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PAX
“We’ve been sentto bid you come to dinner,” I said.
“Oh, Jock, one more moment. I need to finish this off if I’m ever going to get Vi’s eyes right!”
We walked around to see what she was working on. Dozens of violet coloured eyes stared back at us. Not so good as the ones...”
The moment she realised how... How natural this was. None of the gathering storm but just the ease of people who knew each other so well.
I remembered what the Lovers circle looked like. How it was hidden beneath layers of material.
“Tell me, Miss Hartwell,” Paxton smirked. “Have you always painted naked alphas...”
“It is... that sculpture! Oh! I could kill you,” she brandished the paint brush.
“With a paint brush?” I laughed.
“It would slow,” she murmured. “Slow and painful and I would do it with a smile on my face.”
“Flirting with us?” Pax purred. “If you were to misbehave...”
She stiffened. “I won’t play your games, Pax.”
I blinked taken aback by the sound of my name for Pax on her lips.
“You called me Pax,” he said, sounding like an idiot.
“What? No! Pax. Peace. Let’s stop all this bickering. It does no one any good,” she sighed. The potential murder weapon was put down and she stood. Such a small and soft little thing when compared to her mates. The contrast of the two was a delight to behold.
“I’ll get—”
“No. Leave it. The nest needs more smells,” she sighed. One leg drawn up, the knee bent and her arms resting above her head.
Jack ran a hand down her body, his fingers arrived at her cunt and he dipped inside, gathering slick and cum and smearing it over her body, beginning with her thighs. Bea hummed in satisfaction.
“Join us,” she murmured. “Come here Pax.”
As my cock and knot slid out of her hot cunt, she gasped, almost surprised.
“Goddess it shouldn’t but it does,” she whispered, eyes closed and cheeks flushed.
“What?”
“The feeling of you leaving my body, the stretch of your knot, and the rush of cum that follows. It shouldn’t be so good but it does, every time I am left surprised and wanting more, once more to feel that again.”
“Like this?” Jack asked, his hips retreating until I was left with that gasping sensation Beatrice had experienced moments before.
In all the known world, there was only one alpha who jacked off to the sight of his lovers making art.
I watched Bea paint a gloriously naked Jack. worked on taking her latest piece and preparing to make it into an etching, and gripping his knot in one hand while the other stroked, long and languid, up and down his length. He’d repeated this performance a million times before and it was only after the eighth or so event that we realised he didn’t want sex… yet. He wanted to pleasure himself while watching us. It was almost as much a part of our routine as his obsession with buying Bea silk stockings for the pleasure of gently rolling them down her legs or to watch me rip them off.
It was our life, however unusual, or not, and one I treasured. There would never be an easy relationship with my mother-in-law who stubbornly refused to believe she was in the wrong.
