He drapes his cock across my lips, and I instinctively open my mouth. He pushes in, just a little, and the taste is musky and hot. I wrap my tongue around the head, flicking at the slit, and he moans, the sound almost a growl.
“You are shy, but you must learn to please your alphas,” he says, voice thick. “There are five of us, and you are made to serve us all.”
I suck him deeper, my mouth stretching to fit the girth. My jaw aches, but I want to impress him, want to make him proud. I bob my head, licking and sucking, and he pets my hair, praising me in Italian.
“Good girl,” he praises, his fingers threading through my hair. “Now a little deeper. Use your tongue.”
With renewed confidence, I take more of him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head as I do. His encouraging moans guide me, letting me know when I’ve done something he particularly likes.
After a few minutes, he pulls out of my mouth, a string ofsaliva connecting us briefly before breaking. “Now lick my balls,” he commands. “They need attention too.”
I lower my head, uncertain but eager to please.
His sack is heavy and warm against my tongue as I explore the new territory. I nibble gently, then take one side into my mouth, sucking softly as he’d done with my clit. The texture is fascinating, wrinkled skin stretched over firm roundness, sparse hair tickling my nose.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he gasps. “You’re a natural.”
Pride swells in my chest at his praise, spurring me to continue with more enthusiasm. I alternate between his balls and his shaft, licking and sucking anywhere I can reach.
Finally, he guides his cock back to my mouth. “Now let me fuck those pretty lips,” he says, voice strained with need.
I open my mouth wide, allowing him to slide back in. This time, he takes control, hips moving in shallow thrusts as he feeds his length into my mouth. I struggle not to gag as he hits the back of my throat, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “Breathe through your nose. That’s it.”
His movements become more urgent, his breathing ragged. I can tell he’s close, his cock swelling even larger in my mouth. Part of me wonders if I should pull away, but before I can decide, he’s groaning my name, his cock pulsing as hot, salty liquid floods my mouth.
“Swallow,” he commands, holding himself deep. “Take all of it.”
I obey, gulping down his release, surprised by how much there is. Some escapes the corners of my mouth, running down my chin, but I manage to swallow most of it.
When he finally pulls away, he looks down at me with something like awe.
“You did perfectly,” he says, using his thumb to wipe away the traces of his cum from my lips. “Such a good omega.”
“Umm, I’m glad I did okay for my first time,” I whisper in the dark, and he chuckles softly.
He slips off the bed, pulling his pants back up. He bends down and places one last lingering kiss directly on my pussy. It’s oddly tender, almost reverential.
“Sweet dreams,” he whispers against my flesh before straightening. When he leaves the room, the spell he has over me breaks slowly.
What have I just done?
I lie there, dazed, pussy throbbing and leaking, mouth tingling, heart pounding. I know I should feel ashamed, but all I feel is sated and happy. For the first time since I arrived, I don’t want to run away.
I pull the covers over my head, close my eyes, and drift back to sleep, dreaming of lips on my skin and hands in my hair and the taste of Lorenzo’s cum on my tongue.
Tomorrow, I’ll figure out my escape plan.
Tonight, I just want to remember how it felt to be an omega.
Eight
ALARIC
As I sip my Earl Grey tea, I watch Lorenzo scribbling in his leather-bound notebook across the living room. His lips curve into a satisfied smile as his pen glides across the page, and I can’t help but wonder what’s put him in such a good mood this morning. The home is quiet except for the scratch of his pen and the occasional twitter of tropical birds outside the massive windows. I stretch my legs out on the plush leather sofa, studying him over the rim of my teacup, curiosity burning inside me until I can’t hold it back any longer.
“What’s got you so fucking cheerful this morning?” I ask, setting my cup down on the glass coffee table.
