Chapter 16 #2
Her cheeks flush instantly, eyes widening before narrowing into slits. “Excuse me? If you think I’m some stereotypical omega just waiting around for an alpha to command me?—”
I laugh, the sound genuine and warm rather than mocking. “This has nothing to do with being an omega, Trinity.”
She blinks, clearly thrown by my response. “What? ”
“Being submissive isn’t about your designation. It’s about what you need.” I take a small step back, giving her breathing room. “Cash is the same way.”
“Cash?” Her brow furrows in confusion. “But he’s?—”
“A tightly wound beta with a high-powered job?” I smile, remembering with a spark of pleasure the first time I saw through Cash’s carefully constructed facade.
“Exactly. All day long, he makes decisions that affect thousands of people. Everyone looks to him for answers, for leadership, for solutions to impossible problems.”
Trinity’s expression shifts from defensive to curious. “So?”
“So when he comes home,” I explain. “The last thing he wants is more responsibility. More choices. More pressure.” I lower my voice, holding her gaze. “What he wants is for someone else to take control. To make the decisions. To tell him exactly what to do so he can just...let go.”
Her scent changes again, not just arousal now but something deeper—recognition.
“You’re the same way, aren’t you?” I ask gently. “All day long, planning perfect events, handling crises, managing other people’s expectations and dreams. Always in control, always responsible, always the one who has to figure everything out.”
Trinity swallows hard. “That’s my job.”
“It’s exhausting,” I say, not a question but a statement of fact. “And sometimes, just sometimes, you wish someone would step in and take all that weight off your shoulders. Tell you to stop thinking. Stop planning. Stop being in charge of everything.”
Her lips part slightly, but no words come out. The truth of it hangs between us, heavy and undeniable .
“It doesn’t make you less,” I continue softly. “It doesn’t diminish your strength or independence. If anything, it takes incredible strength to recognize what you truly need.”
Trinity’s hands grip the railing behind her. “And what do I need, according to you?”
“Permission,” I say simply. “Permission to let someone else take control. Permission to surrender. Permission to not have to make every single decision.” I reach out slowly, telegraphing my movement before gently turning her chin back to face me. “In certain moments? With certain people?”
Her pulse jumps visibly in her throat. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do.” I let my thumb brush across her lower lip, feeling her shiver. “I think you’ve known for a long time, but you’ve been afraid it makes you weak. For the record, it absolutely doesn’t.”
Trinity’s eyes search mine, vulnerability and desire warring in their depths. “And if that is what I want?”
“Then you come to bed and let us take care of you,” I say, my voice firm now. “No more sleeping on couches. No more pretending this is just business.”
Her breath hitches. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” I step back, giving her space to decide. “The choice is still yours, Trinity. But sometimes the bravest choice is admitting what you really need.”
I see the wavering in Trinity’s eyes, the way they darken with desire even as her lips press together in that stubborn line I’m already coming to recognize. She wants this—wants us—but she’s spent too long denying herself to admit it now.
“How about an experiment?” I suggest, keeping my voice light.
Her eyebrows lift. “An experiment? ”
“Yeah. No pressure, no expectations.” I take a small step closer. “If you don’t like anything I do, you just tell me to stop.”
“Stop?” she repeats, testing the word.
“It’s like a magic word.” I smile. “You say it, and everything ends immediately. No questions asked, no judgment.”
Trinity considers this, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her nightie. “What exactly are you proposing?”
“Just a massage. You’re wound so tight I can practically hear your muscles screaming.” I gesture toward the sliding door. “Come inside where it’s warm.”
She hesitates, then nods once. I resist the urge to take her hand, letting her follow me back into the villa at her own pace. The living room is dimly lit, the couch still arranged with her discarded blankets.
“Lie down,” I instruct, keeping my tone gentle but firm. “On your stomach.”
Trinity’s eyes widen slightly, but she complies, settling onto the couch. I kneel beside her, taking in the sight of her curves outlined by silk.
“I’m going to touch you now,” I warn, giving her time to object.
When she remains silent, I place my hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension knotted there. She flinches slightly at the contact.
“Relax,” I murmur, lightening my touch until she settles again.
I work my thumbs in small circles at the base of her neck, feeling the tightness there. Her muscles are like steel cables beneath my fingers.
