12. Cazimer
“ T hen why don’t you help me out, Cazzy,” Louise purrs, her flawless body beneath the rippling surface of the bathwater like the promise of a water-lily-adorned-nymph, her fiery eyes boring into me from the crack’d reflection of the mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
“Yeah, and how do you figure that’s going to work?” I laugh, shifting uneasily as I rinse the last of the conditioner from her vibrant red hair.
“It could work any number of ways.” She bats her lashes at me coquettishly, leaning her head far enough back that I have to adjust myself not to get soaked by her dripping mane. “Why don’t you ditch those clothes and come soak with me?”
I can’t help myself. My eyes flit to the closed bathroom door, then to her handcuffed wrist laying limply against the rim of the tub.
“I’m so fucking tight and slick,” she whines, one of her hands disappearing between her legs as her eyelids droop, half hooded over her amorous gaze.
“You don’t have to uncuff me to fuck me,” she moans with increasing desperation, levering her hips up and out of the water, her neat triangle of fiery pubic hair drawing my eyes.
“Jesus, those suppressant-melters were way more serious than we thought.” I struggle to swallow, wiping my dripping bathwater hands on my thighs—using every ounce of my willpower not to strip down and belly flop into the water on top of her.
“Did you like watching me give Daddy head?” she whimpers coyly, her eyes never leaving mine as she begins to stroke her own clit in slow, gentle circles—her pussy pulsing in the mirror as I watch her play with herself.
I don’t even realize I’m nodding in the affirmative, hand gripping my cock through my sweatpants until she lets out a satisfied little laugh.
“I wasn’t even doing my best work.” She purses her lips, letting her hips drop beneath the water once more.
“If you need some convincing to put that hard cock inside me, why don’t you let me show you some of my skills?
” Louise drags her middle finger from the slick petals of her cunt up her flat stomach, through the valley of her perfect breasts, up the point of her chin, to dip into her pursed lips.
Again, my eyes dart from the bathroom door to Louise’s handcuffed wrist guiltily.
She’s not in heat, not even fully off her suppressants—but she’s already almost impossible to resist. It reminds me of the first time Quentin went into heat after I joined the Saints.
I had been with men, women, and everything in between in my furious youth—but always other thetas like myself, occasionally an alpha or beta looking to hook up on KNTTR, never an omega or sigma—especially not in heat.
When Quentin had entered his heat—Frank, Seb, and I became like men possessed; none of us could keep our hands off of him for nearly a week. Seb and I had to take turns bringing everyone food and water—since Frank and his knot were needed overtime.
Since sigmas are somewhere between an alpha and an omega in terms of their reproductive physiology; I can only imagine that one or both of Louise and Q going into heat would trigger the most unhinged of ruts in Frank.
With my mind wandering into dirty places, I shake off my reverie—my theta perfume cranking out at a high enough intensity that I can see it affecting Louise.
Her pupils, much like the night before, are so dilated that they nearly touch the rim of her cinnamon irises, her tongue lolling gently from her mouth as her lips part.
Ah shit.
I lost track of my own fucking fantasies and boner and now I’ve accidentally begun secreting the psychotropic scent that thetas are known and often hated for; Louise’s very consciousness glazed over by mind-altering perfume.
While the ability is linked to our designation’s role in enhancing sensation, pleasure, and deep emotional connection while the pack is in the height of breeding and bonding activity; my very theta perfume is the major key ingredient to the “night-night juice” formula that Seb has developed for our use in both tranquilizer darts and also aerosolized knockout gas.
Another guilty pang as I remember our first night with Louise as our captive; her body still, save for the gentle rise and fall of her breath as she lay stretched on the ratty couch in the New York City safe house.
Something about her delicate beauty in dreamlike stillness; a peace and perfection that could never be attained in waking life that is simply irresistible to me—Theta Prince of Slumber; King of Dreams.
While the others slept, I stroked myself hard and fast until I filled my empty palm; my seed like a cabochon of opal in the moonlight as I knelt beside her sleeping form.
Greedily, I licked every last drop from my palm, escaping to my own room down the hall before I submitted to my even more base desires while I still had enough self-control to keep from touching her.
Now she lays before me, like a glistening mermaid broken from the seafoam to swallow my soul; eyes a bottomless black as her mouth opens wide.
