The Dressing Room
Skyla
I tug the snug pink skirt up, trying to get it over my hips. The top fits perfectly—soft cotton hugging my ribs, flattering what little curves I have—but the skirt’s another story. It’s losing a battle with my hips, clinging tighter the higher I pull.
Finally, the skirt pops up over my butt, settling in place. I smooth my hands over my waist, then reach for the zipper on my hip. My fingers fumble when it sticks halfway, teeth catching like it’s fighting me.
“Dakota,” I say, half laugh, half sigh. “I need a hand.”
He’s supposed to be helping. Instead, he’s slouched in the corner chair, long legs sprawled, staring right at the apex of my thighs.
“Dakota,” I say his name again, and this time he jerks like he’s snapping out of a trance.
“Yeah?” He blinks, then opens his eyes wide as he looks at my face. It’s like he’s struggling to focus.
“The zipper,” I say, turning to show him where it’s stuck on my hip.
His eyes linger on my exposed skin, up to my stomach, then back down to my thighs. “Looks like it,” he murmurs, voice low, lazy—like he’s enjoying the view more than the job.
I can’t help but smile, feeling like his gaze is more of a compliment than any words he could say.
“Please.” I tug the zipper again, showing him how stubborn it’s being.
Finally, Dakota pushes up from the little bench, and I can feel the air shift before he even reaches me. When he steps behind me, his reflection fills the mirror—tall, calm, steady—and I have to remind myself to breathe.
Is it normal for a beta to make an omega feel this flustered?
Dakota’s fingers brush my hip, finding the zipper, the barest touch of skin under his knuckles. For a second, he’s all focus—pretending to fuss with the metal teeth, eyes narrowed like it’s life or death.
But then his hand stills and lingers.
He’s not really paying attention to the zipper anymore. His palm drifts up, slow, tracing the curve of fabric where it meets my lower back. I catch his gaze in the mirror—dark and intense. Every inch of me feels suddenly, achingly aware.
“Got it?” I whisper.
He smiles, just barely. “Working on it.”
There’s a quiet knock at the door—gentle, careful.
“Skyla?” Tadeo whispers low through the thin wood. “I found that top you liked in a smaller size.”
Dakota doesn’t move right away. His thumb is still resting against my skin, a tiny, traitorous point of heat. Then he exhales, steps back a fraction, and reaches over to twist the lock.
The door clicks open, and Tadeo steps inside, filling the dressing room in an instant.
The room that felt roomy a moment ago shrinks around him, the air thickens with that subtle, charged edge alphas carry without meaning to.
His scent folds into the air—warm coconut and crisp citrus.
It threads with Dakota’s softer lilac scent, and my knees nearly forget what they’re for.
“They have it in different colors too.” Tadeo hangs the shirt on a hook, then turns to face us. His eyes slip over Dakota first, then they land on me.
The young alpha stares at the short skirt first, taking in my thighs. I tug at the hem—he probably thinks it’s too short. Then his gaze drifts up. Checking out my exposed middle, then over my chest, but when his gaze lands on my face, his brow furrows a little.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I realize I’m frowning, still tugging at the hem of the skirt. “It doesn’t want to zip up,” I admit, then force a smile. “It’s probably for the best anyway. I shouldn’t be wearing something this short.” I gesture vaguely toward my thighs. “They’re too chunky.”
The sound that comes out of Tadeo is a low, warning growl that rumbles deep in his chest. The kind that makes the air vibrate.
I immediately flinch, curling my shoulders inward.
“Your pretty thighs are perfect,” he says, his tone dead serious.
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head.
“No, Skyla. Your body is absolute perfection. Every fucking inch.” His eyes flash as he growls softly.
“I spend hours at work thinking about the way you move and feel. I can’t stop thinking about the way those plush thighs wrap around me—perfect and soft.
” His fingers flex as he glances down at my legs.
“Seeing them right now makes me want to drop to my knees, push up that tiny skirt, and drown in your fucking slick.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. I’m too stunned.
Then Tadeo’s fierce eyes meet mine, and heat floods my face before I can stop it. I look down, biting back a smile, but it’s useless. The corner of my mouth curls anyway.
“He’s right,” Dakota says, not a hint of teasing in his tone as his hand curls tighter around my hip. I glance up at his face, taking in the intensity in his eyes. “Thighs like that give a man purpose in life.”
That makes me melt—soft, breathless, caught somewhere between flattered and undone. Both of them are looking at me like I’m something precious and dangerous all at once, and it leaves me a little unsteady on my feet.
