With every stroke, my body ignites, the fire inside me burning brighter and brighter. The scent fills my senses, making me lose all control as I work myself over, chest heaving as I struggle to stay standing.
Images of my alphas fill my mind.
Jamie’s cocky smirk slips as I command him onto his knees. The satisfaction of watching him drop to the ground, being a good fucking alpha, doing what his omega tells him to do.
Then I tell him to crawl to me like a good boy, and he does. The other two watch, eyes blazing with feral hunger, tied to chairs behind him.
Jamie looks up at me with need in his eyes, crawling to me like a dirty little whore.
When he gets to me, he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, the little cum slut I know he has to be.
I smile down at him before grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back. With my free hand, I shove my cock into his waiting mouth and begin to fuck his face.
The sounds of him gagging on my cock, the look of pure lust in his eyes and the way tears stream down his cheeks as he takes every punishing thrust I give him has me snapping back to reality.
My nails claw at the wall as my orgasm crashes into me. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds, trying but failing to smother my moan as my cock jerks in my hold, filling my boxers with my release, adding to the mess that was already left behind.
When my balls are wrung dry, I slump against the wall and slide down until my naked ass hits the ground.
“What the fuck did I just do?” I whisper, shame trying to overcome my post-orgasm haze.
I’m still too gone in the moment, my alpha’s scent still fucking with my head.
That's the excuse I give myself anyways as I stare at our joint releases for a while before kicking out of my sweat pants and getting to my feet.
There’s this need inside to have their scents consume me that has me take the dirty boxers and slip them on, grimacing as my cooling release presses against my still hard cock. One orgasm isn’t going to take away my hard-on.
I could keep going for hours. But I’m too tired and drained. I need to sleep off this hangover and be ready for tomorrow.
Stumbling my way over to the bed, I let myself fall down onto the crappy mattress.
My eyes close as I bury my face into the fabric and inhale deeply.
It’s fucked that having his scent on me calms every unsettling feeling waging a war inside me.
Sleep takes over as the comforting scent of pumpkin and marshmallows surrounds me.
This time, I dream. Of them. And I know there’s no running away from this.
When I wake the next morning, I’m no better than I was the night before. Still, I force myself out of bed and stumble my way to the bathroom.
Pulling my shirt off, I toss it to the ground before turning on the shower. Next, I go for my boxers and curse when it feels like someone is ripping a damn waxing strip off me.
“What the fuck?” I look down at my boxers and remember what I did before putting them on. “Fucking hell.” I growl, shoving them off me and tossing them to the ground.
Getting into the shower, I pause before stepping under the spray.
I don’t want his scent washed off me. Why the fuck do I not want his scent washed off me?
I go to duck under the spray but pause just before the water hits me.
“Fuck!” I hate myself for this, but I get out, turn the shower off and get down on my fucking knees to shove my head under the tap. I scrub at my hair, washing it angrily as I hate myself for not being stronger than these stupid omega urges. Why do I feel like crying just from washing his fucking cum off my body?
I want to feel sick about it, but I don’t.
Ugh! This is all so fucked up.
After I rinse my hair, I dry it, unable to look at myself in the mirror.
