48. Nora
48
Nora
"Nora, you really need to calm down," Blaine insists as he follows me up the stairs. "It's going to be fine. Our outfits will not be looked at that closely."
I spin on my toes, eyes shooting daggers at my Alpha. "Has telling someone to calm down ever worked, Blaine? Really."
It's been three months since he and the rest of my pack were arrested on the front step of our home. The pretrial hearing did not go our way, but at least they've been out on bail while we wait for the trial.
And now he's trying to convince me that it's not a big deal that his red tie got a stain on it this morning at breakfast.
It is a big deal.
"Of course, they will be looked at! You may be on trial, but my competency as an Omega is also being judged. You were supposed to wear red. That was your color for the day. Now I have to find something else that fits the balance, or everything will look strange!"
I can recognize that I may be overreacting just a little bit, but while I have learned so much about myself these past few months and have begun to truly explore the line between who I am and who I was programmed to be, one thing that hasn't been lost is my desire for order. It's not about being the Perfect Omega. There is a comfort in knowing what is expected or what the outcome of a decision is going to be. It makes me feel safe.
And I don't feel safe right now. I feel like my world is crumbling, like I am teetering on the edge of oblivion, just two steps away from being swallowed whole.
The thing I like most about the world is that everything and everyone has a place, and my favorite place to be is taking care of my Alphas. Helping them present the best face to the jury is the least I can do for the trouble I have brought to their doorstep. They'll tell me I can't blame myself, and I don't, not really. But that doesn't change the fact that if I wasn't here, they wouldn't be going through this media circus of a trial.
I fear that I'm losing myself to worry. I smooth my hands down the front of my dress, practicing the breathing techniques my therapist taught me.
Inhale. Hold one, two, three.
Exhale.
Inhale. Hold one, two, three.
Exhale.
Blaine notices what I'm doing immediately, as they all do, and winces, pulling me into his arms while sending feelings of reassurance through our bond. "I'm sorry, honey," he whispers into my hair. "I know how important it is to you that we present a cohesive look. I should have had breakfast before I got dressed. I am sorry I discounted your feelings."
I wrap my arms around his waist, sinking into his embrace with a deep sigh. Sometimes, I feel like I have been set adrift, flailing in the open sea, looking for a life raft. When I get that way, one of my men always manages to find me and bring me back.'
That's not to say it's been easy these past few months. Even though the men are out on bail, we still can't go anywhere because of their ankle bracelets. Joey has done his best to keep Bea's Kitchen running while Chase yells and dictates over the phone. I was trying to help out at Alphamatic, but unfortunately, after two shifts, word got out, and the media tried to crash into the gym.
All of that combined means we are on top of each other all the time, and our pack bond has become quite stressed. It's a bunch of live wires within my chest, proving that we're all teetering on the edge.
Releasing Blaine and entering his closet, I grab a forest green tie and hold it out to him. "This one, please." He puts it on without a complaint, and I straighten the knot. "Good. Back downstairs with the others, please." He gives me a kiss on the cheek and slips out of the room, giving me a few moments to breathe deeply before I head down to the others.
I get intercepted on my way out of his room by a pair of large arms wrapped around my waist. "Hello, wife," Joey purrs in my ear.
At Alicia's recommendation, Joey and I got married at the courthouse as soon as the Alphas were out on bail. It's another layer of protection to keep Dr. Greene's hands off of me. One day, we'll have a big ceremony, but it's a long way off.
I sink into the embrace of my Beta. "Husband, are you trying to distract me?"
His lips trail up the side of my neck, nipping lightly at my earlobe. "Is it working?"
"Kind of," I answer honestly, feeling heat grow in my lower belly and slick pool in my panties. "But we don't have time."
"What do you have left to do before we go?" He drags the zipper down on the back of my dress, pushing it off my shoulders and letting it pool on the ground. We're in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see us, but none of my men mind an audience.
I hum at the sensation of his large, calloused fingers as they trace down my arms and across my belly. "I have to…" A kiss on my neck. "I need to…" A tight grip on my breast.
"Everything is done. Everyone is dressed. Everyone has eaten. You're testifying today. You need to relax." He pulls me backward into his room, spinning me and laying me on his plaid sheets. He's not dressed in his court clothes, instead just wearing his white undershirt and black boxers, but he still manages to look like a king as he stands over me. "Let me help you, little bird."
