Chapter 7 #2
With a wistful sigh, she knew she should have been furious. She tried to feel anger… but warmth oozed where his bond bore into her breast. Where it snuffed out each spark of rage, batting her resentment away as if it were nothing.
Like a game of cat and mouse.
Even in his sleep, he worked on her, triggering an irresistible urge for Brenya to hum a soft trill to calm his growing waves.
It was the same noise she had made when he’d moved inside her the night before. A throbbing music so instinctive she did not understand how she had lived her whole life unaware she was capable of singing such a hum.
This was the Omega.
The part of her banging on her skull until it cracked, desperate to be free.
To be acknowledged.
And it was the Omega that was leaking all over her thoughts and scratching at the inside of her eyelids every time she blinked.
Who stared down with soft eyes at her devious mate.
Who knew waking him was unconscionable, not when she was certain he had not slept so soundly… perhaps ever.
He was so beautiful.
Possessed profane knowledge of her body, wielded by a confident monster.
Memory of Jules’s fingers inside her, meticulous and perfect as they’d pushed in with a soft slurp where her cunt wept. The strange ridges ringing his cock, teasing, his entry firm, each withdrawal deliberate. His tongue swirling within her mouth.
Her hum grew more brazen, rampant desire warming her belly.
Nipples peaked, a strange buzz rippling just under her skin.
“Good morning.” Voice gravelly with sleep and thick with budding curiosity, Jules woke. He smiled, tucking a brown tangle behind her ear, watching her mental breakdown as if she were perfection incarnate. “How are you feeling?”
From the distance, Jacques warned, “Brenya, don’t.”
Yet the strangest urge to lean into Jules’s touch came over her. Resistance made each thought stutter, until the thing inside her, the Omega, forced her neck to turn so her cheek might nuzzle his open, offered palm.
It felt good, his callouses on her ugly facial scar, the stroke of his thumb over her lips.
The screaming loudness of the Red Room went silent. Jacques was fully shut away. She was finally able to close her eyes and know quiet.
And breathe while the Beta petted her and purred.
The cracks mended; the workings of her brain came back online. Reason parted her lips so she might confess in a baffled whisper, “The room is too bright.”
His chest rumbled in sleepy satisfaction, Jules touching her freely as if he had never kept his distance all those weeks. “Your pupils are heavily dilated. Omegas broadcast desire for their mate’s attention this way. The world must seem very bright indeed, but it’s nothing to be afraid of.”
His dulcet tone, the low rumble that worked itself into his steady voice, was like a physical stroke over her sex. He purred loudly, and it set her eyes to roll back into her skull, left her melting down into her nest.
Thoughts quiet.
Indulgent, Jules took a deep breath, savoring the taste of the air, and smirked like a cat ready to pounce. She could smell his cock engorging, his scent growing thick with pheromones as he rolled his weight on top of her.
To block out the sun.
And there it was—hot, pulsating, dripping against her belly. A thick, ringed, strange cock, with foreskin, with dark swirling tattoos, with promises that he would add to the delicious soreness between her legs if she would submit.
As if to drive her insane, the maddening click, click, click restarted its clamor at the back of her brain. The racket overwhelming as she accepted his searching kisses that he pressed to her lips.
“Something is wrong with me,” Brenya muttered, pulse loud in her ears.
Male weight pushing her down into the nest, Jules’s lips lingered at her ear to whisper, “Then let me help you make it all better.”
Better? Yes. The Beta could fix this, whatever was wrong with her brain, whatever banged at her skull… his scent alone broadcasting he was the answer. He could use his fingers and pluck the right nerve. He had to, if she’d just hitch her legs open.
Knowing fingers stroking her body, a strong hand cupping her breast, kneading. He held tender flesh to his lips, drawing her beaded nipple to his mouth.
And she moaned with the pleasure of it, fisting the sheets and arching into his mouth. “I feel so strange.”
“Do you?” Jules asked between sucking bites, cock dripping his sticky fluid all over her thigh. “Tell me.”
Breathless, she murmured, “I should be so angry with you…”
The sting of teeth, a hiss of pain, and she abandoned her handfuls of bedding to wrap her arms around him and dig her nails into his back.
Jules carved his name into her flesh with each wet kiss, pressed his thigh firmly between her open legs so she could rock her aching pussy against his strength.
Rivulets of slick came pouring from her slit, Brenya’s skin tingling where callused, rough palms gripped flesh.
And she touched him. She had to touch all of him.
