“It’s not enough,” I said, grabbing his collar as we stood outside the door of the room. Our room. “I need more. I need you, Tris.”
Sometimes, I was able to say just the right thing. Tristan stopped still and just stared at me for a second before pushing me against the wall, hard. I loved that—the heavy weight of his body, the satiny feel of his hair in my fingers, the press of his lips against my skin. He was all I’d ever wanted, all I’d ever needed, and that was what I felt right then, a small moment of perfection, before he pulled away, producing the key for the room and then opening it up on a playroom fit for a king. A bench to bend me over, restraints to tie me up, lube, vibes, dildos, whips… A sexual smorgasbord to suit every palate had been put out.
“Get that fucking dress off,” he growled, sending a shiver down my spine as the door slammed behind him. “I need you bare, love. There can’t be anything between us tonight. Nothing.”
My hand went to the zip, wrenching it down, the fabric falling to the ground in an expensive heap, and then there was just me. No knickers, because I was a bad girl, and no bra, because Madame Colette made my dresses heavily boned enough to support even my breasts. I kicked off the boots I’d pulled on in the car and then watched him do the same. His shirt buttons, his belt, his pants were all wrenched off like they personally offended him, and then he was on me.
“Jesus, Kit… How are you so fucking beautiful? You make me ache for you. My cock has been leaking slick for you all dinner long.”
He pulled my hand down, wrapping it around his rigid length, then my hand took over, the copious amounts of pre-cum making him slip through my fingers.
“Baby…” I liked the slight whine in his voice.
He was no fucking alpha, hulking over me, pretending like I wasn’t tearing him apart. Tristan maintained a perfectly impenetrable façade until this—until I made him lose control with just a few strokes, his breath coming harder, faster, in time with my hand, until we heard a sharp knock at the door. My pace slowed until finally, he prised my fingers free, then shuddered as he kissed my lips in a series of small nips, laying me down on the plush chaise longue and arranging my body until I was displayed lewdly, my slick cunt on display.
“Stay like that. Just like that.” He wanted to order me to do so, but instead, it came out a plea, which cut me far deeper. Omega, Kit, whichever part of me was exquisitely attuned to Tris wanted that, wanted that flare of fire in his eyes, the look of sheer desperation. “I go to bed dreaming of you, of the fucking sweet velvet of your cunt, of the feel of you clutching tight around me.”
Yes… I wanted to gasp, but another knock at the door interrupted that. He shook his head, strode up to the door, and then flung it open, completely naked and half frenzied with need for me.
Which was perhaps why the alpha at the door reacted the way he did.
Tall, so tall he dwarfed the doorway, the man lurked there dumbstruck by the beauty of my mate’s body. My mate, because to me, that was what Tristan was. We were tied tightly together in a way far deeper than the society marriages I’d seen take place, even if we hadn’t successfully marked each other’s flesh. But alpha boy, he let out a low rumble, deep and carnal and appreciative, as his blue eyes raked over Tristan’s flesh.
“A new alpha?” Tris said imperiously, then stepped back to admit him, the alpha lumbering inside and pulling the door shut after him, then the mood changed.
They suck all the oxygen from the room, alphas. They dominate it so naturally, no one else gets a look in. The guy hadn’t said a fucking word, yet we were choking on his alpha pheromones, a delicious concoction of smoke, peat, and sandalwood. He had to be some kind of new hire, that massive square jaw flexing as he tried to work out where to look, his eyes sliding almost perceptibly over Tris and me.
“Two omegas?” he asked, his nostrils flaring.
“They didn’t fill you in at the front desk?” Tristan said in irritation. “Yeah, there’s two of us, but I need you to service Kit and Kit only. Can you do that, big guy?”
And he was big. Of course he was. Shoulders that seemed ridiculously wide, a plaid flannel shirt stretched over them, sleeves rolled up over broad forearms corded with muscle that flexed as his hand went lower. Jeans faded from frequent use, rather than designer made, fitted thick thighs, cupping a sizeable bulge that one of those massive hands dropped down to grind into.
“Yeah, you’re all raring to go.”
There was an edge to Tristan’s voice, but he moved towards me, eyeing the alpha the whole time. I rolled up, well-practised, making room for him beneath me as the alpha approached.
“Stop right there for the moment,” Tristan ordered, then settled me back against him, an electric zing tearing through me as we connected, skin to skin. “We need to establish the rules, and I need to get my girl ready.”
“Your girl?”
Fuck, they always did this, asking the dumb questions, the man’s brows creasing as he considered the idea of two omegas belonging to each other. I couldn’t give a shit about what he thought about the situation. I looked up and behind me at Tristan, loving the fire that burned in his eyes as my back arched, thrusting my tits up and out, and his hands went to cup them like it hurt him personally to stop from touching them. My mouth fell open, small pants escaping at the feel of Tristan’s hands on me.
“Absolutely and completely,” I said, staring into my mate’s eyes, not at the alpha.
He was just a cipher—an anonymous knot for us to use to get off, to appease the stupid instincts that ruled us. Then, when I was dripping with alpha cum, Tristan would rut me, over and over, the smell of alpha pheromones taking us halfway to frenzy and back again.
“She’s mine, all mine, and you’re here to service us.” Right now, Tristan couldn’t have been less omega if he tried, the alpha’s head jerking up, his eyes narrowing as if he were meeting an equal head-on. “We, she needs your knot. You’ll touch her how I tell you to touch her. You’ll do your fucking damndest to please her in the way I tell you to please her, and in return, you’ll get a taste of the sweetest damn omega pussy in this entire city.”
“A taste?”
The alpha’s voice was a low, dangerous growl.
“You’ll be able to gorge on her, drown in her slick, suck her little clit until she explodes all over your face, and then you’ll work your knot in—”
“I’m knotting her?”
This guy must be new, as the alpha seemed as offended by that idea as a Victorian maiden.