Page 157 of Shattered Jewel

I’ll carve into my future with ruthless precision, but at her altar, I’ll always kneel in devotion.

“I’m ... I’m...” she gasps out a warning before going over the edge.

Her release triggers ours and we are lost, my cock emptying into her in powerful spurts, Wilder’s groan tearing from his throat as he buries himself fully, his own climax pulsing through her.

When our breathing slows and our heart rates return to normal, Wilder pulls out, leaving Elara to collapse against me. My butterfly is exhausted, but she’s wearing such a sated expression that I can’t help but smile, brushing a strand of hair off her sweaty forehead. When I also pull out slowly, she winces a little at the sudden emptiness, but doesn’t complain.

Elara sighs deeply, sinking into my chest while she reaches for Wilder. He moves closer and wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a tight hug from behind.

We sit there in silence for a while, lost in each other’s company. Bound together in a way we never thought possible, while the darkness outside starts to fade into first light.

Chapter 38

Elara

THE JEWEL

The aftershocks of pleasure still ripple through me as I sink into Cav’s warm, lacerated chest. My body bears the imprint of Wilder, Cav, Axe and Kaspian’s touch, a map of sensations I’m still learning to navigate. Even as I catch my breath, it feels like a dream—a dark, twisted fantasy that I never knew I wanted until it happened.

“Quite a sight to behold,” Kaspian drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he saunters into the room. His gaze flicks over the three of us, a wicked grin on his lips. “I must say, I’m almost disappointed we missed the main event.”

Axe follows close behind, rolling his shoulders as he walks. The atmosphere in the room shifts with the arrival of Kaspian’s silky menace and Axe’s lethal quiet, but not in the way many would think.

They complete my home.

Cav shifts underneath me, propping up on one elbow to regard Kaspian coolly. “It’s not our fault you were late.”

I move to cover myself, a sudden surge of self-consciousness washing over me even as I ache from letting these guys do whatever they wanted while I got off each time. But Cav’s arm tightens around me, reminding me that I’m all of theirs, now, and have been for a while.

Only Wilder remains still, his eyes closed and unfazed by their entrance while he reclines on the fainting couch.

Axe moves deeper into the room, bypassing Cav and me to settle down next to Wilder. His bulky height dwarfs the other man’s lean shape, but their connection is undeniable, a bond formed from years of brotherhood.

“Do you need them to draw you a picture?” Axe’s baritone rumbles the question to Kaspian, but his steel gray eyes don’t waver from mine, forcing my heart into a wild gallop.

Kaspian eyes me sidelong with a suspicious quirk at the corner of his mouth. “The show may be over, but encores are never off the table.”

A blush burns my cheeks, but I don’t shrink back from his statement. I am no innocent dove to be coddled and protected—not anymore—and these four men have made sure of that.

As different as they are, each man resonates with a purpose, an unspoken oath to protect me and what we share.

It feels like I’ve become their hallowed ground, and they’re the devils I let dance on it.

And then, just when I sense their collective need to pounce on me again, the sound of bare feet padding on the floors heralds Sasha’s arrival.

She appears in the doorway, a tub of ice cream clutched in her hands and her soft curls all frizzed out like she’d stuck her finger in a socket.

“Oh, my sweet baby Jesus,” she says, the whites of her eyes obvious as she takes in the sight before her. “I go away for a few hours to drown my sorrows in mint chocolate chip and I return to find...” She pauses, her gaze sweeping over the room. “Well, it looks like some sort of sinful Renaissance painting.”

Her faux-scandalized tone has Cav breaking into laughter, his chest shaking beneath me. Wilder cracks an eye open to regard our intruder with lazy amusement before closing it again.

Sasha sidles closer, arranging herself onto one of the plush armchairs as if she’s settling in for a movie.

“I think I’m going to need more ice cream,” she mutters, staring hard at what’s left of her pint.

Kaspian counters with a sly grin. “Ice cream won’t be enough to erase this image from your mind.”

“And yet,” she shoots back, “It’s a scene that keeps entering my reality.”