Chapter 41 Double Trouble
Double Trouble
~CALE~
The only thing louder than my own heartbeat is the wet, slurping sound of Aurora sucking Luca’s cock—raw and obscene, like someone let loose a pack of feral dogs and told them the only way out is through each other’s throats.
She’s on her fucking knees.
My mind can’t even process it.
Every time I think I’ve hit the limit of what turns me on, this Omega—no, this animal, this disaster-magnet masquerading as a pit crew tech—finds a way to take it further.
Luca’s basically shaking, hand fisted in her hair, jaw locked like he’s trying not to absolutely lose it, but he’s losing it anyway.
Even the way he groans her name—ragged and guttural, not caring who hears—is a shout of defeat.
Aurora’s got him on the ropes, and she knows it.
She’s milking his knot, working the thick swell with both hands, and even though his cock is wrecking her mouth, she just grins around him, tongue flicking up the underside like she’s trying to make him black out.
Then it happens—Luca lets go.
Whole body tense, hips jerking, every sinew straining, and there’s a savage bark of “fuck, right there, don’t stop—” and then he’s flooding her mouth.
Not a neat, polite little spurt—no, it’s a goddamn river, and Aurora takes it all, eyes wild and proud, throat working as she swallows most of it down but lets some of the load pool on her tongue just for the visual.
She pulls back, cocks her head, and actually shows him—shows us—his release, thick and shiny, like a fuck-you trophy that says ‘I win, you lose, better luck next lap.’
She squeezes his knot, massaging it with deliberate pressure.
Luca actually makes a sound—part growl, part whimper, all Alpha wreckage. He wants to fight it, but the biology’s got him and he’s not breaking free.
I’m not letting this moment go to waste.
I lunge forward, hand in the back of Rory’s hair, yanking her up and smashing my mouth over hers before she can even swallow the last of Luca’s come. It should be disgusting, right? Should be gross.
Bullshit—it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done.
Her mouth is hot, slick, full of the taste of Luca and sweat and the fucked-up high of chemicals and bass thumping through the walls.
The kiss isn’t gentle, isn’t anything but war—it’s teeth and tongues and spit, messy and desperate, both of us fighting for top position but neither one letting go.
I bite her lower lip, hard enough to bruise, and she shoves her tongue deeper, daring me to flinch.
I don’t.
I lean into the chaos—let the filth, the mix of Alpha and Omega spit, the dirty sounds we’re making, become the whole fucking world.
We’re wet, glitter-streaked, breathing in each other’s exhaust. Her jaw flexes under my palm, and I can’t stop—don’t want to stop—until she’s limp, panting, and wrecked for anyone but me.
When I finally pull back, there’s a line of drool, thick and obscene, still connecting us.
Her lips are ruined—red, puffy, glitter everywhere.
I’m so hard it hurts.
“Good girl,” I say, and holy hell, my voice is gone—like gravel, whiskey, and self-inflicted pain. “That’s how you do it. Ruin an Alpha so bad he can’t walk for a week.”
She shudders.
I don’t let go of her hair.
If anything, I twist harder, yanking her head to the side so I can bury my mouth in the junction of neck and shoulder.
I don’t go gentle—I suck hard, right above her collarbone, then nip at the skin to leave a mark no amount of makeup could cover.
Her scent is everywhere now—smoked vanilla, gasoline, and slick, all of it mixing with my own burnt cedar and the lingering burn of Luca’s storm-rain and leather.
The room is thick with it—alpha, omega, absolutely nothing in between.
Outside, the music surges. Bass shakes the floor, bleeds in through the walls, tries to remind us that there’s a world beyond this nest of pillows and sweat and fucked-up desire.
I want to make this last forever…
I drag my mouth up right behind her ear, voice dropping to a threat and a promise at once.
“Now here’s what’s going to happen, Trouble. I’m going to spread out right here, and you’re going to show me what that mouth can do while Luca fucks you from behind. Think you can handle that? Think you can take both of us at once, Omega?”
She doesn’t even pretend to play coy.
She nods, desperate, wild-eyed. Her whimper is so raw and high-pitched I swear it could shatter carbon fiber. She wants this—the submission, the attention, being the center of a storm made of two Alphas who’d risk everything just to see her fall apart.
God, I could get addicted to this.
I manhandle her into position, pawing at her shoulders and guiding her down between my legs.
I drop back into the couch like a king—no, like a fucking god—and spread my thighs, letting my cock hang heavy and full in front of her.
I don’t bother hiding how hard I am. Why hide anything?
