Omega on Fire

24. Charlotte

CHAPTER 24

CHARLOTTE

T he back room of the pizzeria is dimly lit, cozy, and just far enough off the beaten path that I don't feel like I need to hide. The scent of garlic, bubbling cheese, and yeasty dough fills the air, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not calculating every step. I'm just existing. Laughing. Teasing. Surrounded by the four men who would raze the world for me.

Joker found the place, of course he did. Tiny, family-run, with a password-protected side entrance and a back room that's more speakeasy than dining space. The room is empty except for a long wooden dining table bathed in a soft golden light. And, naturally, there's a record player in the corner, playing old-school jazz like we've stepped into a dream. It’s intimate and private, I have no doubt that Joker has orchestrated this entire set up last minute.

I'm still in my burgundy gala gown, heels kicked off beneath the table, the fabric skimming my thighs as I sip from a wine glass and let the warmth of the moment soak into my bones. I've felt a hundred kinds of eyes on me tonight, but none like the ones around me now. These men don't just look—they see. They've never seen anything other than me. Just me and that means everything.

"Late-night pizza and Miles Davis after the night we just had?" I ask teasing.

Beaux bites into a slice and moans, head tilting back like he's tasting divinity. "Baby, I wouldn't have it any other way. Yeah, the gala was shit but, Harley, you were brilliant."

"Trouble," Teagan mutters, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

Joker hands me a slice stacked high with pepperoni, mushrooms, and extra cheese. "You said distraction, I deliver distraction. There's a security team out front and encrypted signal jammers on the perimeter. No one is here but us. The owners gave us an hour. Maybe two."

Moses leans closer, heat radiating from his thigh against mine. "Plenty of time. "

The way he says it makes heat rise in my chest. In my core. It's not just the wine. It's the way they look at me like I'm a ready dessert.

I take the first bite of pizza and can't help the sound that escapes me, a moan of pure pleasure, as the flavors explode across my tongue. Cheese stretches in strings from my lips to the slice, and I don't care about looking graceful anymore.

"Fuck, that's good," I say after swallowing, licking sauce from the corner of my mouth. Four sets of eyes track the movement of my tongue. The air changes suddenly, charged with something beyond the casual intimacy we've been sharing. My scent blooms stronger, responding to theirs as they thicken around me, saturating the room in lust.

"You've got a little. . ." Moses reaches over, his thumb brushing the corner of my lips, coming away with a spot of sauce. The simple touch sends electricity racing across my skin. Before he can pull back, I catch his wrist.

Looking him straight in those deep brown eyes, I bring his thumb to my mouth and slowly suck it clean.

His pupils dilate instantly. I hear his sharp intake of breath, feel the tension suddenly electrify his body beside me .

"Fuck," Beaux whispers from across the table, the utterance sounding more like devotion than profanity.

I release Moses' thumb with a soft pop, surprised by my own boldness. The wine hums in my veins, but I'm not drunk, just free. Free of expectations. Free to let go.

"What are you doing to us, Harley?" Beaux's voice is rough, strained.

I take another bite of pizza, chewing slowly as I consider him. "Right now? Enjoying my pizza." I rest my chin on my hand, feeling the weight of the diamond earrings still dangling from my lobes. "But I could be persuaded to enjoy other things."

Teagan's low growl vibrates across the table. He hasn't touched his pizza yet, just nursing a glass of whiskey, those hazel eyes boring into me.

"Careful," he warns, but there's heat behind it, not caution.

"I'm tired of being careful." I set my pizza down, wipe my fingers on a napkin. "I've been careful my whole life. I'm careful with my words, careful with my image, careful not to let my designation define me." I take another long drink of my wine, savoring the flavor. "And where has it gotten me? You know what? I don't want to think about it."

Joker leans over in his seat beside me, the scent of rain and clean linen washing over me in comforting waves. "You're safe here," he says, those expressive eyes searching mine. "You know that, right?"

"I do." And I mean it. Even with my life imploding around me, even with Blaine's bullshit hanging over my head, I've never felt safer than I do right now, surrounded by these four men. "That's why I'm done being careful. At least for tonight."

I reach for Joker's hand, lacing our fingers together. His skin is softer than the others', his hands made for tech rather than combat but still marked with calluses that tell stories of a life lived hard and fast.

"Charlotte. . ." Teagan's voice holds warning, but his scent betrays him, leather and gunmetal sharpening with desire.

"What do you want, Charlotte?" Moses asks, his deep voice gentle as his thigh presses more firmly against mine.

What do I want? The question hangs in the air between us.

