Chapter 37
Rowan
T he dessert arrives on a gleaming silver tray, announced by a smiling server who seems completely unaware of the tension thrumming at our private table. Or maybe she's just very good at pretending.
"One chocolate soufflé, fresh from the oven," he says with a slight flourish, setting down the delicate ramekin. The soufflé is perfectly tall, proud, its surface dusted lightly with powdered sugar like a kiss of snow. Beside it, in a tiny porcelain pitcher, the crème anglaise steams invitingly.
Laurent leans back in his chair, one arm slung lazily over the back, smirking as the server cracks the top of the soufflé with a spoon and pours the thick, golden custard inside. It sinks sensuously into the molten center, the rich chocolate collapsing inward with a soft sigh.
"I hope you two don't mind," Laurent drawls, his blue eyes gleaming wickedly. "I only ordered one. Thought it might be...more fun to share."
I swallow hard. Sébastien makes a soft noise beside me. A low chuckle that somehow feels like it’s scraping along every nerve ending I have.
"We trust your judgment," Sébastien murmurs, voice silken.
"Good," Laurent says, picking up a spoon with a glint in his eye. "Because I'm feeling generous tonight."
He dips the spoon carefully into the center of the soufflé, lifting a perfect, steaming bite. For a moment, he just holds it there , the chocolate dripping slowly, teasingly.
"Who’s first?" he asks, wicked as sin.
I open my mouth to answer, but Sébastien just smiles that soft, secret smile of his and gestures toward me. "Rowan should have the first taste," he says smoothly.
My cheeks heat under the attention. Laurent winks, then leans in, offering me the spoonful like a decadent promise. I part my lips, pulse skittering, and take the bite. The chocolate is molten on my tongue, rich and bittersweet, the custard silky and warm. I let out a soft hum of pleasure before I can stop myself.
Laurent’s grin grows sharper. "Good girl," he murmurs low, just for me to hear. The words ripple down my spine like a caress.
Before I can recover, he's dipping the spoon again, scooping another molten bite, this time turning to Sébastien. There's a moment, a pause , where their eyes lock. Something heavy and unspoken passes between them.
Sébastien leans forward without hesitation, lips parting around the spoon, closing slowly. Watching him savor the taste, Laurent’s gaze goes molten.
Heat blooms low in my belly, slow and relentless. I squeeze my thighs together beneath the table, but it does nothing to ease the steady throb building there. Watching them, the easy intimacy of it, makes my skin feel too tight and my mouth go dry. Every slow stroke of Sébastien’s tongue is like a caress against my own nerve endings, leaving me aching for more.
But when Sébastien draws back, a smear of chocolate clings stubbornly to the corner of his mouth. Before anyone can move, Laurent lifts his hand, catches the smear with the pad of his thumb, and, still holding Sébastien’s gaze , slowly, deliberately draws his thumb to his own mouth and licks it clean.
The room seems to tilt sideways for a second. Sébastien’s gray eyes darken, and I feel my thighs press together under the table without thinking. The air between us thickens, charged with something electric and hungry.
Laurent sits back in his chair like he’s done nothing at all, smirking like a man who knows exactly how dangerous he is.
Sébastien leans back in his chair and lifts his hand, his expression dry but his eyes shining with heat. "Check, please," he says smoothly.
Laurent lets out a deep, wicked laugh that makes my toes curl in my heels. He signals the server without hesitation, and within minutes, the bill is settled. No fuss, no ceremony. Just a sleek black card and a signature that sweeps us toward something we are all too eager to reach.
"Come on," Laurent murmurs, his voice low and coaxing as he stands. His hand finds the small of my back, steady and firm. "Enough teasing. Time for something sweeter."
The evening air outside is cool against my overheated skin, but it does nothing to calm the wildfire burning through my blood. The car is already waiting, sleek and black with tinted windows. Laurent pulls open the door, letting me slide in first, then Sébastien. He follows last, sealing us inside a cocoon of leather and shadow.
The moment the door clicks shut, everything snaps. Sébastien’s hands are on me first, threading into my hair as he leans in and captures my mouth with his. His kiss is deep and searching, tasting of chocolate and something darker, something wild. I whimper against him, gripping his jacket as heat floods my veins.
Laurent’s hand slides up my thigh, firm and sure, and I feel him pressing closer from the other side. His mouth finds the curve of my neck, brushing light, teasing kisses against my skin until I am trembling between them.