I whimper, squeezing my knees together. My husband isn't a fan of that, instead using his hands to wrench my legs apart as he stares at my white lace panties. He drops to his knees, the sight of which is an incredibly heady feeling. This man is larger than life and is on his knees before me, an Omega.
Joey runs his hands up my inner thighs, wrapping his fingers under the sides of the panties and pulling them down gently. I appreciate the care he's taking and removing them. I'm over having to replace panties. Chase and Blaine get too eager and rip them constantly.
"Little bird, are you going to let me help you?" he asks, seeking my enthusiastic consent.
"Yes, sir." My voice is breathy, and my chest heaves with anticipation of what is to come.
His smile grows predatory as his eyes darken. "Good girl. Close your eyes, and don't make a sound." A broad swipe of his tongue across my center has me curling my toes, and I'm barely able to stop a strangled sound from escaping me.
Joey wraps his arms under my thighs and yanks me closer to the edge of the bed before returning his mouth to my clit, licking and sucking in no discernible pattern. With my eyes closed, my other senses are heightened, and I can hear the Alphas chatting downstairs, smell the fresh laundry scent I've come to associate with Joey and feel the comfortable flannel of his sheets under my gripping hands.
And when Joey slides a broad finger inside me, I can feel that down my spine, stoking a fire inside me that longs to burst out. He sucks on my clit, scraping it with his teeth, and I whine, the sensation too much to handle. It's so quick, my impending orgasm, that I feel completely unmoored. His finger strokes the spot inside me that causes my vision to white out, and his tongue flattens as it drags across the sensitive nerves between my thighs. The two combined have me panting and moaning as I writhe beneath him.
"Shh, birdie, what did I say? You have to be quiet."
"Please, sir," I whisper, panting as he continues to thrust a finger inside me lazily. "I need to come. Please."
As soon as I say the words, Joey removes himself from me, leaving me empty and shuddering with desire. I keep my eyes squeezed tightly shut, and I have to imagine he's standing and staring down at me. I feel his gaze like a brand across my body. My legs hang over the side of the bed, and I struggle not to adjust myself.
If he wanted me to move, he'd tell me or move me himself.
Which is what he does. My legs are lifted by arms under my knees, and before I can even wonder what is happening next, Joey plunges inside of me, and I cry out at the shock.
"Birdie, are you trying to earn a punishment?" He chuckles darkly. "Do I need to gag you?"
I shake my head, rolling my lips in and bracing myself as he pulls out and thrusts back in. Joey may not have a knot, but he fills me up plenty, and the beautiful stretch between my legs promises I'll bring him with me on the witness stand today.
He puts my legs together, throwing them over one broad shoulder and picking up his pace. The angle is so deep, the pace so punishing, that I cry out inadvertently.
At least I've kept my eyes closed.
"Alright, little bird. I guess you've got to be gagged," he chastises. He pulls out, and I groan loudly at the loss. I'm already in trouble for making noises, no need to hide them anymore.
The bed moves around me, and a hand grabs me on the chin, roughly yanking my face sideways. His thumb pries my mouth open, reaching deep into my throat to push down on the back of my tongue. I hum around the digit before it's pulled out, and I feel the blunt, salty head of a cock push past my lips.
Before my brain registers that I don't taste myself on it, I feel Joey thrust into my pussy, and I let out of muffled noise of surprise. "Keep your eyes closed, little bird, or you'll lose your gag."
Well, that would be a travesty.
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, not wanting to give up the feeling of one of my Alphas fucking into my mouth at such a punishing pace. Hands feed into my hair that now will need to be restyled, pulling me closer to the Alpha and making me take him all the way down my throat. I swallow around him, and I hear an exclamation of pleasure, but I can't place the voice.
Not that it really matters.
Joey's continuing his steady pace, his thumb circling my clit with every thrust. The sensory overload from the way my body is being used and pleasured makes me feel like I am floating above myself. I feel the stress, the concern, of the day separate from the rest of me, floating above me like a layer that can be peeled off.
And together, they do. My men pull off those negative emotions piece by piece, stroke by stroke, thrust by thrust, leaving me quivering beneath them. Every sound from the three of us swirls together in brilliant colors reminiscent of playing the violin, our own symphony of pleasure.