To nip him as he bit her, to entice him, to make him never, ever stop, or the clicking would drive her mad.
Coherent thought long gone, foreign Omega urges forced her legs to wrap about his torso, lewdly angling the part of her that dripped.
The head of his cock caught on her opening, notched at the mouth of her cunt. And though she rocked her hips upward so he might use her, Jules did not thrust in.
Instead, he kissed a path down her flat belly, his lips brushing her mound with reverence.
With devotion.
Thumbs parting her lower lips, Jules opened the fountain of her cunt so slick might flow freely.
That first thorough lick left Brenya begging, “Please, please, please…” unsure what she begged for.
When she had been trapped with Jacques, the Alpha had used oral sex as a way to torture her, to edge her and punish her, and she’d hated it with a passion.
Yet, when Jules sucked her pert clit into his mouth, the pulsating suction and little flicks of his tongue were heaven. She died, right there, a warbling scream lost in the bloody walls of the Red Room.
Hands tangled in his dark hair, Brenya yanked on his brown locks to pull him closer. Thighs trembling around his head, she ground her pussy against his face and knew the most exquisite pleasure.
And the Beta knew how to savor, spent ages seeking out what made her squirm, coaxing her whimpers and sucking gasps.
And then he taught her something new.
Something not even Jacques had dared.
“Take a breath. You’re going to feel a lot of pressure,” the Beta purred as three fingers pressed through the clench of a pussy eager to be filled.
Pads of his fingers curved into an arch until he caught the firm ridge of her pubic bone, gripping hard.
The pressure on the roof of her vagina intense, countered by the meat of his palm working her throbbing clit as she hissed.
It was too hard.
“What—”
Working the nerve between her vaginal canal and bone, he smirked.
“Beyond what peeks out of your cute clitoral hood, this fascinating nerve runs deeper into your pelvis. Forks inside you. Two long branches that anchor along the pubic arch. By manipulating it internally, and teasing the external nub here…” He ground his palm again.
“Feel that? Your legs start shaking, little Omega.”
They were. Shaking and twitching, like she’d touched a livewire.
He wasn’t fucking her with his fingers or rubbing where a knot would stimulate, like he had the night before. No… this was forceful.
He gripped her mound like he owned it. Manipulated that screaming nerve inside and out. Bent it to his will.
And the instant Brenya’s velvety pussy began to twitch as if on the cusp of a forced slick-squirting orgasm, he released his grip, pulling out just enough to gather all four fingertips into a point at the mouth of her twitching slit and plunge them forward, stretching her poor opening until each digit was knuckle-deep in Omega cunt.
Her gasp at the unbearable pressure, the way her pupils began to sharpen, Brenya looked down, wide-eyed, to see his hand wedged into her cunt. Her orgasm denied and manipulated to create suction on his fingers that drew him deeper.
“That’s it. Yes. Relax, sweetheart, and let me in.” Eyes on her, the Beta tucked his thumb into his palm. A burn came to the mouth of her cunt. “Trust me, I know exactly what you need.”
The pressure was too much.
Another knuckle, another gasp. The widest part of his palm pressing forward, the force of his hand persistent until, with a sudden squelching sound, her body gave way.
“Unngh!” Bucking against the intense stretch, a moment of fearful clarity broke through Brenya’s sexual delirium. She looked down again to find Jules unabashedly pumping his wrist in and out of her pussy. A subtle bulge moving under her lower belly in time with the roll of his knuckles.
So much more than a knot.
Breath coming in short gasps, her body rocked by the movements of his arm, she gaped.
“I….” Scandalized, the sight so vulgar, yet Brenya was spellbound, panting as Jules rocked his fist, knuckles, thumb, against everything until she just about died.
Tendons in his arm bulging, his forearm muscles flexing, he kissed her inner thigh, never once looking away from her face. “Breathe, Brenya. It’s going to be intense. I don’t want you passing out from hyperventilation. If you can’t control your breath, I’ll stop.”
Gods yes, he had to stop. But, no. No. He must never, ever stop.
The Beta was pumping his hand in her guts. She could see her belly distend—a knot that was so much more than a knot.
Balling up his fist, chuckling at the look on her face, he rotated his wrist, thumb massaging her cervix, flicking it back and forth purposefully.
And then she felt nothing but explosive pleasure, until she was sure he was right—she would faint.
Spiraling his arm, teasing every nerve, Jules praised her lavishly, “Good girl, like that. rock your hips. Show me where you want me to move.”
Was she moving, or was he moving her?