This is what the world wants to see—this is the real story, the one nobody but us will ever understand.
Aurora crawls up on all fours, hands trembling a little, but more from anticipation than any kind of fear.
Luca’s behind her, still dazed, shirt tugged up, tattoos gleaming in the low light.
The room itself is a hallucination—purple and cyan and flashes of sickly gold rolling off the walls, washing over our bodies in dirty, moving shadows.
The whole place smells like sex and pride and the way a finish line tastes when you know you stole victory out from under your rival’s nose.
Pillows everywhere—blue, black, some metallic, all soft and sticky with sweat and glitter.
If someone opened the door right now, they’d see a pit stop unlike anything in the rulebook.
I fist the base of my cock, tapping it against her cheek just to see if she’ll flinch.
She doesn’t. She wants it.
Needs it more than air.
She wraps both hands around me—palms slick, grip better than any race glove I’ve ever worn—and leans in, licking a stripe up the underside like she’s testing the limits of what I’ll tolerate before I lose my mind.
A challenge. A dare.
She sucks me in slow, lips sliding down my length with perfect, wet pressure, and the sound—holy fuck, the sound—makes me want to howl.
Behind her, Luca is regaining his composure. I see him lining up, hands on Aurora’s hips, fingers digging in so hard I’m genuinely surprised there’s not blood.
He slides into her in one, brutal stroke.
Aurora moans around my cock—deep, shattering, the vibration going straight up my spine. My thighs flex, my balls draw up tight, and I swear if this goes on too long I might actually pass out.
But I refuse to be the first to break.
I look over Aurora’s head—catch Luca’s eye. The bastard grins, slow and mean, and begins to fuck into her with a pace that’s instantly ruthless, like he wants to split her in two. Every thrust rocks her forward, drives her mouth deeper on my cock.
She takes it. Takes everything.
Mouth tight, tongue working, throat swallowing me down again and again. I bury a hand in her hair, holding her steady, using her for leverage as I start to move my hips in counter-rhythm to Luca’s. I want maximum sensation—I want every muscle in her jaw to remember who’s in charge here.
The world narrows to heat and filth and the sound of her choking sweetly on my cock while getting fucked from behind by an Alpha who only knows one gear: destruction.
God, it’s better than any race victory, any podium, any champagne shower.
Aurora’s eyes water, but she powers through, locking in on my gaze every time she draws back for breath. She *loves* this. Loves being used, loves the way we compete to see who can break her first. She’s the only Omega I’ve ever known who can take this much and beg for more.
My scent is everywhere, riding high over even the sharp bite of Luca’s.
Burnt cedar, coffee, raw amber, and between all that—her. Smoked vanilla and gasoline, cut with the high sweetness of Omega slick and the promise of surrender.
I let myself enjoy the show.
I keep my hands in her hair, feeding her my cock in long, greedy strokes, while Luca ramps up behind her—his hips slapping against her ass, the sound echoing off the lazy furniture like a starter pistol.
Every time she makes a sound, he answers with a sharp thrust or a filthy word—“Take it, Omega, take all of it, let them know who you belong to.” She doesn’t resist. She never did.
She’s a mess—slick dripping down her thighs, her ass flushed from earlier, body arched in a perfect line that makes me want to paint her blue and gold and call her the world’s fastest car.
I feel my climax building—tight and volcanic, nothing slow about it.
I grit my teeth, brace both feet against the floor, and ride it out, using her mouth for what it’s worth while I lock eyes with Luca, both of us grinning like the devils we are.
But I don’t come yet.
No, I want to see her break first—I want to watch the moment her entire body shudders, want to *know* that it was me and Luca together that did it.
“Such a fucking good girl,” I pant, working her mouth a little rougher, feeling my balls slap against her chin. “Greedy Omega, you like this? Like being used by your Alphas?”
She moans around me—high-pitched, wrecked, so close to the edge she’s barely hanging on.
Luca shifts his grip, wrapping a tattooed arm around Aurora’s waist and hauling her back even harder. The sound of it—the collision of skin, the slap, the grunts—drives the whole thing off the rails.
She’s gone.
Orgasm hits her like a crash—body shaking, thighs clenching, breath stuttering. The suction on my cock goes wild, desperate, and I can’t stop now, not even if I wanted to.
I let myself go, hips jerking as I shoot down her throat. She swallows every drop, even as some leaks past her lips, pooling at the corner of her mouth. I pull out just enough to watch it gather—white and messy, another trophy for the night.