My body moves of its own accord, shuffling on my hands and knees to the side of the tub, pressing up into the full height of my kneel.
My thumbs hook through the waistband of my sweats and boxer briefs as I free my erection; hard cock studded along the underside with the four silver barbells of my Jacob’s ladder, the gold 10 gauge ring of my prince Albert winking in the light.
“What a fun surprise!” Louise drawls through the haze of my theta perfume as she props herself at the edge of the bath—greedily taking me into her mouth.
Her mouth is like molten velvet around me, her tongue running up and over each rung of my Jacob’s ladder as she sucks me.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I reach down, gathering her dripping wet hair, holding it away from her face. She pulls me free from the suction of her lips, flicking the gold ring of my prince Albert as she looks up at me—our eye contact, deep and intense.
“I’m so tight, Cazzy,” she whines, her coppery brows knitting together as if in pain. “Won’t you please help me?” Louise whimpers, closing her mouth around my cock head and sucking until my eyes flutter closed from the weight of my pleasure.
“Please, I wanna cum so bad,” she mewls, sitting back on her heels, spreading her knees.
Like some bizarre protection ritual, my eyes make their final round—bathroom door, handcuffed wrist, Louise laying in the water—reaching for me.
Fuck it.
I tear off my t-shirt, stepping out of my sweatpants and boxers already around my knees.
Carefully, I step into the water—still gently steaming. I kneel in the space made by her spread legs—reaching beneath the sloshing bath water to lift her hips to the surface.
“Hold on to the edge of the tub,” I growl at her—watching to make sure her hands clasp the edge of the metal tub behind her head. I cup her tight glutes in my hands, lifting her pussy up and out of the water toward my mouth as she clings to the bathtub—eyes wide and wild with shock.
She gasps as I bring my mouth to her slick pussy, my lips closing around her swollen clit.
Sweeter than honey, more addictive than whiskey or cigarettes—my tongue laps at her dripping petals before pushing inside, seeking deep within.
“Cazzy, your mouth feels so good.” She gives a breathy moan—our eyes locked as she bucks her hips against my face. “But I need you inside,” Louise begs, the backs of her thighs trembling against my shoulders.
My cock jumps at her words. I’m already so far past the point of return in regards to rule breaking, there’s really no reason not to give in to what we both want.
It’s not like I run the risk of losing myself while fucking her and accidentally chomping down on her with a bonding bite—though, technically, she could do just that to me.
That thought causes my cock to jump again—and I can’t help but curse my traitorous theta biology; desperate to become pack—to facilitate the longevity of my own family through my own special place in the cycle of heats, ruts, and breeding.
Before I know it, I’ve laid Louise back into the water—my knees forcing hers further apart as I crawl over her, one hand cradling the back of her head—the other bracketing her free hand on the edge of the tub.
“I want to kiss you.” The words are out of my mouth, low and husky, before I can stop myself.
“Then kiss me, Cazzy,” she croons, reaching out with her free hand, her fingers dancing over the back of my buzzed head to rest on the nape of my neck, drawing me to her.
I close my eyes, dipping my head down to press my lips to hers; her green apple tartness like a bright strike of lightning as I breathe in her scent this close.
Her lips part and her tongue pushes into my mouth, my hips flexing downward as I slide my cock against her slick pussy—the two of us shuddering as the rungs of my Jacob’s ladder rub against her throbbing clit.
She moans into my mouth, and I draw myself back—my pierced cockhead pressing against her tight, slick entrance.
“Please!” she breaks the kiss to wail—her lips still brushing against mine.
And then I’m inside her—hot, tight, sublime.
I crush her mouth with mine—the two of us moaning into one another’s mouths as I sink deeper inside her perfect pussy.
The bath water sloshes messily as I pick up my rhythm, pulling halfway out—pumping halfway back in before slamming the rest of my length home on each third stroke.
“You feel so good inside me,” she moans as I continue my rhythmic pistoning.
“It feels so good inside you,” I rumble, picking up my pace—pulling back as far as I can before sinking my entire length inside her.
Her legs coil around my waist as she sighs my name, my balls lift—the tight coiling deep in my abdomen threatening to spring forth in a jerking, spasming orgasm.
Not yet.