I waketo a pulsing need in my core. A slow insistence that builds and blooms until it’s an ache that pulls me from sleep like a hook through water.
My skin prickles where the sheets touch—too rough, too much friction. Everything is sensitive. The slick way my thighs slide together is a sweet torture.
The weight of an arm across me sends need right to my core.Charlie’s breath on my shoulder makes me shiver.
My scent floods the room, overripe, turning thick and cloying, so sweet it’s almost obscene.
So much Alpha scent swirls around me as my breathing picks up—leather and bergamot and salt mixing with chocolate and chili, and with sage and sweetgrass.
The emptiness in my core is demanding. Fuck, this need is all-consuming, drowning out everything except the primal drive to be filled.
A whine slips from me as I arch my back, my nipples rubbing against the sheets. The friction is too much and not enough, sending jolts of both pleasure and pain straight to my core. More slick floods between my thighs.
I hear a deep groan—I can’t tell which Alpha it comes from—that sends shivers racing over my skin. I arch back into the solid wall of heat behind me, seeking friction, seeking Alpha. My hips roll instinctively, searching for something to fill the emptiness, grinding my core against hard muscle and harder cock.
Opening my eyes, I find Charlie holding me against his chest. His scent wraps around me, earthy and grounding, and my Omega purrs at the contact.
He groans in his sleep, hips pushing forward to meet mine. The thick length of him presses against my apex, hard and ready, even unconscious. My core clenches at the feel of him.
But there’s something my Omega wants. Something she needs.
She wants the Alpha she hasn’t had yet.
I try to pull away, to turn, but Charlie’s arms tighten around my waist, trying to pull me back against his chest. But I wiggle free, and I twist in his hold until I’m pressed against Beau’s side.
My hands map the planes of his stomach—hard ridges of muscle, soft skin, the trail of hair leading down. I trace lower, lower, until my fingers find the coarse hair at the base of his cock.
I pause, heart hammering, heat making me bold.
Then I reach lower still, wrapping my hand around his semi-hard erection. He’s massive, even half-hard, thick and heavy in my palm.
A sound of desire slips out of me—half-whimper, half-moan. Even though I know he could split me in two, my pussy weeps slick in anticipation of taking his knot. The contradiction doesn’t matter. My Omega only knows want.
I slowly stroke him, enjoying my little game as he sleeps. Watching as my touch makes his erection harder, thicker. His cock pulses in my hand, growing with each pass of my palm.Pre-come beads at the tip, and I swipe my thumb through it, spreading the wetness.
He makes a deep sound of pleasure that’s half-moan, half-growl, his hips flexing into my grip.
I look up at his face.
One arm is thrown over his head, the other resting at his side. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths. He’s beautiful. Sleep softens the tough man he is when awake, softens the decade we have between us. Makes him look younger. Vulnerable.
My eyes catch on his hands.
Strong. Scarred from years of bull riding. And new marks, knuckles scraped raw, bruised dark purple and black.
He defended me. The thought sends a fresh wave of slick out of me, my Omega preening. He fought for me. Protected me. Kept me safe.
Mine.
My hand tightens around him, stroking faster now. His cock is fully hard, thick and long and perfect. I can feel the place where his knot will form, already starting to swell at the base.
Need that. Need him. Need to be full.
Mine, my Omega purrs.
The urge in my core pulses stronger, insistent. Empty. So empty.
I release his throbbing cock from my grip and slide up his body, the heat of his skin searing against mine. Swinging my leg over his hips, I straddle him, my naked, slick core hot and open, his rigid erection nestled between my swollen folds.