I want to forget, just for a little while, the weight on my shoulders. I want to feel something other than the anxiety that's been my constant companion since they pulled me from that hellish compound. I want to be wanted for who I am, not what I represent .

"I want you," I say simply, letting the words fall into the space between us. "All of you. I'm tired of pretending. This is inevitable."

The confession hangs there, my honey-cinnamon scent spiking with the truth of it. I've been fighting this attraction since they rescued me, telling myself it was just biology, just my Omega responding to their Alpha and Beta pheromones. But it's more than that now. It's trust. It's understanding. It's the way they look at me like I'm worth protecting, not because I'm an Omega, but because I'm me.

Beaux is the first to move. Pushing his chair back, he comes around the table and kneels beside my seat. Moses shifts his chair, giving him room. His whiskey-pepper scent engulfs me as he takes my free hand, the one not holding Joker's.

"You've got us, Harlequin," he says, bringing my knuckles to his lips. "All of us. Every way you want us."

My breath catches as his lips brush against my skin, the gentle scrape of his lip ring a contrast to the softness of his mouth.

"Is that what you want?" Teagan asks, setting his glass down with deliberate control. "All of us? Tonight?"

The thought sends a rush of heat between my thighs, my body responding with instinctive, primal need. "Yes," I say breathily, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice. "Yes."

"Tell us what you need," Moses says, his fingers tracing eager circles on the top of the table as if it were my skin.

"I need to feel something real," I whisper, vulnerability cracking through my earlier boldness. "Something that isn't fear or obligation or—God, I'm so tired of calculating every word, every action, every?—"

Beaux rises slightly, cupping my face in both hands, and presses his lips to mine, swallowing the rest of my words. The kiss is gentle at first, questioning, giving me every opportunity to pull away. But I don't want gentle. Not tonight.

I lean into him, parting my lips, inviting him deeper. He groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me as his tongue slides against mine. The taste of him, whiskey and spice, floods my senses. His lip ring presses against my skin, the cool metal a counterpoint to the heat of his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, I'm breathless, dizzy with want. "Like that?" he asks, his voice rough.

"Yes," I manage. "Exactly like that."

From beside me, Moses stands, pushes his chair out of the way and kneels next to Beaux. Beaux shifts and they are both side by side on their knees, waiting and eager. Moses slides his hand up my thigh, his long fingers tracing patterns that send shivers racing up my spine. "Your scent," he murmurs, leaning in to brush his nose against my neck. "Honey and cinnamon and something else now. Something sweeter."

Arousal. He's smelling my arousal, the slick beginning to gather between my thighs. The realization should embarrass me. I've spent my life fighting against the stereotype of Omegas as slaves to their biology, but tonight, I embrace it. Tonight, I want them to know exactly what they do to me.

Joker's fingers tighten around mine, his other hand reaching to brush a strand of hair from my face. "You're beautiful," he says simply. "Always, but especially right now."

I turn to look at him, struck by the sincerity in his light brown eyes. Beaux's touches are fire, Moses’ are earth, solid and grounding, but Joker's, Joker's are air, gentle and encompassing. I don't think, I react, leaning forward I press my lips to his.

His kisses are different to Beaux’s, more methodical somehow, like he's solving a puzzle only he can see. His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as his tongue traces the seam of my lips, requesting rather than demanding entry.

I open for him, sighing as his tongue slides against mine. The scent of rain fills my lungs, making me feel cleansed, reborn. When we part, his gaze is heated, focused entirely on me.

"More?" he asks softly.

"More," I confirm, turning to find Teagan watching us with an intensity that takes my breath away.

Unlike the others, he hasn't moved from his side of the table. His stillness is calculated, measured, the restraint of an Alpha who knows his own power. He's waiting, I realize.

I feel dazed by the kisses, by the electric tension crackling between us. Joker's hands still frame my face, Moses' fingers trace patterns on my thigh, and Beaux’s warmth radiates against my side. Teagan watches from across the table, his restraint a tangible thing.

The record player crackles in the corner, the jazz notes floating around us like smoke. My body thrums with need, with the certainty of what comes next.

I turn to Moses, extending my hand. "Help me up?"

He rises from the floor without hesitation, one warm, calloused hand wrapping gently around mine. Beaux follows, standing and giving me room to slide out of my seat, my bare feet hitting the wood floor. The air kisses my exposed skin, and I feel the energy in the room shift and ripple like a current.

Beaux watches me closely. He sees it, the way I reach behind me for the zipper of my gown, the slow drag of satin down skin. His eyes flare, and then he's moving, stepping in behind me, hands replacing mine.

