Page 131 of The Rust in Her Hair

Owen says he’s on it, then he steps in and pushes the door shut behind him. He crosses to us and crouches down beside Lyra's head. He brushes the tangled hair back off her damp face with his fingertips, being so gentle. Then he tips her chin up and kisses her softly, before drawing back to look at her.

"There's no time to get you into a shower," he says with a smile. "You'll have to go like this." He looks down at my slowly deflating knot.

Lyra smiles up at him, drunk and pink-cheeked. "That's okay."

I grip the base of my cock and test my knot. Thankfully, it’s gone down enough. I ease out of her as carefully as I can, but my sweet omega still winces at the loss, her pussy fluttering around the sudden emptiness.

She starts to sit up.

"Wait." Owen's already moving around the bed. "Don't move yet."

He sits at the edge of the bed, touching the inside of her thighs. Then he spreads her legs open, and he looks at her for a moment, at the mess I've made of her. My cum and her slick sliding out of her swollen pink center.

"Look at you." His voice goes low and reverent. "You made such a good mess, sweetheart."

Then he leans down and puts his mouth on her.

Lyra cries out, her hips bucking up off the pile, and Owen follows her, licking into her slow and thorough, cleaning every trace of our mixed fluids off her pussy. He laps at her like she's the best thing he's ever tasted, patient and worshipful, until she's writhing and gasping and grabbing at his hair.

I watch them and my cock grows long and thick all over again. It doesn't take long for Lyra to come on Owen’s face, shaking through it while he groans against her. I keep my eyes on Lyra’s face as I start pulling my clothes on one piece at a time, stuffing my hard cock into the best pair of slacks I own.

This dinner had better be fast, because I’m not in the mood to wait.

I want to be here, buried inside my delicious mate. I want to take my time with her, then watch Nico, Mack, and Owen make her come so many times she can’t remember her own name.

She has no idea that she’s going to be wanted like this every single day for the rest of her life.

The Storm

Mack

My mouth falls open as Nico turns the truck up the drive, allowing us to finally see the Van Houten house…well, mansion.

Even in the dark I can see stone the whole way up, windows about as tall as a man, and a fountain out front lit blue with water pouring off some naked marble babies…or maybe they’re angels. I can’t tell.

"Sweet Lord," I say, angling my head down, trying to count the number of floors. It’s difficult to see everything from the back seat of the truck, but I can see enough. "You grew up here?"

Lyra lets out a heavy sigh next to me. "Unfortunately."

Owen reaches over and places his hand on the omega’s knee, but he keeps his eyes locked on the dark lawn outside his window.

I wish it were still light out. I’d love to see how far this property line goes.

Lyra groans low in her throat as she looks at a long line of expensive cars parked along the front of the house. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"What is it?" I ask, turning my hat over in my lap.

"There's a party." Adrian says from the passenger seat, and I hear his nerves running under it. His jaw's tight, one hand gripping his own knee.

I feel so bad for the alpha, but I'm also glad it's him and not me introducing himself to Lyra’s parents. I would not be able to hold my opinion of these people back for even one second.

"It must be their annual fundraiser." Lyra sits up straighter, staring out at the cars like they've personally wronged her. "I forgot they were doing this tonight." She places her hand over her exposed cleavage, and I can practically hear her heart beating against her ribcage.

"What’s it for?" Owen asks as he pushes his glasses back up his nose.

Lyra goes quiet.

She's still staring out the window at all those cars, but she's not really seeing them anymore. Her black-painted nails pull at the hem of that dress, and she sucks in a deep breath before she answers.