Marked By The Four
The mattress squealed under her as we laid her down, our shadows looming over her.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, wild hair spilling over flushed cheeks, lips kiss-swollen. “Don’t-”
“Oh, we will,” I cut in, my wolf’s growl lacing every word.
Four sets of hands worked her over, fast and slow all at once - shirt tugged up, jeans peeled away, until she lay there in nothing but her bra and panties.
We froze. Just a second. To look. To breathe her in.
“Fuck,” Jaxon whispered, eyes blazing. “She’s perfect.”
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