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“I need to shower.”
Both of them stiffen against me, and I chew on my cheek, wondering if I’ve done something wrong.
“No descenting lotion?” Austin asks.
Letting my scent free is more than just allowing them to enjoy my perfume. It’s acceptance of what this is, what it could be if they claim me too. I think sometime during the second movie, when Dylan massaged my feet and Austin ran his fingers through my hair, I decided I was tired of denying everything.
All that got me was pain and sadness.
Don’t I deserve a little happiness? Don’t I deserve to know what being with them would feel like?
“No descenting lotion,” I confirm, lifting my gaze to meet his. Austin’s sky-blue eyes are hooded. I look back at Dylan, but before I can check in with him, he’s up and out of the bed, tossing me over his shoulder and rushing to the en suite.
“Dylan!” I gasp.
“Fuck, little omega. You keep saying my name like that, and I’ll come before we even get started.”
He sets me on the tile floor so suddenly, the world tilts, but he holds me up with one hand and starts the walk-in shower with the other. Austin struts into the room and tugs his shirt off with one hand.
Damn, that was hot. My gaze devours every inch of skin without shame. Like Dylan, he’s covered in ink, but Austin’stattoos are all black and gray. I want to trace each dark sweep and beautiful line, but his fingers hook into the top of his shorts, and I stop breathing as he shoves them down his powerful legs.
Holy. Shit.
I swallow and try to rip my eyes away from his cock, but it’s tattooed as well. That had to hurt. I tip my head as I begin to make out the shapes. A tattooed hand, fingers spread, wraps around his length and little ridges take up the space between each digit. As Austin steps toward me, I tear my eyes from his crotch, meeting his hungry gaze.
Dylan straightens once the water is set to the right temperature. He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “I’m a little jealous.”
“Then, maybe you should take your clothes off too,” I challenge.
Pure, wicked delight flashes across his features, and he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Help me.”
It’s not a question.
My fingers grab the edge of his shirt right as Austin joins us and moves the hair from my neck, so he can drag his lips and teeth over my skin. A soft gasp slips out of my mouth.
Dylan tsks. “Focus, Quinn.”
Right. His shirt. I tug it up and he lifts his arms. Inch by inch, the material lifts, revealing the strongest body I’ve ever seen. He’s not overly bulky, but Dylan is almost pure muscle. His torso is a colorful display of dragons and flowers. I want to ask what they mean, but Austin presses his body against mine. The hardness of his cock—and ridges? how is that possible?—distracts me.
Austin kisses the mark Brady left behind, almost as if he’s apologizing for his brother.
“My shorts,” Dylan reminds me.
“Sorry,” I say with a laugh and drop my gaze, throat going dry as I take in the delectable V Dylan is packing. That should be illegal. I graze my fingers down the ridge of the left side and he grunts.
“You’re killing me, little omega.”
I smirk at that and slip my hands under the band of his shorts before pulling them down. Dylan’s cock is by far the biggest. Thick and veined and long. He doesn’t have any piercings or tattoos or fancy ridges, and I thank god for that. The size alone is intimidating enough.
“Your turn, baby.” Austin’s hands grasp the stretchy material of my shorts and the thong underneath right as Dylan grabs my shirt. They peel my clothes off of me, and despite the warmth of their bodies, the fresh air kisses my skin and makes my nipples pebble.
Austin drags my shorts down my legs, dropping to his knees in the process. Scent-wicking underwear gone, honey and musk explode around us. My cheeks heat with how potent my perfume is, how desperate it smells, but both alphas inhale and purr in approval. Austin is still behind me, my ass right in his face. I want to be mortified, but he bites the soft skin with a deep, throaty groan. I yelp and jump, but Dylan catches me, steadying me with a hand between my breast and the other in my hair.
My gaze flies to his.
The streaks of white in his eyes look like lightning now more than ever. Electric. Dangerous. Hypnotizing. “I knew, one day, you’d be mine,” he whispers before capturing my lips.
I heed to the demands of his mouth as Austin’s fingers tease the insides of my ankles before he moves them up, stroking over every inch of my legs as he rises. His fingers find the slick coating my thighs.
