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“Yes.”
“Then get your cock out,” he said.
I risked looking over at Pax. Goddess, the light of his candle illuminated every time he fisted himself with long, even strokes. Even when his scent was high and thick with arousal, he always maintained control, driving his partners mad. Knowing how it felt to have Trix’s quim quivering and pulsing on my knot, I didn’t doubt he’d lose that composure when he fucked her. I growled in the back of my throat at the image my mind so easily conjured.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Take your cock out, Soldier. I won’t tell you a third time.”
My alpha growled at being ordered around, especially by someone who’d never outranked me in the army. My cock, however, twitched, eager and willing to please the man next to me. When I pushed the sheets off, he could see I was half hard already. Under his steady gaze, I pumped my shaft twice, probably too rough but it felt good, better than good.
“She’ll be wet for us.” He muttered.
“Tight,” I offered a little of my own memory, or was it fantasy because they were both there in the vision my mind conjured. “She’ll milk you dry, shuddering with her orgasm.”
“And what will you do?”
“Fuck her mouth,” I groaned. He was asking me when so often he told me how we would fuck a beta. “Goddess, Pax. What are we doing? This…”
“Squeeze your knot, Soldier.”
I did as he ordered. “Press her breasts around my cock…” Had I done that? I couldn’t remember, but now that the image had caught my imagination, all I could think about was how soft and delicious it would be. “I’d get my cock wet with her slick and then fuck her breasts. I’m leaking.”
“You are.” His voice sounded so husky and, dare I say it, desperate.
I turned my head to see Pax staring at my groin, causing my balls to draw up ready to come while he watched. I strangled my knot to prevent my release rather than go off like a school boy. Sucking my lips between my teeth and biting down until I tasted the tang of blood, I focused on the swags of fabric above my head. Then the mattress dipped. Pax had rolled onto his front, rutting rough and raw into a pillow which he’d folded over and held secure with one hand. The muscles of his back, ass, thighs flexing. Goddess, but I wanted to touch. Eyes on him, picturing Trix under him—picturing myself under him. I planted my feet on the mattress and reached my other hand between my legs, pressed a finger into my ass, relishing the burn, so that I could massage the spot that had me seeing stars. The dual stimulation undid me. I cried out, shooting ropes of cum onto my stomach. Goddess, had I ever had such an intense orgasm before? Beside me, Pax’s thrusts took an uneven quality, he was close. Every growling grunt hypnotised me and I gripped the sheets to stop myself from touching—him or myself, I did not know which I wanted more. Yet all the while, I saw Trix and her soft, luscious curves shuddering under the violence of his need.
He came with a shout. So like him not to care if he was heard.
Then silence.
Goddess, that silence.
“I should go to bed,” Pax muttered. He rolled off the bed, and left me with my swollen eye and busted lip and the combined scents of our cum filling the room. It took a moment to realise what he had done. He had come all over one of the pillows, and not the one he had taken with him. I groaned, growing hard again. Had he done it on purpose? Or had he just not thought? Leaving the pillow because it was messy with his cum and not because he wanted to torment me with the reminder we’d been in the same bed, fantasying about Trix, about what it would like to be with her. And then like the alpha fucker Puck accused me of being, I’d spun the image again to have Pax fucking me into Trix and the infinite pleasure of being the one caught between them.
“Dammit.” I reached for my hard cock again and prayed that I would only need to come once more. Otherwise my dick would be raw from fucking my hand all night long. Hell fires, I wasn’t even in rut.
Pax
I woke,face buried in the pillow I’d stolen from Jack’s bed. If I couldn’t have him, at least I could have his scent with me. How another alpha—and one so dominant—equally soothed my darker side and brought it to the surface could be left to greater thinkers than I. If I must endure the torture, he would as well… So I’d left the pillow covered with my cum in his bed. An unsubtle reminder of what we had done.
Jack was in my blood and paired with the overwhelming provocation of Beatrice. Her defiance made me more determined than ever to claim her—put her in her place, knot her, and mate her. The memory of how they’d sparked the night before had my hard cock twitching. I grunted and thrust my hips into the soft mattress in a hollow attempt to relieve the raging need to fuck her… him too. His cock, the way he’d reached into his ass while he’d gripped his knot, spurting cum over his tensed abs. The strength of will required to hold back instead of controlling his orgasm, deciding how rough he would take it, how long he would have to hold off before I let him come. And Beatrice? In the fantasy she lay bound, pleading for our knots. Her slick streaming from her. I’d make her ride Jack’s face. He’d lick her clit, fuck her sex with his clever tongue. I’d have them in my power. Would it matter that they didn’t touch my cock? Of course not. Because once they were well and truly exhausted, I’d fuck their limp bodies until they came again, squeezing my knot. No. Jack had said she would milk my knot. But I would fill them both up so much of my cum that it would leak out of them for hours. It was almost embarrassing how quickly I came as the fantasy evolved and details filled in.
I rolled over and lay blinking at the ceiling rose; almost indistinguishable because no one had pushed open the curtains to let the morning sun in. The next weeks would be torture without the possibility of finding some beta to have between me and Jack. I’d not take one, not for anything—Hells but we hadn’t shared one for a year. The realisation that I’d been celibate for a year stunned me. Yet it was true. Not a single fuck since Beatrice had shot me. Goddess, but this omega was nothing I could have ever dreamt of and more. She inspired me in the way Jack had when I’d first seen him and wanted to add him to my collection.
I snarled as I considered my predicament. There were too many options when I preferred a straight road. Normally I could buy something. Or natural ability would provide what I wanted. But before me were two people wholly incapable of being bought.
Though it might’ve seemed petty to a greater man, my frustration increased tenfold because I had to wait while a maid brought hot water for me to shave with. No fault of the maid. Rather, since Beatrice Jane Hartwell’s bloody method for quelling my alpha need to rut her, I hated shaving without a valet. My shoulder was stiff, less mobile, especially in the morning, but my valet had left to find an employer who was more… modern in how he styled his hair. I could wait until I returned to London before finding another. If my beard had been as grey as the hair on my head, this daily irritant could be done away with. Instead it grew in as black as the hair I’d been born with.
I began to run the blade across my face, relaxing into the familiar rhythm, letting my thoughts wander.
But there was no idle contemplation of the browning lawn out the window or of the Italian portraits that hung on the wall. My thoughts, as they had for a year, revolved around the omega who’d shot me, rejected me, and flirted with me.
More darkly, I couldn’t shake the memory of when Jack had suggested I might want to share her with her alpha. I’d not considered some stranger, but Jack, who held everyone, including myself, at a distance with a quip then dragged me deep into his web by uttering my given name, Benedict. I couldn’t even tell if he was attracted to me more than our deep and easy friendship—even that had a rocky start. In fact it had been about this time of year when we’d first met.
Five years ago
Europe
