A sound somewhere between a moan and a groan sounds beside us. “Seriously? I’m right here,” Jake whines, already stroking his cock if the sound of flesh on flesh means anything. I reach out a hand, wrapping around his shaft and pumping, taking over his pleasure. He curses, but lets me.
“Fuck, Mav, I’m not gonna last,” Deacon warns. His shaft grows thicker in my mouth and his knot swells as more precum lands on my tongue. I suck, hard, swallowing around the head of his cock when he thrusts deep. My free hand goes to his knot, squeezing it, and that sends him over the edge. He shoves my head down until my nose is buried in the trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his cock, hot cum spurting down my throat. I try to drink it all, but some escapes out of my lips and down my chin.
“Ah, shit!” Jake curses as his hips shunt forward, his orgasm hitting him, cum spreading over my hand and puddling in the soft grass below us.
When I finally pull off Deacon’s cock, we’re all heaving in breaths like we just ran a marathon. Jake eyes the wet spot on the front of my shorts knowingly. I reach down and adjust my spent dick shamelessly. The whole experience combined with that amazing Bomb Pop scent made me come in my pants. I’d say it’s a new experience, but that would be a lie. Sometimes my orgasm is on a hair trigger, and I’m not embarrassed by it.
I get off on getting people off. So sue me.
My eyes connect with my packmates as we come down from our highs, and one thing becomes startlingly clear.
“We have to find her.”
6
The eggs are definitely overcooking as I mindlessly push them around in the pan with the spatula hanging limply from my fingers. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway. Not for eggs at least.
My thoughts keep replaying the scene I shamefully watched like a peeping Tom last night. I heard noise from next door and my omega took control. Watching them get each other off was one of the hottest experiences of my life. I hid in the shadows, touching myself while they were none-the-wiser, lost in their own pleasure.
I’m blaming my actions on the horny bitch inside me and the scent match.
I know nothing about these alphas, but I want them anyway. Watching them come together so effortlessly last night—no pun intended—made me think there was more to the trio than I originally pegged them for.
Speaking of pegging…No! Bad omega.
Then again, they’re built for me right? To be my perfect matches? So maybe they’ll be into my particular…proclivities. Most men get all squirmy when I mention it. Prudes.
A burning scent breaks into my daydream and I slide the pan off the eye of the stove, leaving it to cool before I try to scrape out the waste of eggs piled inside. Whoops.
Now that I know my scent matches are right next door, I need to decide what to do about it. I’ve always been fiercely independent, even before I presented as an omega. I haven’t trusted a male partner in the past enough to fully submit outside of my heat, especially not an alpha. Most alphas are intimated by me, and I refuse to make myself smaller to fit in their rigid box of what they deem a proper omega to be. Fuck that.
But these alphas, even the cocky-looking one who was driving, gave up control to me so easily. It was refreshing.
In a society where omegas are often given so little control, it’s not a wonder that I crave it. During my heat is another story altogether. The slutty little omega who drives me turns into a mewling, begging, whimpering pile of need. Usually I ride it out alone with a shit-ton of toys, or check into a clinic where pre-screened alphas can ease me, without the risk of accidental bonding bites.
But what would it be like to freely submit during my heat to alphas I could trust? Would I beg for bites? Would I let them sink their teeth in me, claiming me forever?
Thoughts of my heat remind me that it’s coming soon. Like, within the next few days, soon. That’s probably why I so easily caved to voyeurism last night. I was planning on a solo-adventure for this one, but maybe it can be a group project.
Making a decision, I head back into my bedroom to change into the skimpiest bikini I own. The alphas’ boat is still docked, so I know they must be home. Let’s see if I can tempt them out of their cave.
7
“Deacon! Come here! You gotta see this.”
Maverick’s shout is muffled through the bedroom door, though I can still make out what he’s saying. The bastard’s loud AF when he wants to be. My body aches as I climb out of bed. After last night’s impromptu exhibitionist session, we came back inside and fell into each other again. And again. Andagainuntil we passed out just before the sun came up. My legs hurt. My ass hurts. My jaw hurts.
I wanna do it all over again tonight.
I trudge to the front room of the rental, where my packmate is staring out of the huge bay window. “Whatttt?” I grumble.
He grabs my bicep and yanks me in front of him, pressing his back against me and pointing. His dick is hard, and I’m tempted to push back against him but he nearly barks at me to look first. And oh my gods. I see why he’s fucking hard now.
Out on the pier is a hot little number in a barely there bikini, bent over what looks like a cooler. Not that I give a shit what she’s messing with when her round, peachy ass is looking very biteable on display like that. She stretches into her bend further, and I have to reach down to adjust my dick before it peeks out of my boxers.
Jake stumbles out of the bathroom and makes his way over to us. “What the hell are you all yelling abo—oh sweet baby Jesus.”
“Uh huh,” Mav mumbles, his eyes never leaving the bombshell teasing us. I’m frozen in place until the woman slowly rolls her spine up and a swath of red hair falls over her nearly-bare back. The vixen looks back over her shoulder, throwing us a wink before she turns and heads back to the house next door.
