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I rested, the toy still filling me. Then when I’d regained enough sanity to rise up on my knees, I repeated the insanely decadent fantasy again. Only this time I added more details, sketching out the scene in my mind.
Paxton would growl instructions. Telling my mate just how hard to fuck my cunt. “Don’t let her come,” he’d command. “Vixen. You will not come until you have a knot plugging you. You are going to be filled with cum, little omega…”
Jack would grin down at me. A secret, unvoiced vow that it would be worth it. That if I was his good omega the agony of being edged higher and higher with no respite would explode like a star—so bright and powerful that I would be momentarily blinded by my orgasm.
“Pull out” would be the next order Paxton gave.
I’d whine, feeling stretched open and wanting, needing to be filled again. Hands would roll me over so that I was kneeling in my nest. Then Paxton would fuck me from behind, not easing himself in but filling me to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Jack’s hard cock, glistening with my slick would tease my lips until I opened wide on my own, begging for him to choke me on his cock. He’d ignore Paxton’s warning growl to hold back. That thick, delicious length would be fed into my mouth stretching me as wide as my sex being ravaged by another overwhelming hardness.
“Goddess…” I moaned. Half caught in my fantasy, half distracted by the feeling of the dildo in my cunt and ass.
“Come, omega,” Pax would grunt as his knot lodged itself deep inside me and he fulled me sex with cum.
My orgasm shook my body and my back arched at the order from the voice in my head. I collapsed on my side and with a wince, whining as I pulled the toy from my body. It was covered with slick. I groaned as I realised there was no shame, no embarrassment. Rather—I craved the real thing. I craved those two alphas and all they could give me: pleasure beyond any imaginings—and I’d just learnt that my imagination was vivid—and a sense of security and rightness unlike I’d ever felt.
“Dammit.” There it was. The problem that went deeper than any other. I wanted them. Not just their bodies, but their utter devotion. And why couldn’t I have what they so freely offered? Tod was my mate. He was mine. And surely Paxton had demonstrated often enough his intentions. Why not taste what they had to offer? Savour them, allow them to savour me.
I swallowed. Blew out a breath. “Do not put it off, Beatrice. You must not be afraid. Fear will only deny you.”
Jack
I pacedthe length of the dining room. The table was bare and the polished mahogany glowed in the morning sun, which streamed in hot through windows that likely cost Orley a fortune in taxes… Not to mention letting in a draught in the winter. What irritated my senses the most was the air, which was almost heavy with the bitterness of my scent and Pax’s more muted confusion as to why I was so out of sorts.
The world was a peaceful place while the storms raged inside of me. Beatrice had not come down for dinner last night. Pax had smelled of her roses. I knew the two were connected. Or had… Had she decided that her revelation at the lake too much? Was she going into heat? The possibilities swirled, each picked up and discarded just as quickly.
Pax watched me throughout, a thin cheroot between his fingers. He looked so languid that I wanted to punch him. How, how could he always look so calm? How could he just not feel?
“Control yourself,” Pax growled as if he could read my thoughts. “I’ve never seen you so agitated. “Tell me what is upsetting you?”
“I don’t wish to discuss…”
“Last night I left you snoring in the library… And you deserved it after drinking however many bottles of port…” I got the sense he wanted to shake some sense into me. “This morning you search me out—still dressed in your evening kit—and do not wish to discuss what is bothering you?”
“Benedict…” I warned. “For once, no questions.”
I tried to forget what had driven me to find Pax. That dream! Such a simple, homely scene. Almost too painful, because it could never be. The three of us in my parents’ little flat above the shop. Pax slouched in a chair while Trix sketched by the window, and I’d been naked, my cock in my hand as I jerked off to the sight of domestic paradise. Waking, the reality of my life had crashed in, reminding me that no Edinburgh flat would do. Instead, it would be Pax’s house, which was as lively and welcoming as a mausoleum. Not in this lifetime or the next would anyone, even my mate, be able to persuade him to change the place. Yet I could not shake the damn near heavenly rightness of my dream.
“Your scent,” he sounded surprised. As if he’d not been with me when I’d been so aroused before. Or angry. I could not which was the stronger.
“My mate…” I shook my head. “I had a dream. Too real… Too vibrant. All of us…”
He growled and wrapped his hand around my throat. As an alpha I should have objected, but this was Pax. My alpha was not threatened. Instead his touch anchored me before I acted on the demons haunting my thoughts.
“Tell me.” He said, more softly as if I was some frightened horse he was breaking to bridle.
I shook my head. Another time, perhaps, when I wasn’t so overwhelmed by Trix’s admission. We’d had a son, a babe who had died before he’d had a chance to live. Could there be something more devastating? More heartrending than knowing my mate had been alone throughout her ordeal? Holding back from dragging her to a makeshift nest and comforting her in the only way I could think of… my knot in her. I could not think of anything else… She’d been alone. Left to… I’d listened to her parents because they’d said it was for her good, and at my darkest times I focused on that rather than the threats they’d piled on my head. Yet, a Lovers’ Circle. Our bond was True. Our child… I felt a great pit opening in my gut. What if it had been my fault that he’d died? That in not being at her side, I was responsible for the tragedy.“If I had only been there…”
“Jack?” Pax’s gravelly voice pulled me out of the darkness that had begun to swirl around me. “Jack… tell me.”
Incrementally, my body relaxed. Each muscle undoing itself but the knot in my chest would not loosen. The knot at the base of my cock throbbed confused by my dream and Pax’s closeness.
“Look at me, Jack.” He began to purr. I opened my eyes to see the silver alpha before me. His eyes danced across my face. He could not know, I told myself. He could not. If eyes were the mirror of the soul, I was damned, for all my secrets were bubbling to the surface. As his purr deepened, a sense of rightness encompassed me. “Good alpha.”
He kissed me, lips ghosting over mine as if they knew the implication of what their touch would mean.
“Goddess,” he whispered.
The kiss became more frantic, more desperate—not for control or supremacy, but out of years of need, of missed opportunity. I knew part of him was responding even on an unconscious level to whiffs of Beatrice on my body—for I had not bathed since our swim in the lake, needing her scent on my skin like I needed my next breath. And was it my imagining, or did he still smell of her as well? My kisses moved along his jaw, hoping to find little tastes of my mate on his skin. I sucked on his earlobe, scraping my teeth along the sensitive skin. Pax’s scent deepened, and he pulled away, only dive in for a fiercer, more aggressive clash of tongues and teeth and something wholly alpha, wholly Pax. I had a vague memory of him, always tasting him on another’s lips. Now I wanted to drink in that taste like a man lost in the wilderness.
