“Thank fuck we have a driver,” Brendan said as Rhys swept me up into his arms, carrying me out of the studio and down the driveway to where the guards waited. “Though I’m getting fucking sick of car sex.”
“Not sitting on the backseat, watching this time,” Orion warned. “Fuck, I need her!”
“We all need her, brother.” Rhys leaned over, kissing him savagely before depositing me on the middle row of seats. “You know that, don’t you, omega? We need you as much as you need us.”
I nodded weakly, reaching out for them, and in they came.
“As fast as you can go without causing an accident or getting us arrested,” Orion snapped at the driver, then got in and slammed the door.
Then there they were, surrounding me, the enclosed space instantly making me feel a little better, less like I was a free-floating ball of need out in a cavernous, unfeeling galaxy, but it didn’t stop me from writhing.
“Hurts, alpha!” A cramp had me bending double, my breath forced out, but not enough coming back in to fill my lungs. “Alpha…!”
“Get her jeans down. She needs something inside her now!”
The purr of a zip, the wrestle of tight denim, and then my sobbing cries of relief as something hard pushed between my legs, right where I ached the most.
“We’ve got you, omega. We’ve got you.”
Chapter 22
Frenzy was like being on some kind of aphrodisiac. My body was hot and swollen with desire, but that paled into insignificance to now. I was drowning in it, aware on some level that being out here in the open was a bad, bad idea. I needed four walls, iron clad doors, and a nest… Tears rolled down my face at the thought of that, something my therapist had tried to engage with me on so many times.
“Why not practise making a nest, just for fun? Like a pillow fort or something silly like that. You don’t have to invest too much meaning in it. Just play with some fabrics, see how they feel. If you hate it, it’s no great loss.”
“Of course I’ll hate it,” I’d spat back. “I’m not a bloody dog in a whelping box or something. Nests are stupid.”
“The nesting impulse is a part of who you are, like scenting and frenzies and heats. If you don’t identify strongly with them, I understand,” she replied, “but your wholesale rejection of them… You’ve always struggled with what you are, and now—”
And now I needed it, burrowing down in-between the three of them, the ways their bodies crowded into mine providing some of the enclosed space and pressure I craved. But I clawed at their shirts, some torn off and thrust into my fingers, the fabric wrapped tight, but it wasn’t enough. Then another cramp racked my body. I lay there limply, the tremors shaking my whole body, when a hand slid between my thighs.
“I’m going to take the edge off, omega,” he said, one of them, the man I needed. I breathed them in, sucking their scent in, that mix of three different ones doing something to ease me. And when the next cramp came, so did he, thrust his fingers into my sopping cunt, rocking his thumb against my clit, and it took only one, two, three pulses to send me hurtling over the edge.
“Yes…” I hissed. “That. Need it.”
Coming replicated the same frantic spasming inside me as my body rearranged itself, readying for what was to come, but instead of pain, there was only this. Bliss, that was how I felt for a few heady seconds, their hands stroking over me.
“We’ve got you, omega.”
How much time had passed? Why had we stopped moving? I couldn’t tell you, but doors were opened and voices came.
“And now we need to get her into the club. Security protocols are changing. We’re going into lockdown. No one gets in or out of this building without our express permission. And douse the car with de-scenter. I don’t care if you have to strip the interior. No one scents our omega.”
“Bring her in here.” Another voice, crisp and sharp. I’d been picked up and swept into another space.
“In the playroom? Fuck, Marcus…”
“Through it and in here.”
I opened my eyes a crack, feeling it, some sort of innate spatial awareness letting me know I was in a much smaller room. It felt closed in, something accentuated by the dimmed light globes and the fabric hanging tentlike from the ceiling. I made an inarticulate cry, deposited on a thick pad of a mattress, reaching shakingly for the trolley beside it.
“Here it is, omega. All for you.”
Marcus, Marcus said that, crouching next to me, drawing my focus to the stash of nesting supplies. Fabrics of every colour, texture, and softness had been stacked in neat piles, but not for long. Some felt too slippery and were quickly discarded, others dragged on my skin, but then I found them. Soft like well broken in cotton, they felt clean and good, the weaves giving under my fingers, stretching. I felt the same, thin and sinuous, slipping through their fingertips as I started to move, arranging the fabric according to a design hardwired into my kind. I created something small, snug, layers built up on top of each other, until I sat back on my heels, the disquiet rising again.
Something was missing, and I couldn’t bear that right now. The need was kicking my arse, but I couldn’t meet it. I didn’t even know what ‘it’ was, stupid incomprehensible noises forced out of my throat, but for what?
“Here, omega.”