that pushes him over too. He comes with a low groan, spilling hot over my hand and stomach.
Havoc follows a second later, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep and comes hard inside me.
Knox is the only one still controlled, but only just. His hand stays on me, slowing, easing me down from the edge while I shake through the aftershocks and collapse half over Vale’s chest, breathing like I’ve run for miles.
For a few seconds, nobody speaks.
Havoc is still behind me, forehead against my shoulder. Vale is under me, chest rising hard, one hand loose at my waist. Knox’s palm is warm on my thigh, grounding me there.
It feels less like sex in that moment and more like being held at the center of a storm that somehow answered to me.
Sleep comes slowly.
Not because I’m not tired. I’m exhausted. My body feels wrung out, heavy in that boneless way that comes after too much fear and too much pleasure and too many hours without anything steady to hold on to.
But my mind won’t settle all at once. It keeps moving through the day in crooked little circles. Cameras. Contracts. Vale’s face when he came back bruised and trying to act like it was nothing. Knox’s hands, steady even when everything else was coming apart. Havoc’s grin, his voice, the way he can turn something filthy into a joke and then into comfort before I know which one I’m getting.
The room is dark now.
The television is off. The curtains are shut. The motel air hums low in the wall, and somewhere nearby one of them shifts in bed, sheets dragging softly. I’m half under the blanket, warm and loose and on the edge of sleep.
And against all logic, all evidence, all self-preservation, I feel happy.
The thought is so strange I actually open my eyes for a second.
Happy.
Not safe. Definitely not safe.
Not calm either. My life is still a mess. There’s still someone out there who wants me dead badly enough to pay for it. My apartment isn’t mine anymore. My job is hanging by a thread. My past is opening up in ways I never asked for.
And still.
I lie there in the dark and feel that old instinct trying to wake up. The one that says don’t enjoy this too much. Don’t lean into it. Don’t let yourself believe you get to keep anything warm and human and good, because the world notices when you do and comes to collect.
