Chapter 16 Bianca
BIANCA
The rock overhang isn’t much—maybe eight feet of coverage—but right now, it might as well be the Ritz fucking Carlton.
My entire body is on fire, every nerve ending screaming for them.
The pulsing between my legs is making them shake.
I don’t care that I’m covered in dirt, blood, or the various injuries all over my body.
Not even the fact that we’re being hunted.
I’ve reached the point where I don’t care about anything other than a dick inside me.
Owen’s bullet wound is the only thing grounding me right now. He has to be okay.
“Absolutely not,” Weller is saying. “Owen, you’ve lost too much blood. You can barely stand.”
“I can knot her lying down,” Owen growls back, and the sound goes straight to my core, making my inner walls clench around nothing. His eyes are feverish, pupils blown wide despite the pain etched into the lines around his mouth. “I’m not waiting another fucking minute.”
They’re arguing about logistics while I’m literally dying. My skin feels too tight, too hot, like it’s shrinking. The shirt Weller gave me is soaked through with sweat, clinging to me in a way that makes everything worse. And better. I can’t tell anymore.
“Please,” I whimper. All four of them turn to look at me, conversations dying mid-sentence. The raw hunger in their eyes is almost as potent as the heat itself. “I need—I can’t—“ I press my palm between my legs as I sink to the floor against the rough wall of the hiding spot we’ve found.
“Owen’s shoulder is fucked,” Tristan says bluntly, but his eyes are black with want as he watches me squirm. “He shouldn’t even be conscious, let alone—“
“I said I’m fine.” Owen’s voice is pure stubborn alpha pride. Tristan bandaged him up, and the bleeding seems to have stopped.
“You’re not fine,” Freddie argues, even as his hands twitch toward me, fingers flexing and releasing. His throat works as he swallows hard, fighting his instincts. “You need medical attention, not—”
“What I need,” Owen interrupts, his voice dropping to that register that makes my thighs clench and my clit throb, “is to knot my omega.”
“Owen,” I breathe, crawling toward him on hands and knees because standing seems impossible. The pain of the rough ground beneath me doesn’t faze me. “Please. I need you.”
His eyes track my movement and never leave me once. Despite the blood loss and the pain he must be in, his cock is visibly hard against the fabric of his pants, tenting the material obscenely. “Come here, Princess.”
“This is a terrible idea,” Weller mutters, but he’s already moving to help Owen settle against the rock wall, propping him up so his injured shoulder is protected.
I pull Weller’s shirt over my head, my arms feeling weak.
The cool night air hits my overheated skin, and I shiver.
Goosebumps rise across my flesh, even as sweat continues to bead between my breasts and down my spine.
My nipples ache for someone’s mouth on them, the pink peaks tightening further as all four alphas stare.
When Owen’s eyes drop to them, his expression goes feral, teeth bared. “Fucking perfect.”
“Pants,” he orders, and I realize he’s still fully dressed. “Help me, Freddie.”
Together they work his pants down. When his cock springs free, thick and hard, my mouth actually waters. I can taste him already.
Freddie touches my arm, and I lean into him. “Hey,” he says softly, eyes serious despite the flush high on his cheeks. “If anything hurts you or you want it to stop, tell us. We will.”
“I know.” I don’t want to be treated like I’m fragile. Not now, not when every cell in my body is screaming for this. I want this. I want all of them. My gaze drifts between these four men, each one a different kind of beautiful, each one mine.
The knot at the base of Owen’s cock is starting to swell already, the flesh darker and thicker. I lick my lips, imagining the stretch, the fullness, the relief.
“Look at you,” Owen breathes, the hand from his good side fisting his own cock slowly, spreading the wetness at the tip down the shaft. His chest rises and falls rapidly, pain and desire warring in his expression.
I move to straddle him, my thighs bracketing his hips, careful not to jostle his injured side. The heat of his skin against mine makes me dizzy.
“Nice and easy,” Freddie says, his hands on my hips to guide me. His fingers dig into the soft flesh there, betraying his own need. “Be careful.”
Careful. The word is absurd when every cell in my body is screaming. But I force myself to move slowly, positioning myself over Owen while Freddie keeps me steady. I can feel slickness running down my inner thighs. I’m embarrassingly wet.
“That’s it,” Owen growls, his good hand sliding between my legs, fingers tracing through the wetness there. “Fuck.”
His fingers slide through me, and just that simple touch has me biting my lip and wanting to scream.
When he pushes two fingers inside, I can’t stop the sound that comes out.
The stretch burns in the best way, my walls clenching greedily around him.
“So fucking tight,” he says, voice strained. “Gonna stretch you open on my knot.”
“Owen,” I whine, grinding down on his fingers, chasing more.
“What do you need, Princess?” His thumb finds my clit, the callus on his finger creating delicious friction against the sensitive spot. “Tell me.”
“You,” I gasp, my hips jerking as he presses harder. “I need you. Inside me. Now.”
He pulls his fingers out, and I nearly cry, but then Freddie helps me lift myself into position, the broad head of Owen’s cock pressing against my entrance.
“Go slow,” Freddie warns, his breath hot against my ear.
“Fuck slow,” Owen growls, his hand moving to grip my hip. “Ride me however you want, Princess.”
But I do go slow at first, sinking down inch by careful inch, taking just the tip before lifting back up. The tease is killing us both—I can see it in the way his face scrunches up and in the trembling of my own thighs.
