Chapter Sixteen
Luke
I have walked this path countless times, each step so familiar that it has become second nature. The routine is etched into my memory as if the moments themselves were as familiar as the back of my hand.
Over the years, I have cared for Leila during her heat, learning the signs as intimately as my own breath: the way she begins to sweat, the tremors that wrack her body, the dizzying weakness that overtakes her. Yet, I have always remained calm, a steady presence amid her turmoil.
But today, Henry’s presence introduces a different kind of air. His reactions to her alter the atmosphere, making it heavier and more volatile, and I find myself less composed than usual.
From the moment he stepped out of the car, striding toward us with that easy smile and effortless charm, I could sense the shift in him.
A darkness clouded his eyes, his cheeks flushed with an unnatural heat, and his movements held a certain urgency.
Leila’s pheromones were working their inevitable influence, drawing out a primal response in him.
Even as he caught her when she stumbled, his touch gentle yet unyielding, there was no mistaking the fierce hunger that flickered behind his concern.
As we entered the house, Henry carrying Leila in his arms, his hold on her unmistakably possessive, my mind raced with the echo of Henry’s words: “You can have us both, you know.” The phrase loops endlessly in my thoughts, each repetition deepening my disbelief.
I hadn’t anticipated such a proposition, not in the least. Henry had been very supportive, encouraging me to confess my true feelings to Leila.
It was a gesture I had appreciated more than I could express.
Yet, even in my most hopeful imagining, the best I had dared to wish for was a role on the sidelines, an observer of their love.
The idea that he would invite me, that he would offer me the chance to take her with him, is something I had never considered.
My heart beats faster, a mixture of excitement and overwhelming gratitude surging through me.
Could his words have meant even more? Could he be offering the possibility of something deeper and a place within a family unit, a chance to stand alongside him as one of Leila’s mates?
The thought brings an involuntary smile to my lips as we walk.
The notion of being part of a family unit with the woman I have loved for so long fills me with a quiet, aching joy.
But even now, I know I must temper my hopes.
Henry’s generosity is extraordinary. The simpler, more expected course would have been for him to discard me altogether.
I am not entitled to anything; I am, after all, merely her bodyguard and a Beta at that.
Leila is an Omega of unimaginable strength, and he is a powerful Alpha.
They both hail from important families, something I cannot say about myself.
That he would offer to share her with me is an act of kindness beyond what I could have ever hoped for.
To dream of a family unit, to imagine myself as more than a third wheel, feels like an indulgence, a step too far.
I must be careful not to bite off the whole hand when offered a finger.
As soon as we reach her room, Henry sets her on the bed. She thrashes from side to side, her heat almost overpowering her, combined with the strong pheromones Henry has let out.
He is so stirred up, his mood darkening as he kneels beside her.
He growls deeply as he fists his shirt and tears it up.
And then, he just stands there, topless, his muscles taut and defined, his gaze cold yet laced with unmistakable desire.
For a long, breathless moment, he simply watches her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her on the bed.
His lips curl into a dangerous smirk as if savoring every detail and quiver of her body, overwhelmed by the heat that consumes her.
Slowly, he steps closer, his hands finding the zipper at the back of her dress.
With deliberate care, he begins to unzip it, his touch somehow soothing the frantic energy that had gripped her.
As the fabric falls away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, the glint in his eye sharpens, a look of recognition for what he now beholds.
She is bare, her skin gleaming in the dim light, and I can’t help but smile at the sight.
This body, so perfect in its form, is one I have worshiped for so long.
And now, seeing its effect on him, I feel a strange sense of camaraderie, as if he, too, has come to understand the depths of her allure. Leila is intoxicating.
He leans in, his lips hovering just above hers, teasing.
But the need between them is too great, too urgent to be restrained.
In an instant, they are lost in each other, their mouths crashing together in a desperate kiss.
His arms envelop her, and her hands frantically explore his back, his neck, as if trying to pull him closer and merge with him completely.
The room is filled with the wet, eager sounds of their lips and tongues, a symphony of unrestrained passion.
