She nods.
Knox pulls out. Her body clenches, confused, aching. Then I lower the knife, her eyes snap wide.
“Dante!” she yelps, clenching her thighs.
But Knox is there, between her legs, holding her open.
I press the handle of the blade to her entrance, slow.
She gasps, chest rising.
“Eyes on us, pet,” Knox orders, and she obeys, barely hanging on.
Max and Ryker step in again. Ryker sucks one of her nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling. Max takes the other side, biting just hard enough to make her cry out.
“You’re being such a good girl,” Knox groans, his thumb circling her clit.
And I fuck her, gently, with the handle of my knife.
“I’m going to pass out!” she gasps.
I lean in, palm cradling her sweat-slick cheek, thumb brushing beneath her trembling eye. “You want us to stop, doll?”
Her lashes flutter. Then her gaze snaps to mine, burning. “No.”
That’s all I need.
I press the handle deeper, watching the stretch, the way her body opens and tightens around the cold steel like it’s mine. Max and Ryker are on her breasts, mouths wet and greedy, leaving marks she won’t hide tomorrow. Knox doesn’t flinch, doesn’t speed up; he just circles her clit with that same slow, unrelenting pressure, precise as a blade to the throat.
She shakes, her whole body arching in this beautiful, reckless surrender, moaning so softly at first, then louder, like she’s trying to drown in it.
Her head drops forward. Her breath stutters. She’s so fucking close.
“You, Aspen…” I whisper, my mouth right at her ear as her lashes flutter and her body tenses around the blade. “You’re ours. Every goddamn piece of you. No one else gets this.”
Not her body.
Not her moans.
Not her blood.
Not her soul.
Onlyus.
Her mouth opens like she’s trying to speak some fractured version of “Oh my fucking—,”but the orgasm tears it from her throat before she can finish.
She doesn’t get the words out.
She just screams, loud, wild, broken, and we catch her as her body hangs.
Ryker grabs her head, holding it gently as it lolls. His smile is slowand smug, brushing his lips against her temple. “She did pass out.”
We all smile.
Knox pulls his jeans back up, and I hold her steady while Max unbuckles the belts around her wrists. Her arms are bruised but no cuts. Her body sags completely in my hold, limp and used, and I carry her to the bedroom.
I lay her on the mattress. Her eyes flutter open, her breathing finally slowing.
