Page 8 of A Murderous Omega

“Perfect,” the other alpha agreed with a growl that sent desire straight to my clit.

“Let me—” I whined as they slapped and nipped at my breasts. The need to see the lies on their faces, to know this was a trick to get me to submit and give in to them, overwhelmed me. “I want to see you,” I ground out between teeth clenched to hold back my moans. When they ignored me, I swallowed my pride. “Please,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

One of them ripped the blindfold off me, revealing icy blue eyes and a shock of bright red hair nestled between my thighs. He looked up at me from where he knelt, desire blowing out his pupils as he devoured me, the noises he made obscene. And so fucking gratifying.

Warm brown eyes surrounded by deep brown skin peered at me to my left, before capturing my nipple in his teeth again. My eyes darted around the room, cataloging the enormous bed, the soft dawn light shining in the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the chains holding me captive.

I inhaled, breathing in their scents, and hated how comforting they were.

“Emile,” the alpha with the bright blue eyes said, his voice rumbly against my clit as he worked me over. “Go get your toys.”

What? No. Were they going to torture me? I shook my head in panic.

“Stop, please. You have to stop. You have to let me go.”

The two alphas stepped away from me, standing silently, nude, their bodies sculpted perfection, cocks jutting out proudly, their knots swollen at the bases. The redhead practically vibrated with restraint, his hands flexing like he fought the urge to grab me. The other one stood utterly still except for a muscle ticking in his jaw, and all I could think about was being the sole focus of that control.

No, wait, come back. Don’t leave me. Please.

I swallowed the words, but they knew anyway.

The redhead’s lips curled up in a smile. “Do you need something, omega?”

“My name is Lark,” I snarled, shocked at how easily the words came, how I didn’t have to hold onto my lucidity with both hands, like I had to when they first captured me.

He trailed a finger down the curve of my breast before tweaking my nipple cruelly. “You can snarl all you want, omega. Right now, you're whatever I say you are—and you're a slut who’s soaked for me.”

I shook my head in denial. “Use my name, you condescending asshole.”

“You might have a mouth on you,” he breathed, “but you’re soaking wet for your alphas, willing to do anything for our touch.”

“I don’t—” The crack of his palm over my sensitive nipple cut off my lie. Pain bloomed into pleasure, making me moan.

“We don’t like liars, Lark,” the other alpha—Emile—said.

“I don’t like asshole alphas who drug and kidnap me,” I snapped back. “But here we are.”

Emile held up an implement that should have scared the shit out of me—a wooden paddle—but somehow, I knew that even if he hurt me, it’d be in service of my pleasure.

How did I know that? Why was I so certain I was safe with this alpha, with both of them?

God, he was gorgeous—all hard lines of carved muscle, with one knee on the bed, his deep brown skin so tempting, I wanted to stick out my tongue and lick him.

He stepped behind me and deep, thudding pain stroked across the backs of my thighs and my ass, over and over, until it turned into delicious pleasure, seeping into my bones. More. I wanted more. More of the pain, more of the pleasure, more of these alphas.

A finger slid through my folds, gathering the slick there. “Fucking hell, Lark. You love this.”

I didn’t. I couldn’t. What was wrong with me? They’d taken away my omega instincts by giving me a suppressant and I still wanted them, still wanted everything they gave me.

When the red-headed alpha slapped my breast, I whined, unable to stop my perfume from flooding the room.

“Conor,” the alpha behind me said, “do that again.”

Conor stood, the brush of his lips over my forehead sending shivers down my spine. He slapped my left breast hard, and my breath rushed out of me, only for the agony to slide through my body and nestle in my core, my clit throbbing in time to my heartbeat.

When he slapped my right breast, a short scream escaped me that turned into a throaty moan as Emile’s fingers invaded my pussy, stretching and preparing me.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Conor said. “Your tits bouncing every time I slap you, your tight nipples begging for my lips.”