I closed my eyes, unable to look at him as I surrendered what felt like the last shreds of my dignity. “I need you to touch me. To make it stop. Please.”
“Where?” he pressed, his voice dropping even lower. “Tell me exactly where you need to be touched.”
My face burned with humiliation. “You know where,” I ground out. “Don’t make me say it. Haven’t you taken enough of my dignity for one day?”
“But I want to hear you say it,” he insisted, his thumb still tracing those maddening circles. “I want to hear those pretty, swollen lips form the words.”
Pretty, swollen lips that he just finished claiming like he owned them. The bastard is enjoying this way too much.
I opened my eyes to glare at him, finding his face much closer than expected. Those cobalt-blue eyes were nearly black now, his pupils blown with arousal and something darker. “I hate you,” I whispered with absolute sincerity.
“I know,” he replied, completely unfazed. “Now tell me what you need, or this conversation ends and you spend the night in discomfort.”
Another pulse of desperate arousal made me gasp, my resistance finally crumbling under the weight of biological imperative. “I need you to touch me,” I finally said, each word like glass in my throat. “My cock. Make me come. Please.”
There. I said it. I just begged my kidnapper to jerk me off. Rock bottom, meet Leo Yamamoto.
The plea cost me everything, but the flash of dark satisfaction in his eyes suggested it was exactly what he’d been waiting for. The final surrender, the explicit acknowledgment of my need for him.
Instead of immediately touching me, Stefano stood and pulled me to my feet. “Not like this,” he said, his voice rough with barely controlled desire. “I want you comfortable.”
Before I could protest, he seated himself on one of the larger logs and pulled me down with him, arranging my body so I was sitting between his spread legs, my back against his chest. The position left me completely exposed, vulnerable, on display for Marco and Matteo who watched with expressions that were pure predator.
Oh, fantastic. Now I’m the entertainment for the evening. ‘Come one, come all, watch the omega get finger-fucked by his captors!’ This just keeps getting better.
“What are you doing?” I gasped, trying to pull away from the solid wall of heat at my back. “Let me go! This isn’t what I agreed to—I thought you’d just… not this!”
“Relax,” Stefano murmured, his mouth against my ear, breath hot against my skin. His arms wrapped around me from behind, effectively trapping me against his body. “This way is better. Trust me.”
Trust him. Right. Like I’m going to trust the alpha who just arranged me like his personal sex toy for maximum viewing pleasure.
“I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you,” I snapped, though my struggles were half-hearted at best. The solid heat of his body behind me was oddly comforting, even as it terrified me. “And considering you weigh approximately as much as a small tank, that’s not very far.”
His chuckle vibrated against my back, rich with dark amusement. “Such a mouth on you, even now. Let’s see if we can put it to better use.”
Before I could process what he meant, Marco was suddenly there, kneeling between my spread legs. His movements were too controlled, like he was fighting his own instincts with every breath. When his hands landed on my knees, pushing them farther apart, I could see the fine tremor in his fingers.
“Such a pretty omega,” he murmured, his voice rougher than before. His gaze dropped to where my cock strained painfully against the sweatpants, the fabric doing nothing to hide my arousal. “All flushed and needy. Makes me want to taste every inch of you.”
Oh, hell no. We’re not adding oral to this nightmare. Though the way he’s looking at me… like I’m dessert and he hasn’t eaten in weeks.
“Get your hands off me,” I said, though the command lacked conviction when my legs remained spread, my body apparently having decided this was exactly what it wanted. “I only agreed to let Stefano touch me, not turn this into some kind of alpha tag team event.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Marco asked, his fingers trailing up my thighs with featherlight pressure that had me biting back a moan. “Because your body’s saying somethingvery different. The way your scent spikes when both of us touch you…”
My scent is probably broadcasting ‘desperate omega in need of alpha attention’ to half the forest at this point. Subtle as a brick through a window.
“I only agreed to let Stefano—” I began, then cried out as Stefano’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of the sweatpants, his fingers wrapping around my bare cock.
The contact was electric—hot skin against hot skin, his large hand engulfing me completely. My back arched off his chest as sensation exploded through my nervous system, so intense after hours of desperate arousal that my vision blurred at the edges.
“Fuck!” I gasped, my hips jerking forward into his grip involuntarily. His palm was rough with calluses, creating friction that made my entire body shudder. “Oh fuck…”
This is it. This is how I die. Death by alpha hand job. They’ll find my body with a stupid smile on my face and absolutely no dignity left.
“And I will,” Stefano growled against my ear, his hand beginning to move with deliberate slowness. His fist slid from base to tip, thumb sweeping across the head where precum had already gathered. “But Marco wants to help. Don’t you want his help too?”
His grip tightened as he stroked upward, thumb pressing against that sensitive spot just under the head that made stars explode behind my eyelids. The combination of his rough palm and the slick of my own arousal created friction that had me gasping, my hands clutching desperately at his forearms.