“More,” Owen demands. “Stop babying me.”
“You were shot,” I remind him, still moving with agonizing care, watching his face for any sign of pain. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You think I give a fuck about my shoulder right now?”
“I’m sorry you can’t fully enjoy this,” I whisper, guilt mixing with pleasure as I sink down another inch. “Sorry you got hurt—”
“Princess,” he cuts me off, his voice intense, eyes locked on mine. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? Since the first time I touched myself. I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Now stop apologizing and fuck me.”
That breaks my control. I sink down harder, faster, taking more of him. He’s so thick; the stretch makes me whimper. “That’s it,” his hips bucking up to meet me. “Take it all.”
Freddie’s hands move to my breasts, cupping their weight before rolling my nipples between his fingers while I ride Owen. The dual sensation makes my rhythm falter. “You look beautiful like this,” Freddie murmurs, his voice thick with want.
“Oh god,” I sob, my head falling back as pleasure builds at the base of my spine. Every touch sends sparks through my overheated body, every nerve ending alive and singing.
Tristan moves closer too, his attention split between checking Owen’s shoulder and the way my hips are moving. “She’s close,” he observes.
“Fuck,” I gasp as Freddie’s mouth replaces his fingers on my breast, sucking hard. The wet heat of his tongue against my nipple sends a jolt straight to my core, and I bear down on Owen.
“So responsive,” Tristan murmurs, reaching out to rub his thumb over my bottom lip. The pad of his finger is rough against the sensitive flesh before he leans in to press a soft kiss against my mouth.
It’s easy to lose myself in them. I’m tired of hurting. I just want to feel good. My movements are more erratic now as I chase the orgasm building low in my belly. Owen’s face is tight with strain—his shoulder must be screaming, but he doesn’t complain, his eyes fixed on where our bodies join.
“Owen,” I whine, feeling myself flutter around his length.
“Back the hell up,” Owen suddenly barks, aimed at Tristan and Freddie. “Both of you. Now.”
“She’s ours too,” Tristan points out, though he does ease back, and so does Freddie. The loss of their touch makes me whimper.
“Not while my cock’s inside her.” His hand slides up to cup my breast possessively.
“Be nice,” I gasp, already missing their touches. The more, the merrier in my opinion.
“I’m never nice when it comes to sharing you,” Owen says, driving deeper. “Never have been, never will be.”
His knot is swelling more with each thrust, catching on my entrance with each stroke. The stretch is intense. A perfect burn. “That’s my girl,” he praises as I grind down harder. “Make yourself come on my cock.”
My hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit as I grind down on him, and then I’m coming.
He pushes his knot inside me with one final thrust, stretching me to the point of pain before it tips back into pleasure.
I feel his warmth fill me as he comes, his hands squeezing my waist. I cry out, loving the feeling of him. “You feel perfect.”
I lean down, making sure not to put any pressure on his injured shoulder, and brush my lips against his ear. The position changes the angle of his knot inside me, and it’s delicious, pressing against my insides in a new way. “Owen.”
“What, Princess?”
“I want to belong to you forever.” The words come out desperate and true, pulled from somewhere deep inside me. “I want you to mark me. Keep me, please. Right now.”
“You sure?” But he’s already mouthing at my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “No take backs.”
“No take backs,” I agree breathlessly, tilting my head further to give him better access.
His teeth sink in, breaking the skin there.
The pain is immediately chased by intense pleasure.
As our bond snaps into place, his emotions flood through me: possessiveness, need, and a love so strong it steals my breath.
He comes again with his lips against my throat, his knot pulsing inside me, filling me with another gush of him.
“My turn,” I gasp, and bite down on his good side.
“Fuck!” Owen shouts, and I feel him jerk inside me again.
“Your dads are gonna be really mad,” I whisper, randomly thinking about Tristan’s father loading me onto the helicopter.
Owen pulls me down into a hard kiss. “Princess, never bring up those old fucks when I’m inside you again. Fuck them.”
“They’re dead to us,” Tristan adds darkly from his watch position, his finger tracing the edge of his knife. “I don’t plan on mine breathing much longer.”
“I love when you talk dirty to me, Tris,” I say, and he chuckles.
Owen tweaks my nipple, bringing my attention back to him. There’s a softness in his eyes I rarely see. “Mine,” he murmurs, tracing the mark he’s left on my neck.
“Yours.”
“Weller,” I call softly, still impaled on Owen’s knot. “Kiss me?”
Weller looks torn about leaving his post as he scans the area. But he comes to me, one hand tangling in my hair as he claims my mouth in a deep, soft kiss. “Soon,” he promises against my lips. “When we’re safe.”
Owen doesn’t say anything about Weller kissing me.
“Two more to go in my hot little alpha collection,” I say, looking at Freddie and Tristan.
“I can’t fucking wait,” Freddie promises, watching the movement of Owen’s fingers as they trace patterns on my skin.
Tristan palms my throat and tilts my head up, his touch gentle but commanding. He kisses me with surprising tenderness, his lips soft against mine. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” The vulnerability in his voice makes me shiver, so different from his usual mask.
The walkie crackles, breaking the moment. “Planning for extraction in one hour,” Ezra’s voice reports, tinny through the speaker. “Helicopter to the clearing half a klick north. There’s a storm coming in, but it looks like we might get an opening, so hang tight.”