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“Dammit.” I grunt. If he likes commands, it looks like I like praise.
Like a good dog, I think and scowl, but it feels too good to get really annoyed over it, and besides, seeing how aroused he is from what Ariadne and I are doing is a reward in itself. He’s stroking his hardening cock, and I have fucking forgotten how to breathe, looking between him stroking his dick and Ariadne’s head between my legs.
Her hands spasm on my hipbones and she swallows around my cock, and my attention is fully on her now, my stomach tightening, my ass clenching. I gasp out her name as I spill in her mouth, rocking, taking my pleasure with her, as Taj instructed.
Feels like a river rushing through me, a fucking river, spilling out of my cock. I swear I feel like the top of my head just exploded.
Black eats at my vision.
I find myself bowed over her, wheezing, Taj’s hand on my arm keeping me from falling and crushing her, and one question buzzes in my overtaxed mind.
“Ari, did you…?” I struggle to breathe. “Did you like it?”
She whimpers as I straighten, face red, eyes glittering, lips glistening, and reaches one hand under her skirt, between her legs.
I catch her hand and growl. “No. Mine. “
“But…” She glances from me to Taj and back, a pleading look in her eyes. “I need…”
“I know what you need.” I push her back on her ass on the blanket and lift her skirt. “I lick you, you come.”
She lets out a strangled sound that’s almost a laugh. “Okay, I—”
I spread her legs and then the lips of her pussy, as Taj showed me, then press my tongue right in her center, where she’s wet and sweet.
“Kia!” She writhes on the blanket, and I press my tongue deeper, planning on tormenting her small nub right after, but it only takes one lick and press of my tongue for her to come with a cry, her body shaking, her sugar spilling in my mouth.
But it’s on my tongue she comes this time, not Taj’s, and I grin.
My girl.
My omega.
I found her, and she accepted me, wanted me, kept me. Freed me from my miserable freedom, made me a part of this family.
She may belong to all of us, but she is also mine.
Dazed, I lie under the extra blankets, curled against Ariadne’s back, her head resting on Taj’s chest. He’s staring up at the ceiling, or he’s asleep already, hard to tell now that we’ve blown out the lamp, his face a collection of lines and planes, his hair meshing with the darkness.
She is a country of curves and smooth skin. I map her lines, smoothing my hand from her shoulder down her arm to her hand, then over her hip to her thigh. She sighs contentedly and wiggles a little. My hand retraces its route, returning to her hip, then slips over her waist—
And bumps against something soft but coarser than her silky skin.
I lift my head, frowning in the dark. “What’s this?”
She turns her head a little. “A cushion,” she whispers. “Don’t start griping about it like Taj did.”
I blink at her. “A cushion.”
“A little cushion. Tiny, really. Don’t worry about it.”
“But why do you have a cushion?”
“I took it from the dining hall.”
I wait, but she gives no explanation for her strange action. “Why?” I finally ask.
She shrugs. “I wanted it.”
