Chapter 30
Ophelia
"Greta's gonna murder you," Theo sing-songs to Asher, who's been throwing popcorn at the TV screen. Sully and Enzo had to work, so it's just the three of us, and we've been so busy lately, I begged the guys to have a chill, stay-at-home day where they didn't rush off to exercise or run errands or do whatever it is adults do.
Instead, it's two o'clock in the afternoon, we're watching horror movies in the theater room—I can't believe I live in a house with a freakin' theater room—and Asher's playing a game where every time the heroine does something stupid, he yells "boo!" and throws popcorn at the screen.
"Greta won't ever find out," Asher glares at Theo, throwing popcorn in his direction.
The entire room is basically one massive leather couch, stuffed with pillows and throw blankets. I was horrified to learn they hardly ever used it. Apparently, they were all work and no play before I showed up in their lives.
"Why, you gonna pick it all up yourself? I've never seen you clean a day in your life."
"I know how to use a vacuum, asshole."
"I'm sorry, do you think you clean up popcorn with a vacuum?" I look at Asher incredulously.
"Uhh. What's the right answer here."
Theo snorts and starts laughing. Since I'm cuddled between them, I smack his chest and turn back to the movie.
"I mean, you can with the sucky part of it, right?"
"The sucky part?"
"I mean... the hose part."
"Do you even know where your vacuum cleaner is?" I ask, and he gives me a sheepish look.
Although I haven't bonded with Theo or slept with Sully, things have been great. Both feel like they're on the precipice so I'm trying to not feel anxious neither has happened.
Sully is quiet. Not like Enzo, more like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sometimes, at the dinner table, he looks at me like I'm his salvation. Also, unlike the other guys, he doesn't ask me things; he tells me. Omega, you're hungry, sit down and eat. Omega, you're tired, go to sleep. Omega, you're thirsty, come drink.
That last one, he tugged me into his lap and held out a cup with a straw, and watched me suck the contents down. He was hard as a rock beneath my ass; after I finished drinking, he didn't pull away or take anything further, only giving me a smug look of satisfaction for obeying him.
It's like he's reining in his dominance, afraid to push me too far too fast. Sometimes the guys get dominant in the bedroom, and though I love it, I'm not naturally submissive. But when Sully does it… I can explain it; it sets me on fire. He can scent my arousal, my interest. I don't know what he's waiting for, but it's only building the tension between us.
In the meantime, we've all been swamped, hence the lazy movie day. Between my meetings, the guys' work at Constantine Industries, whatever it is they do there, and checking in on C-Block, I fear becoming all work and no play Ophelia, so I've started putting my foot down, insisting we have a day off once a week where we just enjoy each other and life.
And this totally counts. The villain on the screen with the chainsaw lifts it dramatically, roaring beneath a gross mask made of skin while shaking his arms like an inflatable tube man. "That's just not practical. Those things must be so heavy."
"I don't think practical is the point."
The scene cuts to a young couple, naked, of course, because it's a horror movie, skinny dipping in a lake while the bad guy runs toward them through the woods.
"Again… impractical. I mean, first of all, skinny dipping when their friends all just died in front of them—this isn't a good example of trauma bonding."
"Ophelia," Asher whispers in my ear, so close it makes me shiver.
"Hmm?"
He chuckles under his breath. "I don't think they're trying to be practical. I think they're trying to get off."
The two people on screen bite their lips and smile coyly at one another. Asher's big, muscular arms snake around my waist, picking me up and pulling me onto his lap.
"This isn't a sexy movie," I point out.
"You don't think so?"
On-screen, the guy is playing with the girl's nipples. They're dark against her skin and hard. He flicks and pinches while she moans, the sound echoing around the empty lake.
My shirt lifts over my head. I'm not wearing a bra, and the cool air makes my nipples just as hard as the girl's on screen.
One good thing about being surrounded by strapping, strong men who are bigger and taller and more muscular than you: when they pick you up and take off all your clothes and manhandle you before you've lifted a finger, you find yourself enjoying pleasure brought to you on a silver platter without even realizing it was coming.
Theo kneels between my knees. Asher lifts my body easily in his arms while Theo tugs off my pants, making quick work of it. Suddenly, I find myself naked in Asher's lap, splayed out for the two of them.
"Guys," my voice is gruff. "How did we even get here? I think they're about to get murdered. I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to be sexy." On-screen, the chainsaw-wielding murderer is running through the field. For some reason, he still has the chainsaw overhead. Must be getting heavy, he'll have no strength left when he reaches the hot naked couple in the water.
The scene darts back to them, and this time, her nipple is in his mouth and she's moaning like a pornstar.
"I think we can make quick work of it. You'll be coming before anyone's murdered."
"Such sweet words. Sounds like a challenge." I whimper when Asher's big hands encase my chest from behind.
"You have the most beautiful breasts, Ophelia. Perfect handfuls." He squeezes and massages them, his fingers every few seconds pinching my nipples, tugging them forward into peaks.
