I take off again. My perfume rises around me. The air turns sweet and sharp with it. Damn biology. I know they can smell it. I know they can taste me in the air.
I practically dive behind a big rock. My breathing is coming out in short, ragged gasps. I clamp my hand over my mouth. Everything in me trembles. Not with fear, but with awareness. Footsteps nearby have me holding my breath. My body is on fire. I’m aware of everyfiber, every moment. My pulse is as fast as a hummingbird's wings. My thighs press together without me thinking about it. An electric force at my core signals the feelings Zeke can't cover. A deep desire and the awakening of a primal part of him that I haven't felt since that night at the club. It heightens every feeling I'm having into a fever pitch.
Another snap, closer. Hide or flee? Hide or flee? Another rustle. Another thrill. I don’t want to escape. I want to be worshipped in the woods. I bolt to my feet.
I don’t make it two steps before a heavy, muscular arm bands around my waist, lifting my feet from the ground. A gasp breaks free. It comes out as half a squeal, half a moan. My back slams into heat and strength, and the scent of jasmine and smoke floods my senses.
“Gotcha, omega.” Gage’s voice is low and heady, filtered through his helmet in the cool night air. The words curl through me, settles somewhere deep.
I struggle fruitlessly against his arms for a minute, just to see if I could give him another good chase. Just to feel how easily he holds me. How little effort it takes.
I was caught pathetically early, but I may as well be struggling against stone for how firmly he holds me.
“A princess lost in the woods,” Gage says, spinning me and pinning my back against the nearest tree. “What should we do with her?” His grip isn’t rough. It’s certain. Like he knows exactly where I belong.
Shadows step out from the forest and into our little part of the woods. My alphas have become something out of my deepest, masked imagination. That little side part of me that people in my everyday life never see. They don’t rush me. They let me feel it. Let the waiting stretch.
I push Gage away, and he moves willingly. His scent has gone a little off, like he’s confused or worried he pushed things too far. That hesitation makes my chest ache in the best way.
I’m here to assure them that they haven’t gone nearly far enough. I want them to know I chose this. I want them to see it.
I step out into the middle of the wide circle that the alphas have made around me. Looking around, I steel myself. I’m not nervous, but I am practically vibrating with need. My heart pounds in my chest, and my hands shake a little as they come up to my blouse.
I carefully peel away the top, then move to my jeans. The drag of the zipper is filthy in the quiet woods. Low alpha growls ring the circle, and though I can’t see their faces, I can feel every pair of eyes boring into me. They don’t touch. They don’t help. They make me do it.
I shimmy out of the pants, taking my soaked undies with them, and my shoes along with those. Lastly, I unclasp my bra and let my breasts spill out into the cool spring night air, immediately pebbling to hard nipples. The night kisses me everywhere they haven’t yet. I arch without thinking, offering myself to their attention.
“You caught me. Now what are you going to do with me?” I say in challenge, sounding far more confident than I feel at this point.
Corbin, as the dominant alpha, moves first. He snaps forward with a speed that takes my breath away and takes my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks together enough to force me to pucker. His thumb brushes my lip, not accidental.
“On your knees, Sweetheart.” Soft. Certain. Like he already knows I’ll obey. Like he knows I want to.
I stop thinking and sink to my knees. The twigs and dirt are hard on my bare skin. Something in my expression must show it because Corbin shucks off his jacket and bends down to slide it under me. Pressing his helmeted forehead to mine on the way back up.Care first. Always.
The clink of his belt and slow drag of his zipper isn’t the only one I hear. The others are moving in, pulling down zippers, shoving down pants, thick cocks already in their fists. Corbin steps in closer, bringing the flushed head of his cock right to my lips. It pulses. So does my core.
“Open,” his deep voice rumbles. Like it’s an invitation, not a command.
I do, eagerly.
My mouth goes wide and pliant. The first slide of his shaft over my extended tongue is warm and thick with his precum. The warmth in my center blooms, pulsing down to my clit and back. I ache, feeling the slick dripping down my thighs. They can see how ready I am. I don’t hide it.
He pushes in slow at first, careful, but I don’t want slow. I grip his hips and push forward, taking more than half of him at once. I swallow him deep, showing him what I want. That I can take it. That Ineedit. His cock hits the back of my throat, and I breathe through my nose, drunk on the thick scent of alpha arousal. Corbin groans, deep and raw, and it punches straight through my spine.
He finally gets the picture and threads his fingers into my hair, fisting it just enough to sting deliciously. Not to control me. To anchor me.
He starts to move. Deeper. Harder. Dragging my mouth over his cock until I’m swallowing him whole, nose buried against his skin. He pulls out with a wet, satisfied pop. Then he shifts me—hands on my jaw, on my shoulders—passing me to the next waiting alpha.
I’m shared.
They circle around me. Cocks out. Hands working. Hungry eyes locked on every slick slide of my lips. Smoked cedar and black coffee hit my senses as Rafe steps forward. He doesn’t speak. I don’t give him the chance. I lick the underside of his cock slow, then wrap my lipsaround the head and look up at him. He groans and lets his head fall back. Rafe is very Rafe. Praise hums in the way he exhales. He thrusts smooth and low. Every movement hits into my throat, forcing me to swallow him over and over again. Not rough. Confident. Like he trusts my body.
My hand slides over my breasts, squeezing, teasing, drifting lower until I reach the soaked heat between my thighs. I’m dripping. Fingers barely find friction, but I rub anyway, working over my clit while my throat works over Rafe.
“She’s touching herself,” Eli’s muffled voice comes through the helmet.
“She’s so sexy when she’s needy,” Zeke says.
