chapter TWENTY-SEVEN #2
I clamp my hand over my mouth and bite down on the fleshy part of my thumb to keep from crying out, the sharp pain the only thing preventing me from making sounds that would definitely attract unwanted attention.
My free hand tangles in Zane's hair, probably gripping too tight, but he seems to like it if the way he groans against me is any indication.
The vibration of his voice pushes me closer to the edge. My thighs start to tremble, muscles tensing as the climax builds. Zane seems to sense how close I am because his pace increases, fingers pumping faster while his tongue works my clit with focused determination.
"That's it," he murmurs against me, voice so quiet I almost miss it. "Come for me, Cox. Let me taste all of it."
The command paired with his skillful mouth sends me over the edge hard.
My orgasm crashes through me in waves, thighs clamping around his head as pleasure whites out my vision.
I bite down so hard on my thumb I taste copper, the pain the only thing keeping me from screaming.
My entire body convulses, muscles contracting in rhythms I can't control as wave after wave of release washes through me.
Zane works me through it expertly, his mouth never leaving me as he swallows everything, catching every drop of cum and the pheromones that come with it. His fingers gentle their movement but don't stop, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until I'm completely boneless against the seat.
When I finally stop shaking, he pulls back slowly, pressing one last soft kiss to my center before carefully repositioning my underwear. His face is flushed, lips swollen and glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction and unmistakable want.
Moving with the same care used to undress me, he helps guide my shorts back up my legs.
I lift my hips to help, both of us staying hyperaware of the coaches' positions as we try to make me look as normal as possible.
To anyone who might glance back, I'm now just a teammate recovering from post-race nausea, maybe feeling better after some rest and hydration.
"Better?" he asks as he settles back into his seat, wiping his face with the inside of his shirt, his voice rough with arousal.
"Much better." I look at him, noting the way his pupils are still dilated, the slight flush on his cheeks, the obvious bulge in his shorts that he's trying to hide. "What about you?"
His smile is wicked, satisfied in a way that makes heat curl through my core again despite having just came. "I'll manage. But fuck, Reese, you taste incredible."
The compliment makes me flush, warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with my heat cycle.
My scent has mellowed completely, no longer the sharp spike of desperate need that was driving everyone crazy.
The relief will hold for a while, long enough to get through check-in and settling into the hotel rooms.
Tyler finally allows himself to relax slightly, his educational monologue winding down to a natural conclusion. "...which is why immediate post-competition nutrition should always be a priority."
"Fascinating stuff, Wu," Beckett says from his position in front of us, though his voice carries an edge of strain that suggests he's been affected by the encounter despite not being able to see it.
Gray turns in his seat, steel eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. There's approval there, and something deeper. Possessiveness mixed with concern, the complex emotions of an Alpha watching his Omega being cared for by another member of his pack.
"Team dinner's at seven," he notes quietly. "We'll need another plan by then."
The practical reminder brings reality back into focus. This relief is temporary, lasting maybe two hours if I'm lucky. By the time we sit down for the celebratory dinner, my body will be building toward another spike, the heat cycle reasserting itself as the hormones rebuild in my system.
Tyler adjusts his glasses, trying to regain his composure. "I can handle dinner. Pressure points, maybe some contact under the table. Less obvious than this."
"You sure?" I ask, studying his face. Despite his analytical nature, there's genuine care in his dark eyes, and something else. Want, carefully controlled but definitely present.
"I'm sure." His voice is steadier now, but I catch the way his gaze lingers on my mouth, then drops to where Zane's hands are still resting possessively on my thighs. "We all want to help, Reese. In whatever way works."
The hotel appears ahead. We'll be here tonight before driving back to campus tomorrow.
As we pull into the parking lot, I realize the dynamic between us has shifted fundamentally.
This isn't just crisis management anymore.
These men want me, all of them, and they're willing to work around every complication to have me.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it makes anticipation curl low in my belly, already looking forward to whatever Tyler has planned for dinner. My body might be in crisis, but for the first time in years, I’m not scared of what that means.