Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
CASH
As a beta, I know very little to fuck-all about omega heats and alpha ruts.
Lucas and I have an amazing sex life, but it’s rare for him to go into a true rut because typically only an omega can trigger one.
And I know as much about heats as anyone with access to the internet and any interest in porn because that has to be the most popular search on most sites.
But I’d never seen quite that level of intensity from Lucas when he picked a completely heat-dazed Trinity off of the floor, shushing and scenting her as she writhed. That was my first clue.
Matheo and Kyren bursting into the room, pupils gone black and chests swelling with alpha hot air, is my second clue.
When Trinity leaps off the bed, one hand working frantically at each of their belt buckles as she insists they kiss, and Matheo and Kyren start making out, I’m absolutely fucking sure of it.
All three of these damn alphas are going into a rut.
I’ve always prided myself on keeping a level head, especially when things get messy with Lucas and his alpha instincts.
As a beta, I don’t get swept up in the primal chaos of ruts or heats, which usually keeps me as the anchor in the storm.
Right now, though, watching Matheo and Kyren tangle tongues while Trinity claws at their clothing, I’m grasping at straws to maintain any kind of control in this jet cabin turned pressure cooker.
“Trinity, hold up,” I say, stepping forward with my hands raised like I’m negotiating a hostage situation. “Let’s get that nest finished first.”
If a few hours go by and she suddenly realizes the bed isn’t a nest while four men are crashed out on it, her reaction won’t be pretty.
Her head snaps up, hazel eyes swallowed by black, and the look she gives me is pure, unfiltered hunger. “Nest later. Need you. Need all of you. Now.”
Matheo, Lucas, and Kyren stalk the edges of the bed like predators barely leashed, their impatience rolling off them in waves.
Lucas’s fingers twitch at his sides, his jaw tight with restraint. Kyren’s gaze locks on Trinity, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he fights to hold back. Matheo’s hands clench into fists, his breathing ragged, but he doesn’t move closer—not yet.
Their scents thicken the air, all musk and dominance, and I know they’re seconds from snapping.
I dodge Trinity’s reaching hands as she grabs for my shirt, redirecting her toward the pile of blankets Lucas brought. “Focus here, okay? Stack these up. Make it yours.”
She whines, a desperate sound that cuts straight through me, and instead of taking the blanket, she bends forward, hips arching into the air, presenting herself. The sight draws a chorus of suppressed snarls from the alphas, their control fraying audibly .
My pulse spikes, but I grit my teeth, focusing on the task. I grip her shoulders to pull her upright, but my hand slips down, landing on her thigh, slick and hot under my fingers.
The contact burns through my resolve. I yank my hand back, wetness clinging to my skin, and fumble for a pillow with my other hand to shove at her. “Here. Use this.”
Lucas lunges before I can blink, seizing my wrists in a grip that’s all alpha strength. His tongue drags across my slick-coated fingers, tasting her on me, and his eyes roll back with a groan that’s pure rut-driven need. “Fuck, she’s sweet.”
I wrench my arm free, chest heaving, and glance at Trinity. Her pupils are blown wide, no trace of reason left in that gaze. She’s beyond words, beyond anything but instinct.
“Trinity, I’ll do my damnedest to piece you back together if these idiots break you into pieces,” I mutter, knowing she probably can’t even process it. “But I’d rather avoid that, so I really need you to work with me here.”
She launches herself at me with a force that knocks me back into Lucas’s solid chest. I stumble, caught between her heat and his rut, as her hands claw at my waistband.
Just before her mouth closes around me, she looks up, and there’s a flicker of clarity in those dark eyes—more than I expected.
Her lips curve into a wicked smirk. “Not if I break you first.”
Trinity’s mouth sinks down on me, hot and relentless, sending a jolt of pleasure so sharp, it’s like a blade slicing through every rational thought in my brain.
My knees buckle for a split second, a gasp ripping from my throat as she works me with a desperation that mirrors the heat flooding her system.
I’m caught in the hot and clenching vice of her mouth, my hands instinctively tangling in her chestnut waves, not to guide but to anchor myself against the storm she’s unleashing.
Lucas’s arms snake around me from behind, his grip firm and unyielding, holding me in place as if he knows I’m seconds from crumbling. His chest presses against my back, warm and steady, a wall of alpha strength that both comforts and overwhelms.
“Got you, Cash,” he murmurs, voice rough with his own rut-driven edge, lips brushing the nape of my neck. The vibration of his words sends a shiver down my spine, amplifying the chaos Trinity’s already ignited.
The pleasure is so acute, so piercing, I’m not sure how much more I can withstand before I shatter completely.
My vision blurs at the edges, every nerve ending alight as Trinity’s tongue swirls with a ferocity that feels personal, like she’s claiming me just as much as I thought I’d be claiming her.
I grit my teeth, a low groan escaping despite my best efforts to stay composed.
I’m a beta—supposed to be the calm one, the steady hand—but right now, I’m drowning in sensation, and I don’t care to fight it.
Lucas leans forward, his breath hot against my skin, and I feel the shift as he reaches around me. His hand glides down Trinity’s thigh, gathering the copious slick that coats her skin, evidence of her heat in full throttle.
He pulls back, and before I can process it, his fingers are at my backside, spreading the warm, silken wetness there.
The intimacy of it—the way he uses her essence to ease his touch—sends a shockwave through me.
One finger presses in, slow and deliberate, finding that sensitive spot inside with a precision that makes my breath hitch violently.
“Relax for me,” Lucas growls softly, his tone a mix of command and care as he strokes the tender sponge of my prostate, each movement stoking a fire I didn’t know could burn this hot.
My body responds on instinct, muscles clenching then loosening under his touch, and I’m panting now, caught between Trinity’s mouth and Lucas’s fingers, the dual assault unraveling me thread by thread.
Then he enters me, gentle but firm, his presence a grounding force even as it pushes me further into sensory overload.
The stretch, the fullness—it’s overwhelming in the best way, a deep ache that morphs into raw, pulsing pleasure as he moves with a controlled rhythm.
My head tips back against his shoulder, a broken sound escaping my lips as I surrender to the tide of it all.
Trinity hums around me, the vibration sending another shock through my core, and I realize I don’t need a heat or a rut to lose my mind. This—being pinned between an omega in heat and an alpha in rut—is enough to strip away every ounce of control I’ve ever clung to.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” I rasp, voice barely recognizable, my fingers tightening in Trinity’s hair as Lucas sets a pace that matches her intensity.
I’m not just caught in their storm. I’m part of it, my body a conduit for their need, my pleasure spiraling higher with every thrust, every flick of Trinity’s tongue. I’m breaking, and I’ve never felt more alive.
Turns out, I don’t need to be capable of going into a heat or rut to completely lose control.