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Completely annoying.
Because they cared.
Didn’t they?
Enough to punch somebody and carry me out of a bar like I weighed nothing.
I squeeze my thighs together under the thin motel blanket, the ache between my legs turning into a throb that won't quit. My black cherry almond scent thickens the air, sweet and needy.
God, why now?
But my mind won't stop replaying them—Tripp's smug green-eyed smirk, Briggs' thick tattooed arms, Clint's massive chest. Alphas. I imagine them here, crowding the dingy room, their scents overpowering mine, alphas ready to claim their omega.
Tripp steps first, his black cowboy hat tilted back, plaid shirt hanging open over his chiseled torso. He grabs my wrists with his lasso rope, yanking them above my head and tying them to the headboard.
"Look at you, omega, leaking slick already," he growls, his piercing eyes locked on my soaked pussy as he rips my panties down my thighs. His thick fingers plunge in, two at once, stretching my dripping hole while his thumb circles my clit.
I whine high and desperate, hips bucking, my slick gushing over his hand.
Briggs chuckles from the side, body looming over me as he strips off his tight black tee, tattoos flexing on his broad chest. He climbs onto the bed, knees straddling my ribs, and shoves his cock—thick, veined, base already swelling—against my lips.
"Suck it, slut," he orders, gripping my jaw.
I open wide, tongue swirling his salty precum as he fucks my mouth, balls slapping my chin. His knot bumps my teeth, promising to lock later while Tripp curls his fingers inside me, hitting that spot that makes me sob around Briggs' shaft.
Clint's there, too, shoving Tripp aside to yank my legs wide. His backward trucker hat stays on as he lines up his massive cock, the outline I'd seen bulging in his shorts now bare and throbbing.
"Gonna knot this omega pussy," he grunts, slamming in balls-deep.
My walls clench around his girth, slick squirting out with each brutal thrust. Briggs pulls out of my mouth to slap his wet cock on my face, then feeds it back in, choking me.
They switch, Briggs flipping me onto my stomach, ass up, mounting me from behind. His abs press into my back as his cock spears my pussy, knot inflating at the entrance, stretching me wide until it pops in with a wet sound. I scream, whining, slick flooding down my thighs.
Tripp kneels in front, fucking my throat while Clint jerks his cock at my side, ropes of cum splattering my skin.
"Breed her," Clint snarls, and Briggs does, hot spurts filling me, knot pulsing, locking his cock inside me.
They don't stop. When Briggs’ knot deflates, Tripp pulls out of my mouth to take his place, his lean hips snapping as he knots my ass next, the burning stretch making me whimper.
I whine and buck, orgasms ripping through me, black cherry almond scent exploding as they bite my neck, marking their omega.
My fingers slip under my waistband for real now, rubbing my clit frantically, two digits pumping my slick-soaked pussy. I bite the pillow to muffle my whines, thighs quaking as the fantasy peaks, coming hard, walls fluttering, slick drenching my hand and the sheets.
Embarrassment burns my cheeks even as satisfaction hums through me.
I roll onto my side and pull the blanket higher even though I’m not cold, already knowing tomorrow is going to be weird because there’s no way any of us can pretend tonight didn’t happen.
Eventually, the restless buzzing under my skin dulls enough for my eyelids to start feeling heavy, and my last thought before sleep finally starts pulling me under lands somewhere between embarrassed and entirely too satisfied.
Chapter
Eighteen
Tripp
The drive back home was a special kind of hell. Autumn in the front seat with Clint, me and Briggs in the back. The air in the truck felt thick enough to chew, smelling of coffee, citrus, and the sharp, anxious tang coming off her. Every time Clint reached for his energy drink, his arm would brush her thigh, and I'd see her whole body go still for a second before she forced herself to lean away.
When we finally roll up the long gravel drive, she’s out of the truck before Clint even has it in park. The door slams shut, the sound echoing in the quiet morning. She doesn’t even look back. She just walks straight to the house, her shoulders tight, and disappears inside. The three of us sit here for a minute.
