He grinds forward since he cannot thrust fully with the knot locked inside me. The ring presses against every nerve ending as the fullness shifts with each roll of his body. My vision whites at the edges while my scent surges through the room in a wave.
Lorenzo’s breath catches from where he leans against the desk, watching us with dark eyes.
“Right there.” The words scrape from my throat as Wilson’s hips grind harder. His breath comes ragged against my collarbone, and his hands grip the couch cushion on either side of my head. “Wilson, right there, don’t stop—“
The orgasm crashes through me from tailbone to skull, my untouched cock pulsing hot between our bodies while I clench around the knot with such force that Wilson chokes against my neck.
He fills me as his hips jerk forward, his fingers tearing into the couch fabric beside my head. The heat of him pouring inside combined with the fullness of the locked ring triggers another wave that rips a scream from my throat, my nails carving paths down his back.
Wilson sinks his weight onto my chest. Ragged breaths stutter from his lungs while his cock continues to twitch inside me, the ring maintaining its swell, binding us together in this moment. My legs ease their grip around his waist without fully releasing him. The hollow emptiness that tortured me earlier has vanished completely, replaced by a satisfied hum that vibrates through every cell.
Lorenzo moves from the desk, his fingers threading through Wilson’s damp curls before his mouth finds my temple, pressing warm against my skin. “Better?”
“So much better,” I manage, the words slurring together as though my tongue has forgotten its purpose. Wilson remains motionless, his face buried against my throat while uneven breaths warm my skin. “Wilson. Hey.”
He makes a sound against my pulse that might contain words.
“Are you alive?”
“No.” The vibration of his voice travels from his lips directly into my bloodstream. “You killed me. I’m dead.”
Lorenzo laughs quietly, his hand remaining in Wilson’s hair while the ring deflates. The silicone softens as Wilson’s pulse slows beneath my fingertips. When he eases out of me, a whimper escapes my throat, my body instantly protesting the emptiness where fullness had been moments before.
Wilson sits back on his heels between my legs. His face flushes pink across the cheekbones, his dark hair standing in sweaty spikes where my fingers had gripped it.
Lorenzo silently shifts to Wilson, easing the silicone off his cock and then kissing our Beta before Lorenzo leans down to kiss me. “That was probably one of the hottest things I’ve ever watched and I’m going to enjoy watching it again.” He moves back to the desk and then returns with a clean silicone ring that he presses into Wilson’s hand.
Wilson just stares at me.
“Keep it on you,” I tell him. “I’m going to need it again.” When that still doesn’t make sense to Wilson, Lorenzo jumps in.
“You’re going to soon learn that our Omega doesn’t take a break. He works up until the moment his heat hits, which drives everyone around him crazy. The staff know to be on guard during this time so no one touches Oliver but you may very well need to repeat something like this.”
Wilson offers me a small smile. “That’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he murmurs as he moves to sit on his ass, pulling me into his lap. “So, I’m game. I think.”
That draws laughter from all three of us but I’ll take it because this version of Wilson is so much stronger than even just a few days ago.
28
Wilson
Oliver's scent shifts at 2 PM on a Thursday. The club lies quiet and closed for the afternoon, with the floor empty except for us restocking the bar for tonight's shift. Lorenzo is handling calls upstairs while Nicholas reviews the latest Voss filing at the attorney's office.
Without music and beneath the harsh house lights, the building shrinks into something smaller and more honest. I love this part of the afternoon, the moment when it’s just us and maybe a few staff, easing into the beginning of chaos.
From my position unpacking glasses, I watch Oliver balance on a step stool to reach the top shelf vodka. The sweetness in his scent suddenly spikes, deepening at the edges as the warmth concentrates into something richer. My hands freeze on the crate as my nostrils flare involuntarily.
Oliver wobbles slightly. His hand grips the shelf while his breath catches audibly. When he looks over his shoulder, his pupils have already begun dilating. "Wilson."
The knot ring weighs in my left pocket where it has remained since the last spike two days ago. I haven’t had to use it since, either Nicholas or Lorenzo have been available, for which I’m more than grateful for. It’s almost overwhelming knowing that Oliver is in pain until I can fill him. But with none of them around, it’s my turn to help my Omega.
"I've got you." My voice maintains steadiness despite the climbing heat in my stomach. Crossing the floor, I lift Oliver from the step stool. His body folds against mine while his face presses into the crook of my neck. His scent floods my chest with concentrated sweetness, causing my cock to stiffen against his hip before my feet even stop moving.
I find the nearest nest behind the DJ booth, a smaller one Oliver has stashed in an alcove half-concealed by the equipment. I guide him inside and the door swings shut behind us, replacing the club’s fluorescent glare with the few low amber coated lights.
Before my knees touch the blankets, Oliver’s hands are on my belt. His fingers tremble as he tries to undress me but I just chuckle and catch his wrists. “Slow down.”
“I can’t.” His voice is thin, pitched higher than normal. “Wilson, I need—”
