AllFreeNovel
Share Us
PAX
The sightof the Mountview Pack embracing each other so openly, the possessive anger at seeing Beatrice’s old suitor snarling at her, and Jack’s unease at taking my hand, then his kiss for all to see. It boiled down to one hard truth, which at last I could put words to. I was angry that my mates had not declared their love for me, nor I for them. What had seemed like more than a year of torture before I fucked Beatrice had been a matter of weeks. And now? How long had it been? But a month, I realised. A month and we’d not declared that we loved each other. I watched them climb the stairs. The Romantic love poets described matched my feelings, but theirs was a web of words meant to ensnare rather than the hard truth of my own experience.
Beatrice’s inertia, I’d come to understand, for she had known the transition between lovers to mates would be harder than getting my knot into her. The battle won, there seemed little reason to hold back, yet I had come to doubt what our relationship could evolve into. Lost to the possibility that I did not know what love was.
Reluctantly, I’d visited with Mrs Markham again only to find her out. To my surprise, Hero had received me, the girl far more mature than when I’d last seen her. She’d asked after my mate and only at the end did she smile, saying Beatrice was fortunate to have a mate who loved her. “Nay, two. Each to look after her and permit her to exist because of the mutual respect owed to each in their turn. It must be nice, but that is too weak a word. Nice that no matter the cost, you would be honest with one another. If that man had been honest with me, perhaps he would not have sought to elope with me. For I loved him, a girlish love, and would have given him the money he needed.”
“You share a confidence with me.”
“Yes, my lord. I believe you to be an alpha who takes his duties seriously. There are not many like you or the Colonel.”
Her words had caught my attention. Respect? How strange to think that the basis for love rather than any protestation that life would end without them by your side. Respect. Honesty too. But we had not been honest with her—fearful that if she knew what we intended to do with Stimpson, she would… I sighed. She’d do something reckless. We feared that. Feared she’d put herself in danger. Our mate, so fearless, was saddled with a pair of alphas who feared. The word repeated in my head until I snarled in disgust. We’d need to tell her. Show our hand, let her know our plans, that she might better understand the precautions we took… But not tonight. Tonight I would make clear how loved they were. Words could come later. Actions must stand in place until I’d discovered the most appropriate manner to express myself.
The parcel sat in the centre of the bed wrapped in velvet, such a dark blue it almost appeared black. And on top, a folded card.
My lord, your commission.
I licked my too dry lips. Would it be as perfect as I had imagined? Who would I have opened it? Beatrice? Jack? Would I be first to have the pleasure of seeing the contraption I’d ordered?
“What has your attention?” Beatrice leant against me, as trusting as a kitten—one with claws. I purred for her, but the deep rumble inside of me had to speak, for I lacked the words to properly express how pleased I was that she trusted me enough to be so pliant and affectionate.
“A little present for you.”
“Pax.” There was a hint of warning in her voice. “I don’t need—“
“Hush. The present is for you, but you will be the present for your alphas. Isn’t that just delicious to think about, my Vixen? I wonder how high you’ll swing…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you get a swing? Pax? Did you truly get a swing?”
“How?”
“With you obsession with my stockings, your love of art. More damning, you had sketches of Fragonard’s ‘The Swing’ on your desk… Jack. I was right. He had a swing made.”
“You—”
“She guessed right away.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his hips into mine. He wasn’t hard yet, just teasing himself and me. “Well, won’t you show it to us?”
I unwrapped their present.
The seat was the finest boot leather, polished until I could see my face in it, and smelling faintly of blacking made with champagne. I would know, for I’d given the craftsman some of the stuff I made for my own boots to ensure it had exactly the look I wanted.
She tested the strength of the knots tying her arms above her head.
Her knees rested on the soft mattress. For now, we must be careful with her body. In the future, she would have to trust us. She gave a little grunt as she struggled to keep still.
“It is too much for her,” Jack said. He knelt behind her, supporting her weight on his thighs, the crisp hair a surprisingly erotic sensation. And his cock? The hot, thick length was lodged snug between her buttocks. “We want you comfortable… Relaxed. Hmmm… You smell so sweet little mate.”
“Please.”
“What?” I asked, kissing along our bites.
“Her toys,” Jack growled. “Find those toys she liked to play with. Trix, I need you to know that even though we will fuck you, fill you up with cum, I still want you to use those fancy toys. Play with yourself…”
“I don’t need them,” my omega snapped. “I don’t need them. I only want to come on your knots.”
“Who said you are going to come?” Jack asked.
I found the bag, riffled through it, and eventually dumped the contents onto the bed. Her dildos ranged from the realistic, even ones with knots, to the fantastical. I had wondered how she had survived her heats without an alpha, now I knew. No alpha could compare to the one carved with vines and flowers or the unforgiving hardness of polished wood. Even their weight told me my omega could come over and over with these inanimate tools… And, Goddess, I wanted to see that.