Sébastien pulls back just enough to let me breathe, his forehead resting against mine as Laurent tilts my chin and claims my lips next. His kiss is different. Rougher. Playful. His teeth graze my lower lip, tugging just enough to make me gasp.
The car bumps along the road, but none of us care. Hands roam, touches lingering, teasing, tasting. By the time we glide into the private garage beneath the penthouse, my body feels like it is humming, wound tight and desperate for more.
The elevator is waiting, its doors opening with a soft chime that seems far too polite for the way we stumble inside.
Laurent pins me against the mirrored wall, the second the doors close. His mouth crashes against mine with a hunger that steals my breath. His hands bracket my hips, holding me still as Sébastien steps behind me, his palms sliding up my arms in a slow, reverent caress.
I arch between them, drunk on the heat, the touches, the unspoken promises in every brush of their bodies against mine. Sébastien’s mouth finds the curve of my shoulder, kissing through the fabric of my dress as Laurent deepens the kiss, coaxing another desperate sound from my throat.
The elevator hums upward, the seconds stretching long and slow. I barely register it when Laurent’s fingers slide up the slit of my dress, brushing the bare skin of my thigh. Or when Sébastien’s hand slips beneath the fall of my hair, cupping the back of my neck with a gentleness that makes my heart ache.
By the time the elevator reaches the penthouse, I am shaking with need, barely aware of anything except them and the way my body burns for more.
The moment the elevator doors open, we spill into the penthouse like a storm breaking free, a tangle of mouths, hands, teeth, and tongues. I barely register the quiet click of the doors sliding shut behind us before Laurent’s mouth is back on mine, hungry and claiming. Sébastien presses against my back, his hands skating along my waist, up my ribs, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of my dress.
Our scents collide and bloom, thick and dizzying in the air. Wild honey, rain, dark chocolate, amber and spice, and underneath it all, the raw sweetness of my slick, soaking through my thighs with every frantic heartbeat. My Omega instincts scream to surrender, to bare my throat, to open my body to them completely.
Sébastien growls low behind me, a sound of pure need. His mouth finds the side of my throat, teeth grazing gently, and my knees nearly buckle. Laurent catches me easily, a wicked laugh rumbling in his chest.
"She’s already melting for us," Laurent purrs against my ear.
Sébastien mutters under his breath, voice rough with need. "Putain, tant pis."
His arms wrap around my waist, and, in one smooth motion, he sweeps me off my feet.
I gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he carries me deeper into the penthouse, past the gleaming living space toward a sprawling nest built in a sunken den. Plush blankets, soft pillows, and rich, luxurious textures spill across the floor in a glorious, decadent heap.
Behind us, Laurent growls low in his throat, a sound that sends a fresh flood of slick dripping down my thighs. Sébastien barks once, a sharp, eager sound full of Omega excitement, urging Laurent to follow.
The moment Sébastien lowers me into the center of the nest, I am surrounded by the heat of them. They close in on me, peeling away jackets, unbuttoning shirts with quick, clumsy fingers. The air grows hotter, thicker, the scent of arousal so potent it is almost a living thing.
I wriggle out of my dress, leaving it pooled somewhere behind me. My panties are soaked, clinging to my slicked skin. I can barely think past the desperate throb between my legs.
Laurent yanks his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside, and my gaze snags on him. His chest is broad, all golden skin and hard muscle, dusted with dark hair. He pushes his trousers down next, and my breath catches hard in my throat.
Because there, heavy and thick standing proud, is his cock. Beautiful. Long. Broad-veined and flushed dark at the tip. But what draws my eye and steals the breath from my lungs is the base.
It is beginning to swell, thickening visibly just beneath the shaft, a bold, unmistakable knot. I have read about them. Heard whispers. Fantasized in the secret, hidden corners of my mind. But nothing could have prepared me for seeing one like this, in the heated flesh and undeniable reality of it.
A hot shiver races down my spine. My body reacts instinctively, aching, slick gathering thick and heavy between my thighs, but my mind stutters, caught between wonder and a flicker of fear.
It looks... overwhelming. Too much. Too intense for someone like me, who has only ever imagined what true Omega surrender might mean. My thighs press together, my hands trembling slightly where they clutch the soft fabric beneath me. The sharp edge of panic rises, unbidden and unwanted, tangling with the molten need twisting low in my belly.
Laurent catches my hesitation instantly. His teasing grin softens, his body going still, giving me the space I do not yet know how to ask for.
