Brock lifts his trembling hands to my cheeks. “Everything Ryder said is the truth. I’d go nuts without you, baby. I need you by my side. I’ll lose it if you walk away from me now. I will.” He pauses, anger cutting across his expression. “The sick fuck threatened to hurt you. He threatened to . . . kill you. To take you away from me. To never allow me to wake up next to you, holding you, ever again. Never kiss your lips or feel your body against mine. To never build a . . . life with you.” The fear haunting his eyes bleeds me out, my body aching raw from the wave of emotions pouring off his slumped shoulders. “No damn way was I gonna let him do that. I’d die a million times over if something ever happened to you. Especially if it was something I could’ve stopped.”
His words, their words, the sincere remorse behind them, and their silent plea for help sinks me, pain fisting my soul as I try to breathe. Brock blinks, the reflection from a tear slipping down his face blinding me. Beautiful in all its purity, everything that tear represents fills my once-empty heart as I watch it follow the square curve of his jaw and drop onto his bare chest. Staring into the eyes of the man who’s forever changed my life—having painted a rainbow of light onto the darkened canvas of what was my world—my finger soaks up the warmth from his tear, my body instantly flourishing with his love as he returns my stare.
Trembling, I look out the floor-to-ceiling window, the bright lights of the vibrant city below trying to distract me from the ugly presence in the room, the undeniable camaraderie every single human being shares.
Death . . . It’s all around us, its wickedness hovering above our heads.
I try not imagine what they went through, my thoughts running rampant as I turn my attention back to Brock. I touch my lips to his dampened cheek, the overwhelming need to save him and Ryder from the pain they’ve endured—the pain continuing to feast on their mental stabilities—so powerful and unforgiving, it takes everything in me to hold myself together.
“I can’t hear any more of this.” The words drop from my mouth with urgency as I move Ryder’s hands to my midriff, surrendering to what I’ve craved for so long. I slide my lips to Brock’s, my heart letting my body take over. “I don’t want to hear any more. I just . . . I need the both of you right now, and you both need me. We can heal each other from this nightmare. I know we can.”
Brock breaks the kiss and stares into my eyes, his shadowed with uncertainty. “Are you . . . positive? I didn’t say any of that to make you feel like you have to do this, Amber.”
“We don’t want you to feel forced into anything you’re unsure of,” Ryder whispers, his lips pressed warm against my ear.
“I don’t feel guilty or forced,” I say in all honesty, my ache for them growing. “I want this. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” And I haven’t.
Every fiber of who I am—who these men are sure to turn me into—knows this moment is right. They’re right. I capture Brock’s mouth in a desperate kiss, my legs quivering for their touch as I guide Ryder’s hands up under my dress.
“I want you to use my body,” I purr, not an ounce of shame in me. “Use it to escape what happened. Let it be your release from what you had to do to keep us safe. Use it to help you forget everything that happened that night.”
An understanding that we’re about to become one—united through death and tragedy—shifts the air hot, thickening the space between the three of us. Brock looks at me then Ryder, their eyes communicating in a way I’ve never witnessed.
Brock studies Ryder for what seems like forever before taking my face between his hands, his touch gentle as he dips his head, teasing his lips against mine. “You want us to fuck you?” he asks in a low rasp, his gaze glistening to the measure of how turned on he is. I nod, and his lips fully connect with mine, his tongue seeking untapped depths as he groans and hitches my leg around his waist. He drops a hand to my pussy and slips two fingers inside me, deepening the kiss as he works my inner flesh. “Is that what you want, baby girl? Want us to make you feel better? Wipe your mind blank?”
“Yes,” I moan, a flame of desire licking its delicious tongue over my heated skin. “Please.”
Ryder’s fingers slide down my stomach, in between my legs, the soft hum of his heavy breathing dissolving my senses as he rolls my clit between them. “Say it,” Ryder whispers, his fingers joining Brock’s in their delicious onslaught. “Tell us what you want us to do to this sweet pussy.”
“I want you to hurt it,” I say breathily, my hands curled tight around Brock’s shoulders for support. I need them to take their pent-up aggression out on me—every disturbed bit of their torment drenching my mind, battering my body, unleashing their anger and confusion into my soul. Leather dress hiked up over my hips, I dig my nails into Brock’s back, grinding down against their hands as they finger-fuck me ripe. “I want to feel your pain, want you to feel mine. The pain I have for what you had to do. The pain I went through before I ever met the two of you. Hurt me, then heal me. Please. I need it.” I kiss Brock harder. “Take from me what you need, and let me take from the two of you in the same way.”
Lips pressed to the side of my mouth, Brock’s breath dances scalding challenges across my cheek, his groan causing my pulse to quicken.
“Turn around and look at Ryder,” he demands through a whisper.
They remove their fingers from me, tripping them over my clit before Brock releases my leg from his hold. I turn and face Ryder, searing curiosity reaching up from my stomach as he glides his dampened fingers along my lips. Goose bumps rise, chasing after his touch as I wrap my hands around his wrist and pull his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them, inhaling the infusion that makes up the deadly storm that defines me, Brock, and Ryder.