Chapter Nineteen BLUFF #2
“My perfect princess,” I croon, thrusting in just hard enough to make her squirm. “So pretty and sweet, I feel kind of bad that I’m fucking her so hard.”
“Oh, never apologize for that,” she manages, but I can see the effort it’s taking her to stay focused, and I drop the teasing.
I keep my strokes long and slow, watching every flicker on her face as she starts climbing to another peak.
My cock is drunk on her slick, the skin so tight and hot, I have to grit my teeth to hold back the eruption.
“Bluff,” she moans, her hands lifting above her head, her eyes lost to her bliss. “I need your knot, Alpha.”
“Here it comes, princess.”
She hisses as it catches on her rim, already stretched taut and tender from taking Pitt’s knot.
I’m vaguely aware of him rolling onto his side, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of his mate speared on my cock.
He nudges Wings awake, the omega going from sleep to full awareness in the blink of an eye.
He’s clearly got tunnel vision, his attention latching straight onto Abbie as her hands flail, looking for an anchor.
He scoots across the bed before her frustrated cry can leave her lips, his fingers catching hers.
The look on her face is sweet relief, especially since my knot is pushing inside her, stretching her to the limit.
Wings drops to her side, their hands still entwined as he whispers something in her ear.
I watch them both as she falls over the edge, his mouth pressed to her throat as she gasps out her pleasure.
But then my eyes slam shut, my own climax rushing at me like a freight train.
My knot is plugged tight, my bond lit up with so much sensation, I have to brace my knees to stay upright.
It’s blinding light and pulsing warmth, all wrapped in the sweet scent of my mate’s release.
I don’t know how I get into bed, just that I’m suddenly on my side with my knot still buried deep inside her.
Wings is brushing back her sweaty hair, dropping kisses on her cheeks while Pitt pulls a fuzzy blanket over both of us.
Abbie’s still milking me, taking every willing drop from my body, but I can feel sleep stealing over me.
I want more, I want this forever, but between one shuddering breath and the next, I’m out.
I wake to crust in my swollen eye and fresh coffee teasing my nose.
I try to blink the first away, but I’m too distracted by the second.
I rarely smell things that are really there, often mistaking ordinary things for blood, or smoke, or even motor oil.
I’m retraining my receptors, but it’s slow going.
Which is why I’m still blinking when Abbie’s omega thrusts a cup of coffee under my nose.
“Morning,” Wings murmurs, then nods at the bureau.
“Glory has been cooking up a storm. There’s breakfast sandwiches and blueberry muffins if you feel up to eating. ”
I look around, my body one big, satisfied ache. “Abbie...?”
Wings’ gray eyes dance with mischief. “Princess Abigail had one last ride on her fair knight and then finally passed out.” He points behind me and I roll to find Abbie and Pitt locked in a sleepy embrace. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
There’s a hint of tension in his voice and I shake my head as I sit up and take the cup of coffee. “I just had the best knot and deepest sleep in years. If it works for her, how can I complain?”
He blinks at my blunt honesty, but then he sinks onto the bed beside me, picking at the muffin on his plate.
I reach over and take the dog tags off the nightstand, brushing a thumb over the familiar engraving.
Mine are somewhere in the bottom of the Atlantic, tossed off a pier when I got out of the VA hospital, but I smile as I read the tag.
“Samson Taylor. He was a good guy.” I look up at Wings. “You knew him?”
“Our families were close.” He casts a sad glance Abbie’s way. “She misses him a lot.”
I nod, a familiar grinding pain in my chest for all the guys I lost. I shake it off, turning my attention to the other tag. “Does she know this one is Ark’s?”
Wings clicks his tongue. “I think she’s in denial. Too much history between them, or something.”
I grunt, because messy history or not, this is practically a declaration of love from Ark.
“I think her heat’s broke,” Wings says, distracting me.
“Yeah?” I frown, sniffing the air, which earns me a curious look. “I can’t always smell what’s right under my nose,” I explain. “Side effect of having my brain rattled by an IED.”
His face softens with sympathy. “That’s hard. But you can smell Abbie, right?”
“Clear as peach cobbler. Maybe it’s a scent mate thing, although I knew there was coffee in the room before you shoved this cup under my nose. That has to be progress, right?”
