I glance at James, who looks pointedly at Zeke. Searching for his eyes, I see a smile twitch over his mouth as I make eye contact with him.
"Shhhh, Omega. It's okay. You never have to be afraid to let us know what you need."
She buries her face in my chest and sighs. I stroke her back, my arms wrapping around her tiny frame. "Can Zeke help me give you what you need? While James makes sure we look after you properly?"
Zeke flushes, his normally sombre face breaking into a grin. James raises an eyebrow at me. She lifts her head to look in my direction, a small smile on her lips, and nods again.
"Yes," she says, her voice clearer.
She turns away from me towards Zeke and James. I can't see her expression. But judging from the way they scramble up the bed towards us, it must have said more than words ever could.
Chapter 14
A rivulet of arousal trickles down my thigh onto Seb's lap. Zeke's eyes flick across us, glinting with excitement and hunger.
I turn and straddle Seb, his brown loose curls grazing my cheeks, nudging his nose with mine as I rub myself against him, smiling as I feel his erection thicken below me. I'm bare under Allen's shirt, and growing wetter by the moment as I hear the impatient shuffling of James and Zeke approaching from behind. A sensible omega would probably be terrified by the sound of two enormous alphas approaching from behind her with their intent writ large on the air around her, but the only thing I can feel, besides lust and desire, is… rightness. Things just… being as they should be.
Seb gathers my hair in his hands, and pulls it back, dropping it behind my shoulders. The tenderness of the motion makes something inside me bloom. I drop my forehead to Seb's shoulder as my hips cant on their own against his lap. I feel his cock swell under me. My omega is going nuts at the thought, making my heart pound in my chest and my core burn with want.
I haven't even felt the telltale cramp of a heat spike, yet I'm so close to losing control—I only stopped my suppressants this morning. Well, yesterday morning by now, technically.
This shouldn't be happening yet.
I shouldn't want this so much.
Leaning into Seb, I press my lips against his. They are softer, more tender than I expected. Petrichor, mixed with gentle male muskiness, washes across my tongue, along with the faint aftertaste of fresh herbs and lavender. The scent and flavour burrow inside me, tugging and pulling and making me want something more than just this moment, something I'm scared to put into words. I moan into his mouth, deepening the kiss.
A broad, calloused palm rests on my shoulder. Soft, soothing lavender whirls around me. "What are your six words, darling?" Zeke murmurs.
My nerves are twanging as I pull my lips from his, and lean my head against his chest. "Yes. No. Stop. Less. Good. More." I can barely pant out the words.
"Good girl," murmurs James. His words trigger something in my core. A fresh burst of slick drenches Seb's lap, and freesias bloom through the room.
Seb chuckles, his deep laugh resonating through my body. "Do you like being a good girl, Balga?"
My head snaps up. I can't look him in the eye as shame floods my cheeks. My body freezes.
I blink as I force myself to breathe.
It's not being recorded.
I'm safe.
James seems to growl behind me. Seb wraps me in another hug, his gold-brown hair flopping over my shoulders, as both he and Zeke stroke down my back with soothing hands.
"Hey, shhh, I'm sorry," Seb murmurs. "Nothing to feel bad about, Dellie. None of us will judge you or think badly of you. You're such a brave girl for being honest about what you like. I think—" he glances around, then looks back at me "—we all think you should always have what you like. And if you likebeing a good girl is one of the things you like, then we like that you like it."
Warm arms pull me tighter against Seb's chest as his lips press into my ear. "When I get nervous, I joke. Sometimes it misfires. I got it wrong just then. I'm sorry." His low murmur is tight.
I pull away from him. As soon as he feels me move, his arms drop slack against his sides. His stubble rasps against my palms as I cup his face in my hands. Lines of worry pull his eyebrows down.
He looks… scared.
I'm safe.
They're safe people.
And… I somehow believe what I'm telling myself. Something inside me trusts them, although rationally I know there is no reason why I should—yet it does. I nod, perhaps more curtly than I mean to.
