Chapter 21 Fritz
Fritz
“Please!” It came out as a broken whimper, raw and desperate, slicing straight through the room and into my gut. The sound alone nearly dropped me to my knees.
Presley’s scent had thickened the air until I was breathing in her sweet, ripe omega heat.
She smelled of vanilla, rain and cedarwood.
My three scents. I wanted her anyway, I’d been half-hard since the moment she appeared in the doorway in Hastings office.
Now that she was wearing Etienne’s shirt, her thighs glistening, and eyes blown wide, now I was aching.
Etienne didn’t hesitate. He slipped his hand into hers, thumb stroking over her knuckles like she was made of spun glass.
“Come, Princesse,” he murmured, voice low and reverent, the way he always spoke when he was trying not to scare her. For a rugby player he certainly knew how to treat an omega.
Etienne led her out of the study, slow steps to match her unsteady ones, and Hastings and I followed like we were on invisible leashes. I suppose we were and she held those leashes.
We stopped at the threshold of her room. The door was open, and the soft lamplight spilled out, the air inside smelled of her.
Blankets and pillows were piled high on the oversized mattress—our shirts, our sweaters, anything that carried our scents woven into a perfect chaos only an omega in heat could build. I loved it.
Etienne was excited when he told us that she’d done it unconsciously over the last days, stealing from our laundry baskets. I laughed it off at the time, but the sight of it now made something possessive roar in my chest.
Presley paused just inside, then turned to look back at us. Her legs trembled. Slick shone on the insides of her thighs, catching the light.
The hem of Etienne’s shirt had ridden up enough to show the slick had soaked through, darkening the fabric.
I stayed in the doorway with the others.
I’d learned the hard way never to cross an omega’s nest threshold uninvited.
In my early twenties, a heat-drunk omega had invited me in with her eyes, then turned feral the second my foot touched her blankets.
She was all claws, teeth–the works. I still had the faint scar on my shoulder.
So I waited, fists clenched at my sides, cock throbbing against my zipper, every alpha instinct screaming at me to go to her.
She sank onto the nest, knees first, settling back on her heels. The shirt slipped higher as she parted her thighs just enough. Fuck. Her pussy was swollen, flushed pink, glistening with slick that dripped steadily onto the blankets beneath her. She looked up at us, eyes glassy, lips parted.
“Please,” she murmured again, softer this time, directed at all three of us.
That was the invitation.
Etienne moved first, of course. He crossed the room quickly and kneeled in front of her with reverence that bordered on worship. His hands hovered before touching, asking permission even now. She nodded frantically, and he cupped her face, thumbs brushing her flushed cheeks.
“Princesse,” he whispered, voice rough with awe. “You are exquisite.”
He pressed his mouth on hers and kissed her.
It was slow and deep, like he was memorizing her mouth.
She whimpered into it, fingers clutching his shoulders.
When he pulled back, his pupils were blown, but he still moved carefully, easing the shirt up and off her body.
She was bare underneath, breasts heavy, nipples tight, skin glowing with heat.
Hastings hadn’t moved from the doorway. He stood rigid, arms crossed, jaw clenched so hard, the muscle ticked.
I’d seen that look. The control stretched to breaking.
He still didn’t fully believe the scent match was real, or maybe he was terrified it was.
Either way, he was holding back, cataloging every detail like this was a transaction instead of the moment we’d all been circling for weeks.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stepped inside.
Presley’s eyes flicked to me, brightening.
“Fritz,” she breathed, and the sound of my name in that needy voice nearly undid me.
“Hey, Omega,” I said, keeping my tone light even though my blood was pounding. “I heard you started the party without us.”
A shaky laugh escaped her, cutting through the haze. Good. I wanted her to smile, even if it was through the heat.
I dropped to my knees beside Etienne, close enough that our shoulders brushed.
She reached for me immediately, fingers tangling in my hair.
I let her pull me up to her, and before I knew what I was doing, I was nipping at her bottom lip before kissing her properly.
She melted against me, a soft moan vibrating against my tongue.
Etienne’s hands were already sliding down her body, cupping her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples.
She arched. I broke the kiss to watch her face, eyes that were now fluttering, her parted lips, and then I couldn’t resist anymore.
I dipped my head, taking one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder when she gasped my name.