"Let me," he murmurs, voice husky.

He peels the dress from my body like I'm his gift. The zipper hums, and cool air brushes across my spine. I close my eyes as the fabric slides over my hips, pooling at my feet. I step out of it, unhooking my bra, my panties and stockings follow. They've seen my body, there's no need to overthink my appearance. I feel cherished under their hungry eyes.

"Fucking gorgeous, Harley," Beaux says as he stoops to pick up my clothes with surprising tenderness, folding them over a chair. His hands return, steadying me, guiding me.

"Up you go, Harley."

With his help, I climb onto the table. The wood is warm under my feet, then my thighs as I lower myself to lie back. I stretch out, completely bare under the soft light, surrounded by half-eaten pizza, wine, and four hungry stares.

"Dessert is served," I purr boldly. Unapologetic about what I want in this moment.

The noise that erupts from them is unified and instinctual.

Moses sits closest to my side, his palm sliding over my shin. Teagan leans back in his seat like a man trying to keep himself chained. Joker's fingers twitch against the stem of his wine glass. Beaux stays standing, gaze sweeping over every inch of me like he's committing it to memory.

"No worries tonight," I say, voice silk. "No plans. No strategies." I stretch my arms above my head, arching slightly. "Just us."

They move slowly, reverently, gently. I feel like I'm being unwrapped, soft satin ribbons brushing against my skin. Every caress is measured. Intentional. Their restraint is maddening and intoxicating.

Moses runs his fingers down my sternum, his frankincense-and-myrrh scent grounding me. "Are you sure, sweet one?"

I smile at him, at all of them. "I've never been more sure."

Beaux trails his hands up my calves, parting my legs slightly with a grin that promises ruin. Joker kneels beside the table, his lips finding my wrist, then my elbow, then the inside of my arm.

Teagan stands at the foot of the table like a king surveying his kingdom. "Say it," he says, low and firm. "Say what you want."

"I want to be yours," I whisper. "All of yours."

Their control shatters. And their worship begins.

Moses is the first to touch me, his large hand cupping my breast, thumb rolling over my nipple with exquisite precision. I arch into his touch, a moan escaping my lips as Beaux's mouth finds my ankle, then my calf, then the sensitive inside of my knee. The metal of his lip piercing offers a thrilling juxtaposition, its cool surface meeting the warmth of his passionate, lingering kisses.

"Beautiful," Joker murmurs, his hands replacing Moses’ as he leans down to capture my other nipple between his lips. The wet heat of his mouth sends shockwaves through me, my body responding with a pulse of slick between my thighs.

Teagan remains at the end of the table, watching, his hands working his belt open with methodical patience. The sound of leather sliding through loops makes my core clench with anticipation.

"Look at you," he says, voice rough with want. "Spread out like a feast. "

Moses chuckles against my hip bone, where his mouth has traveled. "And we're all very hungry."

His lips trail lower, his broad shoulders pushing my thighs further apart. The first touch of his tongue against my center has me crying out, my back arching off the table. He groans against me, the vibration sending sparks shooting up my spine.

"Honey," he murmurs against my flesh. "You taste like honey and sin."

Beaux appears at my head, leaning over me upside down, his dark eyes blazing with heat. "I need to taste those sounds, Harley."

He captures my mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing my moans as Moses works me with his tongue, tracing lazy circles around my clit before dipping lower to tease my entrance. The dual sensations, Beaux's demanding kisses and Moses’ talented mouth, have me spiraling quickly toward the edge.

Joker's hands roam my body, exploring me like a map he's determined to memorize. He finds places I didn't know could bring pleasure: the crease of my elbow, the spot just beneath my ear, the sensitive skin where thigh meets hip.

"What does she need?" Teagan asks from the foot of the table, his voice commanding even in questioning .

Moses lifts his head, chin glistening with my arousal. "She needs to cum," he says simply. "Hard and often."

He slides two fingers into me without warning, curling them against that spot that makes stars burst behind my closed eyelids. I break away from Beaux's kiss with a gasp, my hips rocking against Moses’ hand.

"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for. More? Release? All of them at once?

"Look at her," Beaux says, reverence in his tone. "Fucking gorgeous when she begs."

Joker makes a sound of agreement, his mouth closing around my nipple again, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. The slight edge of pain amplifies the pleasure coursing through me, pushing me closer to the precipice.

Moses adds a third finger, stretching me deliciously as his tongue returns to my clit, flicking with precise, relentless pressure. The coil in my lower belly tightens, threatening to snap.

