Chapter 18 Golden Boy #5
I’d never thought I’d develop a kink for a woman who looked at me like she already owned the scoreboard. Clearly I did.
She moved lower, settling between my thighs on her knees with the same deliberate poise she probably used to center a spin. Her tongue flicked out, teasing the head of my cock in one slow, wet circle that dragged a groan from deep in my chest.
The sensation was electric—hot mouth, cooler air, the faint scrape of teeth she kept just on the right side of too much. Then she took me in, inch by deliberate inch, lips stretching around my girth until the wet heat of her throat closed around me and my vision blurred at the edges.
Luka was standing behind her now, one hand rubbing slow circles along the elegant line of her back—encouraging, grounding, the touch of a man who knew exactly how to keep an Omega in heat from tipping over the edge too soon.
His palm traced the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips, the curve of her ass like he was reminding her body it was safe to let go.
It was strangely intimate to witness. Not just sex.
Not just heat-driven fucking. This was Luka taking control in the quiet way that let her stay in charge—knowing she needed this release to tame the fire raging through her system, yet also sensing the microscopic hesitation that came from me still being, technically, a stranger.
This would break the ice.
And I was the lucky bastard getting to enjoy her mouth before I’d earned a single second of it.
She worked me like she’d been studying my body for years instead of minutes. Tongue swirling on the upstroke, throat relaxing on the down, one hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach while the other braced on my thigh for leverage.
The suction was perfect—tight, rhythmic, pulling me deeper with every bob of her head. I fought to keep my breathing steady, but the sounds she made around me—soft, wet, hungry—were unraveling every thread of composure I’d ever possessed.
Luka’s voice cut through the haze, low and velvet-rough.
“Keep going, Diamond. Show him how an Omega delights her Alphas. You want a pack that appreciates flawless work, yes?”
She hummed around my cock in answer.
The vibration shot straight through me like a slap shot to the chest. My hips jerked involuntarily; I bit my bottom lip hard enough to taste copper.
Fuck. That mouth was sinful. Precision-engineered.
The same control she used to land throw quads translated into the way she took me—measured, relentless, never once losing the rhythm even as her own body trembled with need.
Luka smirked behind her.
His free hand slid lower, fingers teasing through the slick coating her thighs before he parted her folds and circled her clit with deliberate slowness.
The moan she let out around my length was muffled but devastating.
Her hips lifted, chasing his touch, presenting herself like an offering while she kept sucking me with single-minded focus.
Just the mental image—Luka sliding into her from behind while she kept working me—was enough to push me right to the edge. My balls drew tight. My abs locked. I was breathing hard through my nose, fighting the climax barreling toward me like a breakaway with no defense left.
Luka noticed, of course, the man read trajectories for a living.
He didn’t delay.
One smooth thrust and he was inside her—deep, steady, the wet sound of it cutting through the room like a blade on fresh ice.
Octavia’s moan vibrated around my cock again, louder this time, her rhythm faltering for half a second before she found it again.
Luka set a pace that matched hers exactly—hard, fast, the slap of his hips against her ass syncing with the bob of her head until the three of us moved like one machine built for mutual destruction.
I couldn’t hold back.
The climax hit me hard and fast—white-hot, blinding, ripping a guttural grunt from my throat as I spilled into her waiting mouth.
Hot pulses against the back of her throat, one after another, until my vision whited out and my fingers fisted the sheets like they were the only thing keeping me on the planet.
She took every drop.
When she finally slid off with a wet pop, she tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and showed me—tongue coated, my release pooling there like liquid proof of surrender. Then she swallowed. Deliberate. Slow. Eyes locked on mine the entire time.
Fucking hell. I’ve never seen anything hotter in my life.
Luka’s smirk deepened, the sharp cut of it almost cruel as he planted his palm against the base of her skull, guiding Octavia’s gaze—her entire focus—back to my face.
The way he did it made it clear this wasn’t about humiliation or showboating.
It was about letting her know that she was seen, anchored, and that neither of us was going to look away when she came apart.
His other hand—long, goalie-strong, but preternaturally gentle—slid up her neck with a possessiveness that read as both a claim and a cradle.
I could see her pulse beating wild against the flat of his thumb as he pressed, not tight enough to hurt, just enough to remind her that she could let go, that someone else was taking the wheel.
Behind her, Luka’s hips snapped forward with the same relentless force he brought to the penalty kill: controlled violence, all that Scandinavian discipline weaponized into pure, feral drive.
The rhythm changed. Harder, faster, the slap of skin on skin echoing around us in staccato bursts.
Each collision sent a ripple through Octavia’s body, her back arching, her nails digging crescent moons into my thigh where she’d braced herself for leverage.
