Page 118 of Bitter Truths

Tristan’s fingers trail up my inner thigh. “Poor little thing,” he murmurs. His touch feels like fire against my oversensitive skin.

I whimper as his fingers slide through my folds, exploring the aftermath of my pleasure. My body twitches involuntarily, overstimulated and raw.

“Look at the mess you and Owen made,” he continues, holding up his glistening fingers for all to see.

“You gave away what was ours,” Tristan’s voice hardens as his fingers return to my sensitive flesh, circling my entrance without penetrating. “Our little omega… our everything… spreading these pretty thighs for someone else when they were made for us.”

My head lolls against his shoulder. I’m too drained to respond. His fingers press inside me without warning, drawing a weak moan from my lips.

“So responsive,” he praises darkly. “Even after all those orgasms, your greedy little cunt knows who it belongs to.”

Owen rises from his knees, and he moves closer, leaning over me. Before I can process what’s happening, his mouth claims mine in a brutal kiss. I taste myself on his tongue, the evidence of my pleasure mingling with what is purely Owen.

His kiss is possessive, demanding, his tongue invading my mouth the way his fingers invaded my body a few minutes ago. “That’s what ours tastes like,” he growls against my lips.

I can only whimper in response. My mind feels like cotton, soft and warm.

Freddie watches as Tristan’s fingers work inside me.

“Fucking beautiful,” Owen’s thumb tracing my swollen bottom lip.

Tristan’s fingers curl inside me to find that spot that makes my back arch despite my current state of ruin.

“I can’t,” I protest weakly.

“Shhh,” Tristan’s voice drops to a seductive purr. “Just one more, and then we’ll let you rest.”

His fingers work gently, thumb circling my oversensitive clit. The stimulation borders on painful, too much after everything my body has already endured, but somehow the pain circles back around to another orgasm.

“That’s it,” he coaxes as my breathing quickens involuntarily. “Good girl, Bianca.”

I don’t have the energy to fight it, so I just accept it.

“Look at me,” Owen demands, tilting my chin up. His eyes capture mine, holding me prisoner as Tristan’s fingers drive me toward another peak. “You’re ours… don’t forget it again.”

The last orgasm is gentler than the others but no less consuming. My body trembles with aftershocks, tears streaming down my face as I cling to Tristan’s arm.

“That’s it,” he whispers into my ear, his voice dark honey. “You were made to take everything we can give you. Made to come for us. Over and over until you can’t remember anyone else who’s ever touched you.”

I can’t form words, can only manage a weak nod as my eyes grow heavy. My body feels weightless, like it’s floating in the ocean. The alphas’ scents surround me, wrapping me in a cocoon of safety, warmth, and utter possession.

“She’s fading,” Freddie observes softly as he strokes my hair.

“She’s exquisite,” I hear Weller say from somewhere. “Let her rest… she’s earned it.”

Tristan’s arms tighten around me, protectively. “Sleep, little bee,” his tone surprisingly tender. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

The promise in those words follows me down into darkness as consciousness slips away.

22

OWEN

I can’t stop fucking staring at her.

Bianca sleeps against Tristan’s chest, her face so sweet and innocent, breathing slow and deep. The blue dress barely covers her, and our marks show on her skin.

This is the way it was always meant to be.