"Let go, Charlotte," Teagan commands from the foot of the table. I open my eyes to find him naked now. In fact, they are all naked. Blind and lust drunk, I watch Teagan stroking himself as he watches the three men worship my body. The sight of him, powerful, controlled, but clearly affected, is what sends me over.

My orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, starting where Moses’ mouth meets my core and radiating outward until even my fingertips tingle with it. I cry out, back arching, thighs trembling around Moses’ head as he works me through it, not relenting until the aftershocks fade to gentle tremors.

"Fuck," Beaux breathes, his eyes wide as he watches my face. "That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I'm still catching my breath when I feel movement on the table. Teagan has climbed up, kneeling between my legs where Moses has made room for him. His cock stands proud, thick and intimidating, the head glistening with pre-cum.

"Is this what you want?" he asks, voice deceptively gentle as he runs the broad head through my folds, coating himself in my slick.

"Yes," I gasp, lifting my hips in invitation. "God, yes, Teagan."

He pushes in slowly, stretching me around his considerable girth. The burn is exquisite, riding the knife's edge between pleasure and pain. I feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein as he fills me completely, bottoming out with a groan that sounds like it's torn from his soul.

"Tight," he grits out, holding still within me. "So fucking tight."

Moses appears at my side again, his fingers tangling in my hair as he turns my face toward him. "Okay?" he checks, his dark eyes searching mine.

I nod, beyond words as Teagan begins to move, slow, deep thrusts that have me seeing stars. Moses smiles, satisfied, then lowers his mouth to mine. He tastes like me, like my own arousal, and the knowledge that he's just had his mouth between my thighs sends a fresh wave of heat through me.

Joker's hands never stop their exploration, trailing fire across my skin as Teagan's pace increases. Beaux has disappeared from my line of sight, but I feel him at the foot of the table, his hands wrapping around my ankles, pulling me more securely onto Teagan's cock.

Teagan's hands grip my hips with bruising force as he pounds into me, the wet sounds of our joining obscene in the quiet room. I'm being consumed, devoured by sensation, Moses’ mouth on mine, Joker's hands on my breasts, Beaux's firm grip on my ankles, and Teagan, Teagan splitting me open, filling me so completely I can feel him in my throat.

"Need to feel you cum again," Teagan growls, one hand releasing my hip to find my clit. His thumb circles the sensitive bud with just the right pressure, and I shatter beneath him, walls clenching around his cock as a second, more intense orgasm rips through me.

My vision whites out, pleasure so intense it borders on pain radiating from my core outward. I hear myself screaming, feel my body convulsing beneath the weight of their hands, their mouths, their attention.

Teagan follows me over the edge with a roar, his hips jerking as he empties himself deep inside me. His scent spikes, raw, masculine power, filling the room as he marks me with his seed.

Before I can catch my breath, Teagan is withdrawing, and Beaux is taking his place. Where Teagan was controlled precision, Beaux is wild abandon. He flips me over with ease, pulling me to my hands and knees on the table.

"My turn, Harley," he growls in my ear as he lines himself up from behind. He pushes in with one smooth thrust, his dick piercing creating a delicious additional sensation as he fills me.

"Oh fuck," I gasp, arms trembling as I try to hold myself up.

Joker appears before me, kneeling at the head of the table. "Let me help," he offers, those expressive eyes dark with lust. He slides his legs beneath me, leaning back against the table, supporting my weight as Beaux begins a punishing rhythm behind me.

Moses stands beside the table, stroking himself as he watches Beaux take me. The look on his face is one of pure, unadulterated desire. "So beautiful," he murmurs, free hand reaching out to trace the curve of my spine.

Beaux's hands grip my hips, using them as leverage to drive himself deeper. Each thrust pushes me forward, my face hovering inches above Joker's straining erection. The silent question hangs between us, and I answer by lowering my mouth, taking him between my lips with a moan that vibrates around his length.

His hands find my hair, not guiding, just anchoring himself as if he might float away without the connection. The gentle rain-and-linen scent of him intensifies, filling my lungs as I hollow my cheeks.

Beaux's rhythm behind me is relentless, each powerful thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through my body. The table creaks beneath us, a symphony of wood and breathless gasps.

"Look at you," Beaux growls, his voice thick with passion. "Taking us so well, Harley. "

I moan around Joker, unable to form words as sensation overwhelms me. My fingers grip the edge of the table, knuckles white with the effort to ground myself in the storm of pleasure.

