Just sleep, Solana. Fuck.
I chuck the jacket to the side and immediately regret it, gathering it up against my chest before slipping beneath one of the thicker blankets. Squeezing my lids shut, I try to focus on just resting when a strange sound has me staring at the door.
At first, I think someone is hurt, the muffled grunts and heavy breathing filtering through the bedroom door. I sit up in the nest, clutching Kade's jacket closer as I listen more carefully. There it is again; a low grunt followed by what might be a moan, though it's hard to tell through the walls. My first thought is that something happened, and one of my Alphas needs help.
Panic spikes through me as I scramble out of the nest. The sounds are coming from down the hall, growing clearer as I move closer. Not pain, I realize as I get nearer. Or at least not the bad kind of pain.
The office door is cracked open just slightly, light spilling out into the darkened hallway. The sounds are definitely coming from in there, louder now that I'm right outside. Heavy breathing and grunts and what I now recognize as moans of pleasure rather than distress.
I should go back to the nest and pretend I didn't hear anything. This is clearly private, something I'm not meant to interrupt or witness. But curiosity gets the better of me, combined with a desire I don't fully understand. My hand moves to the door, seemingly of its own accord, pushing it open wider.
The sight that greets me makes my breath catch in my throat, my eyes going wide as I take in the scene before me. Kade has Dustin bent over the office desk, Dustin's pants pulled down just far enough to expose his ass. Kade is behind him, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he fucks into Dustin with thrusts that make the desk shift slightly with each impact.
But it's Kade's hand that really captures my attention. It's wrapped firmly around Dustin's mouth, muffling the sounds he's making as Kade takes him. Dustin's eyes are closed, his face flushed and his body moving back to greet his Alphas’ thrusts. His hands are gripping the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles have gone white, the sounds he's making into Kade's hand full of desperation and need.
I stand frozen in the doorway, unable to look away from the raw intensity of what's happening in front of me. This is what Dustin meant earlier when he said Kade likes to watch. Except now Kade is the one performing, taking what he wants from Dustin with a controlled power that makes my core clench with unexpected heat.
The mixture of their scents fill my lungs as I lean on the door support, my body growing hotter by the second. If I stay any longer, I’m going to start slicking again and I didn’t put on any panties.
Shit.
Chapter nineteen
Kade
Fifteen Minutes Earlier
I've been hard all morning, my cock straining against my jeans in a way that's becoming genuinely uncomfortable. Every time I try to focus on the spreadsheet in front of me or the supply chain documents that need reviewing, my mind drifts back to the kitchen. To the sight of Solana spread out on our table, her dress bunched around her waist and her thighs trembling as Dustin worked her over with his mouth. To the taste of her on Dustin's lips when I kissed him, sweet and musky and absolutely addictive. To the sounds she made when she came, those desperate cries that echoed through the kitchen and went straight to my cock.
Adjusting myself for what has to be the hundredth time this morning, I force my attention back to the laptop screen. Work. I need to focus on work and stop thinking about our Omega and how badly I want to bury myself inside her.
My phone buzzes and I answer it without checking the caller ID, already knowing who it is. "Morrison."
"Jameson." His voice comes through rough and irritated. "We need to talk about the shipment coming in next week. My buyer is getting antsy about the timeline."
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my free hand over my face. Morrison runs one of the larger underground gambling operations in the tri-state area, and we've been working together for years to move high-end items that fall off trucks or appear in warehouses without proper documentation. Nothing too illegal on the surface but enough gray area that we both make a comfortable profit while keeping things quiet.
"Your buyer needs to learn patience," I say, keeping my voice level despite my irritation. "The horses don't move on anyone's schedule but mine. They're not widgets I can ship overnight."
"These aren't just horses, Jameson. These are thoroughbreds worth six figures each. My client paid good money for the connections to get them across state lines without the proper paperwork, and they expect delivery when promised."
The ranch is the perfect front for moving expensive horses that may or may not belong to the people selling them. We have the facilities, the reputation, and the breeding program that gives us plausible deniability for why expensive animals are constantly moving through our property.
Most of our business is legitimate, but Morrison and a few others like him pay extremely well for us to look the other way when horses with questionable ownership appear in our barns for a few days before being transported elsewhere.
"They'll get their delivery," I assure him, making a note on the pad beside my laptop. "Friday morning, same as always. Have your transport ready at dawn and we'll have them loaded and gone before the sun is fully up."
Morrison grunts his approval. "And the documentation?"
"Stefan is handling it. Forged registration papers, health certificates, the whole package. Your buyer will have everything they need to claim legal ownership once the horses are delivered." I pause, considering my next words carefully. "But Morrison, this is the last shipment for a while. We're going to need to cool things down for a few months."
"Why? You getting nervous?" There's suspicion in his voice now, the kind that comes from years of operating in spaces where trust is a commodity more valuable than money.
"We have an Omega now," I explain, knowing that will make sense to him in ways that a vague concern about increased scrutiny wouldn't. "She's adjusting to life here and the last thing we need is a bunch of strangers coming through the property at odd hours or horses appearing and disappearing overnight. It raises questions we don't need her asking right now."
Morrison is quiet for a moment, processing this information. "An Omega? Didn't think you were the type, Jameson."
"Neither did I," I admit, surprising myself with the honesty. "But she's ours now and that means protecting her comes first. Business comes second."