“You carry all your stress right here,” I observe, pressing into a particularly tight knot .
Trinity makes a small sound—half pain, half pleasure. I immediately ease up.
“Too much?”
“No, it’s... it feels good.”
I continue, moving down to her shoulder blades. When I reach a spot that makes her tense, I stop immediately, waiting until she relaxes again before continuing. Each time she yields to me, surrendering another fraction of control, her scent grows sweeter.
“That’s it,” I encourage as she melts further into the couch. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
My hands work lower, tracing the elegant curve of her spine through the thin fabric. When I reach the small of her back, Trinity’s breath hitches.
“Still okay?” I ask.
She nods into the pillow. “Yes.”
I move down to her legs, starting at her calves. Her skin is smooth and warm beneath my palms as I knead the tension from her muscles. When my hands reach the backs of her thighs, just below the hem of her nightie, she tenses again.
I stop immediately. “Remember your magic word?”
“Stop,” she whispers, not as a command but as confirmation.
“That’s right. Anytime.” I resume my massage, careful to stay below the hemline. “You’re in control here, Trinity. Always.”
The irony isn’t lost on me—telling her she’s in control while guiding her toward surrender. But it’s true. The real power will always be hers to wield.
Gradually, her breathing deepens, her body becoming pliant beneath my touch. The scent of her arousal mingles with the ocean breeze through the still-open door, intoxicating me.
“How does it feel?” I ask, my voice lower than intended.
“Good,” she murmurs dreamily. “Really good.”
“See what happens when you let someone take care of you?”
Trinity turns her head to look at me, her eyes heavy-lidded. “Is this how you are with Cash?”
The question surprises me. “Sometimes. Everyone needs different things at different times. For example…”
I slide my hands higher, feeling the silk of her nightie bunch against my wrists. Trinity’s breath catches as my fingers trace the curve where thigh meets ass. Her skin is fever-hot, impossibly soft.
“Is this okay?” I whisper, pausing at the edge of her underwear.
She nods, face half-buried in the pillow. “Yes.”
I trace the lace edge, then slip beneath it. The moment my fingers encounter slick heat, we both groan. She’s soaked, her arousal coating the insides of her thighs.
“Look at you,” I murmur, circling her entrance. “So wet for me.”
I resist the urge to follow the path of my hands with my tongue because I’ve been thinking about how good she must taste since scenting her at the matchmaking agency.
There will be time for that later.
Trinity whimpers as I slide one finger inside her, then two. Her body welcomes me, clenching around my fingers as I curl them forward, finding that spot that makes her arch.
“Lucas,” she gasps, hips rising to meet my touch.
I work her with steady strokes, adding my thumb to circle her clit. Her thighs tremble, muscles tensing as she climbs higher.
“Let go,” I command softly. “I’ve got you.”
She shatters with a broken cry, pulsing around my fingers as pleasure takes her. I work her through it, easing only when she collapses boneless against the couch.
Unable to resist the urge, I press a kiss to the back of her thigh, smiling against her skin when she lets out a soft moan.
I pull the blanket up to Trinity’s chin, watching her face soften in post-orgasm bliss. Her lips part slightly with each breath, her long lashes fanned against her cheeks. Relaxed. Unguarded. Beautiful.
She mumbles something unintelligible as I tuck the blanket around her, and I can’t help but smile. Even half-asleep, she still has to have the last word.
“Shh,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “Sleep now.”
Her eyes flutter open briefly, hazed with drowsiness. “Lucas...”
“I’m here.” My chest tightens at the vulnerability in her voice.
“Thank you,” she murmurs before drifting off completely.
I stand there longer than necessary, watching her chest rise and fall. She looks so innocent as she sleeps, all the fight finally drained out of her. The more I study her, the closer I hope I can get to understanding why I feel so drawn to her.
Cash and I have already gotten what we needed. As soon as our pack registration was finalized, the adoption agency reached out to ask if we wanted to resubmit our application. Just knowing that we’ve had an omega, even if our pack dissolves later, will be enough to get us off the waiting list.
So why is it so hard to resist the urge to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to the bedroom where she belongs?
Ultimately, the reason why she managed to burrow under my skin and curl up there like a sleeping kitten doesn’t really matter right now.
All I know is that this is the last damn night she’s going to spend on this couch.