She never broke eye contact with me, not even when her vision started to go glassy and her lips parted around an unformed, hungry moan.
Luka’s control was absolute, but his focus never left her.
I watched the way his jaw flexed, the way his eyes—storm-dark, almost black in the low light—refused to blink as he fucked her through whatever new, overwhelming sensation he was chasing.
It was astonishing, the care and the ferocity somehow coexisting; not a hair out of place, but also like he’d destroy the world to keep her pinned right there.
The sound of it—the wet, obscene pulse of her pussy milking his cock, the involuntary grunt Luka let loose every time he bottomed out, the high, urgent whimper Octavia made as she worked her mouth and tongue on me—built a pressure in my chest that had nothing to do with the remnants of my own orgasm and everything to do with the raw, animal beauty of what they were doing together.
I’d never felt more wanted. Or more fucking powerless.
Luka held her throat in that anchor, and with every thrust, he drew a brighter flush across her skin, until she looked illuminated from the inside out.
The hunger in my gut came back full force, and I found myself reaching down, thumbing the corner of her lips as she worked my cock, smearing a bit of my own release across her chin for no reason except that I wanted to mark her, too.
She moaned, and the vibration nearly undid me a second time.
Luka leaned forward, his mouth at her ear, and murmured something in Russian—low and intimate, the kind of secret only long-time linemates could share.
Whatever he said made her clench, her breath stuttering like someone had run a skate blade right through her composure.
He smiled, softer now, and kissed her shoulder right where the scent gland pulsed hot and slick beneath the surface.
The air tasted like ozone and sex and the heat-smoke of burned sugar.
I watched, helpless and hypnotized, as Luka’s hand tightened just slightly at her throat and he pulled her back against him, using her body like a lever to meet his every thrust. He didn’t look away from me, either.
He wanted me to see it all—the way she surrendered, the way he caught every piece of her, the way she was held absolutely safe.
Octavia came with a broken cry that vibrated through every inch of me still recovering on the bed. Her whole body shook, thighs trembling, slick gushing around Luka’s cock as he drove her through it.
Only when she started to come down did he slow, leaning over her back, lips brushing her ear.
“I’m only letting you taunt these Alphas because of your heat, yes?”
She nodded, breathless, eyes glassy.
“And when your heat calms,” he continued, voice rough with possession, “you’re gonna get to know them. And if they don’t treat you right, they’re fucked and never get to taste this pussy again. Yes?”
Another nod. Smaller this time. Almost shy beneath the heat haze.
He forced her chin up gently until their eyes met. “Say it.”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
He kissed her—deep, claiming, the kind of kiss that marked territory without needing words. Then he pulled out, slapped her ass once with a sharp, affectionate crack, and stepped back.
A low whistle cut through the afterglow.
Maddox stood in the doorway, arms crossed, dark-blue hair tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. His cedar-and-ember scent rolled in with him—smoky, grounded, carrying the faint ozone crackle of restrained power.
“You’re one overprotective, possessive Alpha, huh,” he noted quietly, but the smirk softening his mouth took any sting out of it. “Good to see a respectable one in our presence.”
Luka chuckled, low and easy, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist.
“If you think threatening my Omega not to fuck random Alphas I barely know is respectable, I think you need to go analyze your ruthless leader sulking upstairs.”
Maddox’s chuckle was softer, almost fond.
“Yeah. He’s gonna lock himself up there the whole time.”
Octavia pouted.
The expression was genuine—bottom lip pushed out, storm-gray eyes suddenly wide and vulnerable in a way that made every Alpha in the room straighten instinctively. Her heat emotions were cresting again, swinging from confident siren to uncertain girl in the space of a heartbeat.
“Does he not like me?”
All eyes turned to her. The silence stretched for half a second before Maddox stepped forward—broad shoulders cutting through the charged air like he was skating into a defensive zone.
He leaned down, one large hand cupping her cheek with surprising gentleness, thumb brushing the flush on her cheekbone.
“Kael definitely likes you. So much so that he has to tame himself. Because when he likes things, he gives them his all. And remember—we have the Olympics to qualify for. We need our captain available just in case we’re summoned.”
He smiled—sweet, steady, the kind of smile that made you believe the world could be simple if you let it.
“Maddox, by the way.”
The pout softened. She wrinkled her nose, inhaling deeply, then muttered, “You smell good.”
Maddox’s grin widened, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Just like how good you’re making this entire house smell with that arousal of yours.” He paused, voice dropping to something warmer, more intimate. “Is our Omega content?”
She blushed—then shook her head.
“No.”
His grin turned playful.
“Then tell me, Octavia, was it? What does our Omega want next, hmm?”
The idea of getting to watch how this was going to turn out dared to make me excited.