Sébastien senses it too. His arms tighten around me, warm and grounding, the steady thrum of his heart against my back pulling me back from the brink.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe, forcing my Omega instincts to settle. I want this. I want them . I just need a moment. I force myself to breathe, grounding against the thundering of my heart. I just need a moment. A single beat to gather myself.
And then, like a spark catching dry tinder, a wicked thought flares to life. If I am going to be claimed by these beautiful, dangerous men, if I am going to surrender to instincts I barely understand, I want to see first. I want to witness their hunger, their passion, to watch them unravel each other before they ever touch me like that.
Heat floods my cheeks, but it is a different kind of fire now. Not fear. Curiosity. Anticipation. Desire. I tilt my head back against Sébastien’s shoulder and look up at him through my lashes, letting a slow, teasing smile curve my lips.
"I want to watch," I whisper, my voice husky with need.
Both of them still instantly, their bodies going tight with tension.
"Watch us do what, ma belle?" Laurent purrs, though his voice is already rough, eager.
I trace my fingers lightly over Sébastien’s chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath my touch.
"I want to watch you make out," I murmur. "I want to see you touch each other. Kiss each other. Lose yourselves a little... for me."
For a moment, the only sound in the room is the sharp, shared intake of breath from both men. The air between us snaps taut, electric and humming with barely restrained hunger.
Sébastien’s hand slides slowly up my thigh, a silent reassurance, even as his gray eyes darken to near black.
"Anything you want, mon c?ur," he whispers against my ear, his accent making the words a velvet caress.
Laurent grins, slow and feral, as he crawls across the nest toward us on his hands and knees. "As you command, princess," he says, voice thick with promise.
And when their mouths crash together a second later, raw and desperate and beautiful, I realize I have never seen anything more devastatingly erotic in my life.
Sébastian
T HE MOMENT ROWAN GIVES the command, something inside me breaks loose. It is not just a want anymore. It is a need. Sharp and blinding. It rips through me, leaving no room for doubt, no space for fear. Only hunger. Only Laurent. Only Rowan.
I crash into him first, our mouths colliding in a kiss that is all teeth and tongues, desperate and raw. His taste floods my senses. Dark chocolate and bourbon wrap around me, rich and heady, cut through with the wild, bittersweet bite of blood orange.
I cannot get close enough. I claw at his clothes, feeling him do the same to mine, our fingers fumbling and frantic, pulling fabric away from flushed skin. My shirt goes first, then his. Our chests slide together, slick with sweat, muscles flexing and straining as we fight for more.
Rowan’s scent surrounds us, thick and sweet, honeysuckle and ripe peaches gone molten under the heat of her arousal. It blends with mine, wild honey and rain with the faintest brush of vanilla, and with Laurent’s darker richness of dark chocolate, bourbon, and blood orange. The air is dense with it, saturated, a perfume so heavy it feels like drowning.
And underneath it all, I smell her slick. Rich and heady, dripping with her need. It coils around my spine, driving my instincts higher, faster. I want to tear her open and bury myself inside her. I want to drown in her scent, in Laurent’s mouth, in the madness of all three of us tangled together.
Laurent pushes me back into the nest, his mouth never leaves mine. He straddles my hips, grinding down against me, and I can feel the press of his cock. It’s thick, hot, leaking against my stomach. His knot is swelling, heavy and urgent against my skin.
I gasp into his mouth when his hands find my waistband, shoving my pants down with an impatient growl. I lift my hips to help, desperate for the relief of skin against skin. The second I am bare, Laurent drops his weight onto me, devouring my mouth again as his hands roam my body, possessive and rough. He palms my ass, squeezing, kneading, his fingers digging deep. His cock drags against mine, slick and burning hot, and I groan into his kiss, writhing under him.
Rowan watches, her scent growing sweeter and heavier by the second, perfuming the nest with the raw edge of her want. I can feel her gaze on us, hungry and greedy and wide-eyed, drinking in every touch, every sound, every desperate gasp that falls from my lips.
Laurent kisses down my jaw, my throat, his teeth scraping lightly against the frantic pulse hammering beneath my skin. He moves lower, licking a slow, filthy stripe down my chest, nipping at my ribs, my hip bones, making me writhe and gasp and curse in broken French.
I reach for him blindly, threading my fingers through his hair, anchoring myself to him as he kisses a path lower, his mouth leaving burning trails along my skin.