“Or Glory’s coffee is just that good.”
I shrug, taking another sip, because he’s spot on about the taste. “I don’t know a lot about this, though,” I tell him, nodding in Abbie’s direction. “Never thought I’d end up with a mate, let alone a pack.”
“Well, you’ve got both now.” He glances down at his plate, a hint of color on his cheeks. “I was a latent alpha up until a few weeks ago, so this is new to me, too.”
“Seriously?” I look him over more carefully, taking in his lean frame and the sharp lines of his face.
He’s not androgynous, exactly, but he’s got an edgy vibe that I haven’t seen in other male omegas.
Not that there were a lot of them in the army, but I remember a few from back home; soft, pampered boys while the rest of us were wrestling in barns and barfing on bonfires after drinking a bottle of Boones Farm. “I like your ink.”
“Thanks.” He looks at his knuckles, which spell out Ride and Fly in perfect script. It’s simple and clever, and a lot better than some of the pointless junk I have on my body. “I custom bikes, and tattoo in my spare time.”
“Ah. That explains all the butterflies around here.”
I’ve seen Ark’s ink, of course. His blazing back piece used to get a few raised eyes from unit newcomers until they learned he was the son and heir to the president of a motorcycle club. Whatever shit he wanted to put on his body was his business, and no one was stupid enough to tell him otherwise.
Damn. I rub my swollen eye, remembering the look of betrayal on his face when he punched me. A conversation needs to be had, and soon. But first, I need to get a grip on my new pack dynamics.
“So, are you interested in knots, bites, and the whole deal?”
Wings chokes, his face going red as he coughs up a wad of muffin. “What?”
“Shit. Sorry, but I kinda say what I think. When you’ve got a brain injury, you have to speak plain, or things can get really confused.”
“Okay,” he croaks, setting his plate aside and clearing his throat. “Then, to be clear, I’m still exploring.” He shoots a quick glance past me. “Abbie’s buying me toys.”
Well, shit. That visual has my dick plumping up, and given my naked state, Wings can’t help but notice. “Gotta say, that sounds like a good time, all round. So, if you don’t mind an observer – or even an assistant - I’m putting my hand up. However I can help, I’d be into that.”
He blinks at me again, his voice barely above a croak. “Really?”
“Definitely.” I let him see the appreciation in my eyes, just so we’re on the same page.
He’s a stunning guy, his looks only improved by how beautifully he tended Abbie in her heat.
His butterfly is clearly the center of his world, and I find that kind of devotion damn attractive.
Plus, his omega scent is like warm chocolate syrup, and I bet it will only taste better when he’s melting on my tongue.
His light gray eyes have grown wider as he studies me, no doubt picking up on my horny vibes. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Cool.” I pat his shoulder, then scoot to the edge of the bed, rubbing at the big scar on my chest. “Can I get your help now, though?”
I guess I must have made things pretty awkward, because he’s still bright red as he follows me into the bathroom.
As expected for the fanciness of this suite, there’s a giant tub in the corner and one of those wicker baskets full of mystery products.
“I’m not exactly up on aftercare,” I tell him, “but I thought Abbie might like a bath when she wakes up.”
He nods, his face softening with understanding. “Good call. Abbie is kinda feral about her baths.”
I grimace, since my skills are pretty limited in this area. “Could you maybe help me choose what to put in it? I’m more of a shower guy, and I’m still using the brand of soap brick I got issued in basic training.”
“Oof. Okay, we can do better than that.” He must pick up on my helplessness, because he quickly starts rooting around in the basket.
“You can’t really go wrong with any of these products.
Abbie likes both bubbles and salts, especially the therapeutic ones.
Anything with honey or citrus notes is always a favorite.
” He pauses to look at me, probably remembering that my nose is next to useless in situations like this.
“Light a couple of candles, maybe toss in a dash of bath oil, and she’s gonna love it. ”
“What about rose petals? I saw that in a movie once.”
He bites his lip, nodding. “Sure. You could get them from Lyla, since she’s mostly in charge of the gardens.”
I nod, storing another name away in my faulty memory banks. “Next time for sure, then. But I like the sound of this bath oil stuff. Which one is that?”