"Char—Charlotte," Joker gasps, his normally composed voice breaking. "I'm close, I'm?—"

His words dissolve into a strangled cry as his back arches. The way he says my name resonates like a blessing. I feel him pulse against my tongue, his release warm and surprisingly sweet. I swallow instinctively, drawing another broken sound from him.

Beaux's pace falters momentarily, his fingers digging into my hips. "Fuck, that's hot," he mutters, watching Joker come undone.

I lift my head, gasping for breath as Joker collapses back against the table, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes are dazed, pupils blown wide as he reaches up to touch my face with trembling fingers.

"Beautiful," he whispers, thumb tracing my lower lip.

Beaux pulls me upright then, my back against his chest as he continues to move within me. One hand snakes around to cup my breast, the other slides lower, finding where we're joined. The first touch of his fingers against my oversensitive flesh has me crying out.

"Tell me," he growls in my ear, his lip ring cool against my heated skin. "Who do you belong to, Harlequin?"

The question resonates through me, deeper than physical pleasure. This is what I've been running from, what I've feared and craved in equal measure. Belonging. Connection. Pack.

"You," I gasp as his fingers circle my clit with devastating precision. "All of you."

"Say it again," he demands, teeth grazing my earlobe.

"I belong to you," I pant, eyes finding Teagan where he stands watching us, his gaze intense. "To all of you."

Moses moves closer, his hand replacing Beaux's on my breast. "And we belong to you," he says solemnly, the promise in his words making my heart stutter.

"No turning back," Teagan adds, his voice deep and certain. "Not now."

"Not ever," Beaux agrees against my neck.

The realization crashes over me along with building pleasure. This isn't just sex. This is a claiming, a bonding, a promise being written on my skin with their hands and mouths. I'm theirs and they're mine, and whatever comes next, we'll face it together.

"Yes," I breathe, the simple word carrying the weight of my acceptance. "Yes."

Beaux's movements grow more urgent, his breathing harsh against my ear. "Cum for me, Harley," he commands, fingers working faster. "Let me feel you claim me too."

The tension that's been building breaks like a dam giving way. My third orgasm tears through me with such force that I scream, my body convulsing so violently that Beaux has to hold me upright as I shatter around him. Stars burst behind my eyelids, pleasure so intense it borders on pain radiating from my core to the very tips of my fingers and toes.

I'm vaguely aware of Beaux finding his own release, his forehead pressed against my shoulder as he pulses inside me, adding his claim to Teagan's. His arms tighten around me as aftershocks ripple through both our bodies, keeping me from collapsing completely.

"I got you," he murmurs against my skin. "I got you, Harley."

When he finally withdraws, I nearly crumple, my legs refusing to support me. Multiple sets of hands catch me, easing me gently down onto the table. I lay there, boneless and trembling, unable to form coherent thoughts as the four men surround me.

"I think we broke her," Joker chuckles, though his voice carries a note of genuine concern as he brushes sweat-damp hair from my forehead.

Moses hums his agreement, his warm hand rubbing soothing circles on my thigh. "She needs water. And rest."

I try to respond, to assure them I'm fine, but my mouth won't cooperate. I'm floating somewhere beyond language, my body humming with satisfaction and utter exhaustion. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy.

"I'll get her something to drink," Teagan says, his voice sounding faraway.

Strong arms slide beneath me, Beaux's, I think, recognizing the whiskey and black pepper scent that envelops me as he lifts me from the table.

"Come on, Harlequin," he murmurs. "Let's get you home."

I manage to nuzzle against his chest, a wordless acknowledgment as he carries me. The world blurs around me, fatigue pulling me under like a rip tide. The ride home, soft conversation as they take care of me. I register being lowered onto something soft, a bed and then surrounded by warmth as bodies settle around me.

Someone, incense, hmm, Moses, presses a glass to my lips, and I swallow automatically, the cool water soothing my throat. Fingers comb through my hair, massage my scalp. Gentle kisses are pressed to my shoulders, my temple, the palm of my hand.

"Sleep now," Teagan's voice, low and commanding even in tenderness.

I surrender to the pull of exhaustion, safe in the knowledge that I'm where I belong. As consciousness slips away, I don't fight it. Whatever comes tomorrow, we'll face it together.

My last coherent thought is of how right this feels, surrounded by their scents, their warmth, their protection. Four heartbeats creating a symphony with mine.

I don't remember drifting off, I don’t remember how our limbs arranged themselves as sleep claimed us all. I only know that I fell asleep in the arms of men who had claimed me, wholly and completely, and whom I had claimed in return.