My body responds helplessly, slick pooling between my thighs, my own scent blooming stronger in the air. Wild honey and rain saturate the space around us, thick and heavy, joining the molten sweetness of Rowan’s arousal and the darker bite of Laurent’s bourbon and blood orange.
When he slides between my thighs, his hands pushing my legs wider, I let him. I would let him do anything.
"Look at you," he murmurs against my inner thigh, voice thick and reverent. "So perfect. So ready."
His breath ghosts over my cock, already leaking, throbbing against my stomach, and I sob his name, helpless and lost.
The scents of all three of us coil tighter, wrapping around me, drowning me. Honey. Rain. Wild peaches. Smoked bourbon. Slick. Sweat. Lust. Laurent’s bourbon smell gets smokey the more aroused he becomes.
I cannot tell where I end, and they begin anymore. Laurent presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, his mouth so close to where I ache the most, and then he moves up again, dragging his mouth along my belly, my ribs, my throat, claiming every inch of me as his own.
When he kisses me again, it is different. Slower. Deeper. Full of promise. I feel the press of his cock against my ass, hot and heavy and terrifyingly right. His knot is swollen now, firm and demanding against my skin.
Fear flickers through me. Only for a moment. It is not fear of Laurent, or even of what we are about to do. It is the body’s last instinctive hesitation, a single heartbeat of bracing before surrender.
I tighten my fingers in his hair and pull him down into another bruising kiss. I want this. I want him . I break the kiss just long enough to whisper against his lips, voice raw and desperate.
"Take me."
“Are you sure? Because I want nothing more than to sink my cock in this perfect ass,” Laurant says.
“Yes, I need your knot, Alpha.”
He lifts my legs, putting them over his shoulders, before lining the head of his cock with my slick soaked entrance. With one thrust he pushes the head of his cock through the tight ring of muscles in my ass and slides inside me. I moan at the stretch. He’s not a small guy. The slight burn feels delicious once he’s seated inside, to his knot he begins to move.
My eyes roll back in my head as he thrust in and out of me.
“Damn baby, you feel so fucking good around my cock,” Laurant moans.
Suddenly I feel lips wrapped around the head my cock. I know those lips. I open my eyes to the most beautiful sight. Rowan has positioned herself beside us. She’s on her knees with her mouth on my hard cock while Laurent plunders my ass.
The pleasure is intense, perhaps the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt.
“Do you like that baby?” Laurent asks. “Do you like our girls’ sweet lips around your hard cock.”
“Yes,” I pant. “It feels good. Really good.” I babble the rest in incoherent French.
“Rowan, kiss our boy while I work my knot into his perfect ass,” Laurent commands.
“Yes, Alpha.”
I watch through heavy lidded eyes as Rowan crawls up my body. She leans over and brushes her lips against mine. I grab her head, threading my fingers through it, before bringing our lips together in a scorching kiss.
I feel a bit of pressure as Laurent works his knot into my ass. First one side and then another. I almost cum all over myself once he’s fully locked inside me. He moves inches at a time now. Rocking us as his knot holds us in place.
I moan into Rowan’s mouth. She continues to kiss me like I’m the air she breathes. I feel my balls tighten, but I’m not ready to cum yet, so I think about something gross.
It works. Soon I’m wrapped in the heady scent of honeysuckle, cinnamon, nutmeg, the juiciest peaches on the planet wrapped in dark chocolate, blood orange and smokey bourbon. A scent I could bathe in. I want to roll around in it every day. And my Omega agrees.
Laurent
I ’M LYING IN THE NEST , an Omega passed out to either side of me, curled into either side. Watching my Omega’s come apart is perhaps my favorite thing in the world. Better than scoring a hat trick, hell I don’t think a double hat trick would be better than this. Better than being buried inside one Omega while the other watches.
Rowan’s perfume intensified to the point I feel like I’m in a bakery surrounded by peach cobbler. My absolute favorite dessert. My nana made it for me every year for my birthday. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she’d crawled across the nest and taken Sébastian’s perfect cock into her mouth.
My mouth watered as I watched, adding to the pleasure of Sébastian’s tight ass as it strangles my cock. He feels so fucking good wrapped around my thick cock and when they kiss. I almost lost it, right then. Instead, I managed to fuck him while he ate out our girl until she had not one, but three orgasms. He shot his load all over his muscled chest and stomach. That’s when I lost it.
Then she rode Sébastian’s cock while he sucked me off.
After that our girl was too worn out to take my knot and I could tell she was a little apprehensive. She was a Beta most of her life. All things Omega are new and a little intimidating.