Almost Ordinary #3
I flip to the next photo, and my breath catches.
Owen is on his knees in front of Mack, his head tilted back.
Mack's shockingly huge cock is in Owen's mouth, the beta's lips stretched wide around the thick shaft.
Owen's eyes are closed, his expression one of intense concentration, one of his hands braced on Mack's powerful thigh.
Then the next picture is just as intense. Adrian is kissing Nico, their mouths pressed together, tongues visible as they clash. Adrian's hand is wrapped around Nico's thick cock.
Another flip.
Mack and Owen are both kneeling in front of Adrian, whose legs are spread wide. They both have their heads bent together, their tongues tracing the length of Adrian's long, hard cock, their cheeks almost touching as they lick him.
My heart hammers against my ribs, my face burning, by the time I look at all of them.
I feel like I'm intruding on something deeply private, but I can't stop looking.
Each photo is so powerful and exposed, showing all four men completely lost in each other.
Reaching out, I pick up the first picture again, looking at Mack and Owen kissing. It looks so damn innocent now.
It’s not an affair.
They're together. All four of them.
They’re a pack.
My father would lose his damn mind if he knew I was hiding in a house full of what he lovingly calls sex-crazed degenerates. But looking at the pictures in my hands, I can’t help but focus on the look on all their faces.
Every single one of them is filled with pure love.
My hands tremble as I carefully put the documents back in the box, but I can't bring myself to return the photos. I put the box where I found it, then I sit and stare at the pictures again, my thumb stroking the edge of the final picture.
It’s one with all four of them lying down, with Adrian’s arm extended out, holding the camera to get all of their flushed faces in the frame. In the dim light of the closet, their smiles are soft and lazy.
I wonder what it must feel like to be surrounded by so much love, so much passion. To be wanted that much by not just one person, but three.
My gaze drifts back to the photo of Mack and Adrian. To that shockingly huge cock.
I've never seen one in person, never touched one, but my mind races trying to imagine it. What would that feel like, stretching me open, filling me completely?
A strange, heavy warmth starts low in my belly, and slick gathers between my thighs, soaking into the fabric of Adrian's shorts.
My face burns with shame, but I can't stop looking.
I flip through the photos again and again, my eyes lingering on the intimate parts, on the expressions of pure ecstasy on their faces. I close my eyes and try to imagine it's me.
Me on my hands and knees with Nico behind me, Owen in front of me, Mack and Adrian watching, waiting for their turn.
Before I know it, I’m on my back and my hand slides down my stomach, under the waistband of the shorts. My fingers find my clit, already swollen and sensitive. I circle it slowly, mimicking the rhythm I imagine in the photos, a soft gasp escaping my lips.
The images flash through my mind as I touch myself.
Nico's powerful body, Owen's loving gaze, Mack's huge cock, Adrian's tender hands.
I press harder, my hips rolling, chasing my release.
The pressure builds tighter and tighter, an intense coil low in my gut, until it finally snaps, sending waves of pleasure through me.
I cry out as I come, muffling the sound against my pillow, my body trembling with the force of it.
At the same moment, a gush of wet heat erupts from me, slick soaking through my clothes and onto the blankets beneath me.
My eyes fly open, shocked.
Did all of that come out of me?
I've never produced this much slick before. At least not outside of my heat.
"Shit," I curse as I glance down at my body.
I need to clean this up. I need to strip the blankets and rinse the shorts before anyone gets home and smells what I've done in here.
I push up onto one elbow, and the small room swims.
The closet tilts to the left, the row of hanging shirts smearing sideways, and I have to drop back down onto the pillows before I tip over. My head goes light and swimmy, my limbs heavy and useless, like every ounce of strength I have poured out of me along with a gallon of slick.
Okay. Okay. Just give it a minute.
I press my cheek to the cool blanket and breathe, waiting for the walls to hold still.
They don't, not right away.
I let the pictures fall from my other hand and close my eyes, trying to collect myself.
And then, the shame slams into me right on schedule.
I lie there in the mess I made, breathing hard, staring up at the row of their shirts.
What the hell is wrong with me?
A month of living off their kindness and this is how I repay them, curled up in their closet getting off to their private photographs like some feral thing they took in off the street.
Flustered, I fling one arm over my face, blocking out the sight of their shirts hanging above me like witnesses.
"Cool," I announce to the empty closet. It’s going to take me forever to air out this room. "Agree to marry a monster, jump out a window, then get myself off in a stranger's laundry. Really turning things around, Lyra."
The row of shirts says nothing.
Which is exactly what I deserve.