“Is Derrick the only one who is into, uhm…” I can’t believe I’m asking this on television. This is essentially admitting I had phone sex with Derrick multiple times. Do they know that? I’m sure they do.
I clear my throat and take a sip of my coffee before I continue. “Is he the only one into orgasm control and bondage?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s all him.” Grant’s voice is dreamy, almost nostalgic. He’s obviously been on the receiving end of that more than a few times. “Ivan is the exact opposite.”
“What’s the opposite of bondage?”
Ivan perches himself on the table in front of me. “Liberty, I guess.” How he says that with a straight face is beyond me. “Freedom to move around. But that’s not really what Grant meant, because I also enjoy having someone tied up and at my mercy.”
My Beta’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. “Forced orgasms. Probably more than you could ever want. It’s a fun but frustrating tag team they play. Derrick is refusing to let you come, but Ivan is trying to pull as many out of you as he can. They make it a competition.”
I cannot imagine how that works, and if I try, I’m going to have another heat spike. I don’t want to go through that on camera again.
Oh. Shit. We’re on camera.
I point at the camera mounted on the front of the fridge, even though there are hidden ones all over. That one is just the most visible. “Guys, we’ve been talking about this on camera. America is about to know what you’re into in bed.”
Grant shrugs and places his empty mug on the table. “I’m not ashamed of it. If someone wants to talk shit because of something consensual and fun that we do, that’s on them. We’re all adults. Besides, you haven’t told us yours yet. So you’re still safe.”
Ivan leans forward and brushes some of my hair out of my eyes. “Don’t use the camera as an excuse not to reciprocate, Ariana. We showed you ours, now it’s time for you to show yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ariana chewson her lower lip, and I want to take over for her. They’re just so biteable, plump, and look ridiculously soft. I bet she uses one of those weird lip glosses that have sugar pieces in them, so it feels like sand got kicked onto your mouth. That’s gotta be why they look so good.
Will she taste like the sweet cream and citrus scent that I can’t get enough of?
“You don’t have to tell us anything, baby.” Grant takes her hands in his. “This isn’t a quid pro quo thing.”
“I’m a pervert, but not that much of one. A consensual pervert, if you will.” I lean back on my palms, still perched on the table in front of her. If she moved her chair a little, she’d be between my knees.
I hope she does it.
My Omega takes a deep breath, and when she exhales, her green eyes meet my dark ones. “No, I should tell you.” She looks nervous to, but she’s a big girl. If she thinks she needs to, I’m not going to stop her. She’s allowed to make decisions for herself.
“You guys know I’m a virgin, right?”
“Not a lot of people to pick up when you’re stuck in your house.” Grant says it without judgment and squeezes her hand. “That’s not something that matters to us. Virginity is a social construct invented to make people feel like their worth is between their thighs.”
She turns her hand over, lacing their fingers together. It makes my heart want to explode. I think she actually meant it when she said she was going to give us a chance if she’s holding his hand.
People don’t just hold hands all willy-nilly.
“Oh, I know. I bring it up because… This is theoretical, okay? I’ve never done it, so it may need to stay in the realm of fantasy.”
I scoot closer to the edge of the table, because I already know this is going to be good. “Yeah, some things don’t translate out of fantasy, I get that.”
“Right. So you know how, when in heat, an Omega is begging, desperate? Like insatiable? Maybe even a little annoying? I want to be treated like that all the time.”
Grant’s eyes dart to me with a glare that tells me not to speak right now, which is fair. The things I want to say would have her running.
He pulls their hands to his mouth and kisses the back of hers. “You want to be horny all the time?”
She tugs on the ends of her hair, looking up at the ceiling as if she can’t bear to look at us. “No. I want to be treated as if I am begging for it at all times. Kind of like free use, but add in a little degradation about how needy I am.” She drops her voice and closes her eyes. Does she think that if she can’t see us, we can’t see her?
“I want to be told how much I want it. How you’re a little annoyed with me because I wouldn’t stop pleading to be fucked, and that it seems like that’s all I’m good for.”
She is too close to being between my knees when mycock is this hard. My knot is already trying to swell. If she were to glance down, there is no way I could hide the impact her words are having on me.