Tadeo steps closer. Just one small shift, but it’s enough to erase the little space left between us. The air feels too thick, too warm. My breath catches as Tadeo’s chest brushes mine, solid and unyielding. He doesn’t say anything—just looks down at me like he’s daring me to move.
“I…um…thank, thank you,” I swallow hard, trying to ignore the deep pulse of my clit. “Thank you for saying such nice things.”
Dakota’s mouth curves, that slow, knowing smile that makes him look like he’s in on a secret. “Silly, omega,” he murmurs, not even pretending to hide his amusement.
But Tadeo doesn’t even glance at Dakota. His focus stays on me, his energy low and intense, like he’s a storm waiting for somewhere to break.
I try to step back, but Dakota’s hand is still firm at my hip, anchoring me in place. The two of them bracket me without meaning to—alpha and beta, scent and steadiness, warmth pressing in from both sides until I forget where I end.
My pulse triples. “Alpha, I—”
Tadeo’s eyes flicker to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and for a heartbeat everything stills—my pulse, the lights, the sound of the rest of the shoppers beyond the door.
And then Tadeo moves.
It’s sudden and certain, like gravity making a choice. One hand slides up to the back of my neck, the other curling around my waist as he closes the last inch of space between us. His mouth crashes against mine.
He kisses me like he wants to pull my soul from my body. Nipping my lips, sucking my tongue, making me moan softly into the tiny dressing room.
I pray no one hears us.
“Fuck,” Dakota whispers, moving right behind me. His hands slip up the short skirt, squeezing my ass. The beta’s warm, wet mouth finds my neck, nibbling at the scent gland at the juncture between my neck and shoulder.
The cloying scent of my slick fills the air as Tadeo devours my mouth and Dakota sucks at my sensitive skin.
I grab the alpha’s pressed shirt, fingers curling in the fabric like I’m afraid I’ll fall if I let go. He tastes so good, bright and sweet, and intensely powerful.
Dakota lets out a breathy sigh against my wet skin as he traces a single finger along the edge of my panties, lingering at the bottom curve of my ass.
I tremble at the simple touch, and Tadeo moans into my mouth.
It’s all so overwhelming. Tadeo’s tongue twisting with mine, Dakota nipping my shoulder, and their hands…they’re everywhere.
Tadeo slides one hand up my shirt, palming my breast while Dakota drags a finger under the fabric of my panties. He pushes his hand between my thighs, forcing my legs further apart as he caresses my slit.
The heat rushes up too fast, and my knees go loose as Dakota’s fingertips find my clit. My vision flickers at the edges, and I reach out on instinct, grabbing onto Tadeo’s shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” the alpha murmurs into my mouth, steadying me with one hand still under my shirt and the other reaching around to palm my ass.
Dakota pushes in closer, his devilish fingers tracing the seam of my sex. His fingers slip over the entrance to my wet opening, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“You have to stay quiet, Sky.” Tadeo ghosts his lips over mine, his fingers inching inside my panties, until he’s touching the mound of my pussy from behind. “Can you do that for us, omega?”
I nod, biting my bottom lip hard as two of Dakota’s fingers push into my pussy.
Tadeo plays in my slick, slipping over Dakota’s hand, before traveling back up. The alpha pokes gently at my asshole, while Dakota pumps in and out of me. Pleasure skates along my skin, and I let my hands fall down Tadeo’s firm chest.
Moving one hand behind me, I fumble, searching for both Tadeo and Dakota’s cocks at the same time. I lazily brush my fingers over the front of their pants—Tadeo’s fitted jeans and Dakota’s slippery gym shorts—feeling their hard cocks through their clothes.
They feel so different.
Dakota’s cock is perfect. Not too big or small or thick. He fills me up just right. But Tadeo…His alpha cock is tapered at the top, but so thick at the base it almost hurts when he ruts me.
And I love it.
The sting, the stretch, the intense pressure that steals my breath.
And the thought of having both of them take me, with the whole world outside of this dressing room completely oblivious, has me spun.
“Fuck.” Tadeo breaks our kiss, snarling when I squeeze the tip of his dick. His eyes flash, then he moves.
The alpha rips his pants down his toned legs, freeing his ruddy cock. I stare at the precum glistening on the tip, then lick my lips.
Shock grips me as the world spins. Big hands force my body around so I’m facing Dakota, my panties are ripped off me, then Tadeo grips the underside of my knees and lifts me clean off the ground.
My legs are spread impossibly wide, my knees pressed all the way up to the shoulders with my soaked pussy on full display for Dakota to see.
I feel so exposed and empty, letting out a soft whimper to let my packmates know I need them.
“Beta,” Tadeo growls softly in my ear. “Put me inside her.”