When Henry finally pulls back, Leila gazes up at him, her lips glistening with the mingled evidence of their shared desire. There is a darkness in his voice as he speaks, a commanding edge.
“Open your mouth,” he orders.
Leila complies with an eagerness that is almost reverent. She parts her lips as if willing them to open in the most perfect way, as if her very being depends on pleasing him.
“Now, stick out your tongue.”
Again, she obeys, thrusting her tongue forward. Henry leans down, his mouth opening to take her in. He licks at her tongue, lapping at it like a man starved, his need undeniable.
Moments pass, and Henry withdraws, leaving Leila in a state of desperate yearning, her eyes glazed with desire.
Her mouth remains open, tongue still extended, now glistening with a trail of saliva that spills from her lips and trickles down her chin.
The sight is both raw and mesmerizing, and I find myself frozen, captivated by the intensity of it all.
“That’s a good girl,” Henry murmurs, his voice low and possessive as he caresses her cheek. “Keep your mouth open, just like that.” Leila nods, her compliance immediate as she looks at him with an almost worshipful intensity.
He undresses slowly, his trousers falling away to reveal his arousal, stiff, veined, and pulsing with anticipation.
A spark of excitement flashes in Leila’s eyes as she sits on the bed, her posture submissive yet eager, mouth agape, tongue still outstretched.
The drool continues to flow, a steady stream that now coats her perfect breasts, making them glisten in the dim light.
Henry leans over her, his presence commanding as he hovers above her. He kisses her softly on her forehead before straightening his stance once more.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Henry cups her chin, his eyes burning, and guides his throbbing cock into her wet, inviting mouth. He groans as he pushes forward, the sensation overwhelming him as her moist warmth envelops him completely.
Leila responds with ease, taking him in fully, her head moving in a steady rhythm as she works her mouth along his length. The wet, rhythmic sounds of her sucking fill the room, mingling with Henry’s deep groans of pleasure.
Watching them, the rawness of their connection, the way she responds to him, and how he commands her stirs me up.
I am so engrossed in the scene before me that I hardly notice the pressure building in my own trousers, the hardness pressing insistently against the fabric.
The first slickness of precum dampens my tip, and I tilt slightly, the movement drawing Henry’s attention.
His eyes shift to me, dark with a mix of authority and hunger. “Luke,” he commands, his voice firm yet laced with desire. “Come here. Finger her pussy.”
I’m slightly taken aback by his tone. Gone is the playfulness in his demeanor.
I know the room must be thick with pheromones, and I can tell that he is doused in their effects right now.
His eyes are no longer light brown but dark chocolate.
He is speaking to me as an Alpha now, one sharing his mate on his terms.
I move towards them slowly, Leila’s eyes tracking my every step.
As I approach, she parts her legs, a silent invitation, her posture an open plea for the attention she craves.
Henry stands beside her, his presence dominant as she turns her head to the left, her lips wrapped around his cock with a hunger that borders on desperation.
Kneeling before her, I take a moment to caress her wet center, my fingers grazing over the slickness that has pooled between her thighs, a combination of the saliva dripping from her mouth and the wet heat that speaks to the depth of her desire.
Her skin trembles under my touch, and I can feel the pulse of her lust in the taut muscles beneath my hand.
I flick my finger lightly over her clit, watching as her body reacts, a shiver running through her that fuels my own excitement.
There is something intoxicating about seeing her in the throes of pleasure, knowing that I am the one drawing these responses from her.
I press my middle finger into her slowly, feeling the warmth of her engulf me as I begin to move back and forth, slow but firm.
Her hips start to shift, a silent appeal for more, and I oblige, adding a second finger and pushing deeper into her.
Her moans, though muffled by Henry’s cock, grow louder and more insistent as I quicken my pace.
My fingers work her hard and fast, each thrust met by the eager movements of her hips as if her body is guiding me, urging me on.
Her moans become frantic, her entire body a tense knot of impending release, and I know she is close.