A thrust deep into my throat brings my nose to the curled hairs at the base of the cock that's in my mouth, and I smell the comforting scent of rosin.
Nolan.
My lead Alpha groans, and a final deep thrust has him filling my throat with his warm, salty release. He slides out slowly, and as he does, Joey pinches my clit and slams deeply into me, leading me to cry out loudly as my release washes over me. At the same time, I feel Joey thicken and release within me.
I wince at the noise and slap a hand over my mouth, but the Alpha and Beta just chuckle. "I was having you be quiet so the others didn't bust in here. Turns out Nolan has the best hearing in the house," Joey says as he pulls out of me.
Opening my eyes, I squint as I adjust to the atrocious overhead lighting in the room. I need to get Joey a lamp. The first thing I see is Nolan, grinning like a cat that got the canary, tucking his shirt in and adjusting his silver and blue striped tie. He smiles sheepishly, like he's worried I'll chastise him for wrinkling his clothes.
I probably would if I hadn't just had such a great orgasm.
Joey appears with a warm towel that he drags between my legs, cleaning up the evidence of our tryst. He guides my panties up my legs and then holds up my dress. It was resting on the back of his reading chair, so Nolan must have picked it up and brought it in with him. The two of them help me step into the A-line dress before zipping it up.
The pack had this dress custom-made for me, and it is the best thing anyone has ever done for me. The dress is largely black, but there are birds embroidered in it with lemon yellow thread, and bows on the shoulders match the thread perfectly. I worried it was too casual for today, but Alicia said it's important that the jury sees me as a person, not the Perfect Omega, so a dress with personality is a good choice.
After a quick touchup of my makeup and fixing my sex-mussed hair, I slide into white pumps, put on my white hoop earrings, and adorn my hand with my simple, gold wedding band. To me, I look like I'm going to a garden party, but I am going to trust our lawyer, even if it makes me nervous.
By the time I'm done, Joey and Nolan have joined the other Alphas downstairs. Before I turn the corner into the living room, I hear a lot of jealous grumbling towards Joey and Nolan.
A wide, giddy smile stretches across my face as I see my men lined up, and I flood our connection with love and approval. All of them are wearing classic, well-tailored white button-ups as a base, but that's where the similarities in their outfits stop.
Joey has a leather jacket and the top button of his shirt undone, and he's wearing black slacks and combat boots that I shined this morning. He's not on trial, so he gets to be a bit more casual, but he still looks dapper, and he took the time to condition and trim his beard.
For Nolan, his silver and blue striped tie is joined with a navy blue blazer, khakis, and cognac penny loafers. The fitness-conscious Alpha's muscles stretch the limits of his clothes, and his freshly buzzed head and clean shave make him look quite dangerous. I don't think anyone would realize what a softy lies behind those dark eyes.
It was a fight, but I managed to get Chase in a tie, a satin black one, with a black blazer, black pants, and a shiny black belt and shoes. He almost changed when Blaine said he looked like he should be going door to door, but I managed to talk him down. I trimmed his hair, but the roots are still dark, and the tips bleached white. I could have bleached the whole head, but at this point I don't think he'd look like Chase if I did.
Levi was the most agreeable when it came to clothing choices. I think my sweet, cozy Alpha doesn't have it in him to push back against me. I put him in a houndstooth tweed suit, something I know he's comfortable in, with classic brown loafers and a maroon bow tie. I'm not sure why, but I cannot picture Levi in a classic tie with a Windsor knot. No, my sweet, leather and spice scented Alpha makes a bowtie look effortlessly cool.
And even though Blaine messed up his original tie, which I recognize now that I definitely overreacted about, he looks sharp. He looks like he could be a movie star, a heartthrob in a gray blazer and forest green tie with black slacks and a pair of black smoking loafers. His dark, shaggy hair has been slicked back, and his crooked smile makes my knees quiver in spite of my recent rendezvous.
All of my men are so different from one another and from what I was always told a pack should be. Pack Sloane is not at all what my mother or Dr. Greene would have called the Perfect Pack.
But looking at them now, ready to face a potential prison sentence if it means keeping me safe, it is so glaringly obvious that they are perfect for me.