Hastings finally moved. He crossed the room slowly, shedding his shirt at the side of the nest. His movements were measured, almost clinical. He knelt on her other side, but he didn’t touch her yet. He watched, eyes dark as his thumb stroked over his bottom lip.
I knew now how much he wanted her.
Etienne laid her back gently into the nest, pillows cradling her head. He kissed a path down her sternum, lingering over her stomach, murmuring French endearments too low for me to catch. When he reached her thighs, he nudged them wider with reverent hands.
“May I taste you, Princesse?” he asked, voice thick with a need to dive right in, but Etienne loved to hear the need in his omega’s voice.
Was she his? Ours?
We wanted her but we were assuming she’d want the same. I groaned, pushing the thought to one side.
She nodded frantically. Her eyes started to glaze. “Yes—please—”
He groaned at the first lick, long and slow from entrance to clit. Her hips bucked, and he pinned them gently, licking into her like she was the finest dessert he’d ever tasted.
Slick coated his lips, his chin, glistening as he worked her with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue.
Presley writhed. Her fingers scrabbling at the blankets, finding purchase.
I couldn’t stay idle. I moved up to kiss her again, swallowing her moans. Her scent was everywhere now. It was sweet, addictive, and no doubt ours.
Her thighs tightened around Etienne’s head as her climax neared and within seconds she was pushing me back.
Her face was flushed as she cried out, “Yes! Don’t– Yes! Oh my God!”
When Etienne finally pulled back, his face was shiny with her slick and his lips swollen. He looked wrecked in the best way possible.
“My turn,” I said, grinning at her. “Let’s see if I can make you laugh and come at the same time.”
She let out a breathless giggle, even as her thighs trembled. “Fritz—”
I settled between her legs, blowing a cool breath over her clit just to watch her squirm. “Sensitive, Liebling?”
“Tease,” she accused, but she was smiling.
“Always.” I licked a line up her center, humming dramatically. “God, you taste like heaven.”
I dove in properly then. There was no gentle reverence, just enthusiasm as I licked broad stripes, and then circled her clit, before sucking it between my lips until she was keening.
“Good, Liebling?” I asked as I slid two fingers inside her, curling them.
“Ahh!” She clenched hard, more slick gushing over my hand. I pulled back just long enough to grin up at her.
“See? Multi-talented.”
She laughed again, the sound breaking into a moan as I lowered once more and sucked her clit hard.
Her thighs clamped around my head, and I let them, licking her through the orgasm that crashed over her. Watching her body shaking, her back arching, my name a broken cry on her lips.
When I sat back, my face was drenched, slick cooling on my chin and cheeks. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and winked at her. “Told you.”
Hastings hadn’t moved to taste her yet. He was stroking himself through his trousers, eyes fixed on her pussy like he was memorizing it.
Presley’s gaze locked on him. She pushed up on her elbows, chest heaving. “Hastings,” she whispered. “Please.”
He swallowed hard. “Omega—”
“Please.” She reached for him, fingers trembling.
He moved closer, finally shedding the rest of his clothes. His cock was heavy, flushed, and his knot was already swelling at the base. He stood beside her head, hand wrapping around his length as he stroked slowly, deliberately, like he was putting on a show just for her.
“Come here.”
She turned on the nest and crawled toward him. It was slow, cat-like, her thighs slick and shining.
Her eyes widened and she moaned as he stroked slowly over his length. She nuzzled against his thigh, lips brushing the base of his cock, breathing him in.
Hastings’ breath hitched, his hand stilling for a moment as her tongue slid up his shaft, swirling around the head, tasting the bead of pre-cum there.
He groaned, low and rough as his fingers threaded into her hair.
She took him deeper, lips stretching around his thickness, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked. Her head bobbed slowly at first, then with more urgency, one hand wrapping around what she couldn’t fit, stroking in time with her mouth.
Etienne cupped her breasts while he kissed her neck. I stroked my dick, watching as slick dripped steadily from her as she worked Hastings cock, the wet sounds of her mouth mixing with his ragged breathing.
“Fuck, Presley,” he rasped, hips twitching forward involuntarily.
She moaned around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath. Her free hand slipped between her own thighs, rubbing her clit in desperate circles as she sucked him harder, faster, eager to please.