But there’s none of that.
My omega, kissing this fierce, beautiful woman who protected him when I couldn’t just feels right. Aside from the hot lick of arousal burning my gut, I mostly just feel gratitude. And a bone-deep relief that Mason hasn’t actually spent all of this time entirely alone, which is what I always really feared.
And if he isn’t ready for me to touch him yet, that doesn’t mean he won’t let me be a part of this.
For now, I’ll take what I can get.
I lean closer, letting my breath ghost across Phoenix’s ear.
“He likes to be on bottom,” I murmur, low enough that only she can hear. “Take his pants off.”
Phoenix pulls back from Mason’s kiss, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Her amber eyes find mine, questioning.
“You sure?”
I nod once.
She bites her lip, hesitating. Her gaze flickers between Mason’s face—dazed with heat and want—and mine. Her fingers toy with the waistband of Mason’s sweatpants, not quite committed.
Then Mason whimpers.
The sound is raw, needy, pulled from somewhere primal. His hips roll forward involuntarily, seeking friction that isn’t there. His hands clutch at Phoenix’s shoulders like she’s the only thing keeping him from flying apart.
That sound decides her.
Phoenix’s hands move with purpose now. She tugs at the elastic waistband, easing the fabric down over Mason’s hips while I shift position to help. The sweatpants slide free, pooling at his ankles before being kicked away entirely. He’s bare beneath, flushed and hard and trembling.
Beautiful.
Phoenix guides Mason onto his back. He goes willingly, gray eyes glazed, hands reaching for her with desperate need. She settles over him, straddling his hips, and I watch as she leans down to capture his mouth again.
The angle gives me a perfect view. Her copper hair spilling across his chest. His hands sliding beneath her oversized sweater. The way his back arches when she grinds down against him.
My cock throbs against the confines of my jeans, aching for attention I refuse to give it. Not yet. This isn’t about me.
“Slowly,” I instruct, voice rougher than I intend. “Make him wait for it.”
Phoenix shoots me a look over her shoulder that saysI know what I’m doing, but she complies. Her movements become deliberate, teasing. She rocks against Mason in a lazy rhythm that makes him groan with frustration.
“Please.” Mason’s voice is wrecked. “Phoenix, please, I need?—”
“Shh.” She silences him with a kiss, swallowing his pleas. Her hand slides between their bodies, wrapping around him, and Mason’s whole body jerks like he’s been electrified.
I shift closer, positioning myself near Mason’s head. My hand finds his hair, threading through those damp curls, anchoring him. His eyes flutter open, finding mine, and the raw vulnerability in his gaze makes my chest ache.
“I’ve got you,” I promise. “Just let go. Let her take care of you.”
Mason’s hand finds my wrist, gripping hard enough to bruise. I don’t pull away. Just hold steady, a fixed point while Phoenix works him higher.
She’s good at this. Every touch precisely calibrated, every movement designed to push him closer to the edge without letting him fall. I watch her read his body the way I used to—the hitch in his breathing, the flutter of his eyelids, the specific tension that means he’s close.
“Not yet,” she murmurs against his throat. “You don’t get to come until Judah says so.”
Mason whines. Actuallywhines, high and desperate, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
Phoenix meets my gaze again, eyebrow raised.Your call.
I let the moment stretch. Let Mason’s anticipation build. His grip on my wrist tightens, his hips stuttering up toward Phoenix’s hand despite his efforts to stay still.