I'm gushing slick, and they haven't even touched me there yet.
"And you smell so fucking good," Theo licks his lips, leaning up to kiss me on the lips. His tongue tastes mine, and while his fingers tease down my body, Asher plays with my nipples, and it's nearly too much sensation all at once.
I whimper and groan against Asher, who brings his lips down to my neck and begins kissing and tasting my skin.
Theo takes each of my legs and opens them up, hooking them over Asher's knees, who in turn, wraps his feet around my ankles to lock me into place. I'm splayed out for them both, naked, exposed and dripping wet between my legs.
There's a moan from the screen, and I watch while the two characters start fucking, careless of anything going on around them. I know the feeling.
Locked open, one of Asher's hands goes between my legs, and like an orchestrated symphony, he rubs my clit while Theo pumps one finger inside me, adding a second the more I whimper.
Asher's other hand is pinching my nipple, so I play with the other, and with these two alphas touching every sensitive inch of me, I explode. Asher's fingers flatten and rub harder, faster. Paired with their scents, the comforting lemon and honey from Theo, and the warm woodsy pine from Asher, electricity zaps through me.
"That's right, my beautiful omega, come for your alphas. Give us your pleasure. God, you're such a good girl, coming so hard."
I'm crying, shaking, bucking my hips because my body needs more. Movie abandoned, I'm suddenly flipped—manhandled—in Asher's lap so I'm straddling him.
"I love your tight, warm, wet cunt. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. But you know what else I love?" Theo growls, practically feral, from behind my shoulder. Lifting my ass, his cock slips between my folds, soaking himself in my slick, before pushing my torso forward and pressing into my ass.
At the same time, Asher spreads my thighs, making more room for us, then slams me down onto his cock. Stuffed full of both my alphas, coming down from the first orgasm, I'm lost in the haze.
And, again, like a beautifully orchestrated symphony, they work together, lifting and rocking into my body, fucking and using me like a toy between them.
"I love filling this tiny little hole of yours. How do you fit me, buttercup? How is it possible? You stretch and squeeze around me like you were made for us."
"She was made for us," Asher concurs. "Oh fuck, you feel so fucking good."
I can't muster more than a moan because they're pounding into me. The pressure is incredible, and before long, we all feel my pussy fluttering, ass tightening. Each drag of their cocks, my body milks them both, faster and shakier, my orgasm building higher and higher.
Theo comes first with a roar, but he stays inside me, holding me tightly from behind, focusing his attention on my clit while Asher bucks upward, wildly beneath me. It's becoming choppy, and with Theo's fingers on my clit, we come together in a mess of shakes and jerky movements.
"Fuck yes! Fuck, so good Phe, such a good fucking girl!"
Asher grunts again, and the second his muscles stop contracting, his head drops to my shoulder, tenderly kissing my bite mark.
Theo pulls out, then Asher, and it's wet and sticky, making me shiver. No one moves for a minute, but eventually, Theo gets up and passes out towels, cleaning me up first, then our mess.
A scream from the movie pulls my attention up. "Ew."
Asher chuckles. "I guess we weren't that fast. That's pretty gross."
I start laughing, and though I feel like I'm burning up, in some type of heat spike, and my body shakes from the aftermath of the sex, we relax and finish the rest of the movie.
The jokes resume, the popcorn-throwing commences, and it's the perfect fucking afternoon.
Why have this beautiful house and all this cool shit and not use it? I've not seen the guys swim in their pool once since I moved in. And it's summer! And it's heated!
When the movie ends, since Greta's gone for the day, I convince the guys to help me cook dinner for Sully and Enzo, who will be home soon.
Theo's phone beeps, and a moment later, Asher's goes off. We ascend the stairs into the kitchen, and Theo gripes, "Give me your phone pussycat."
I turn around. At the same time, I tune into Asher through the bond, and it's compounded by an apologetic, frustrated look on his face.
"What's wrong?" I ask them both.
Neither reply, then my phone beeps. Theo leaps for it, trying to wrestle it out of my hands. "Get off me!" I screech. He's nearly a foot taller than me, with hard packed muscle. Of course he steals it right out of my hands.
So, I have to employ other tactics. "Theodore Constantine, you hand me my phone right now, or I will not let you touch me for the rest of the week!"
A look of shock crosses his face, and he pouts like a kicked puppy, as if he didn't just get off inside me. "Oh my god, what is wrong with you? Hand it over!" The phones all start beeping again.
"She's going to find out anyway," Asher cajoles, but he doesn't look too happy either. I hold my hand out and, reluctantly, he places my phone back in my hand.
It's a news alert from the Daily Rag. "Huh."
"Huh?" Theo's eyebrows shoot up. "You're not mad?"
"It's a picture of Enzo and me kissing. Of course I'm not mad."
"Did you, uh…" he clears his throat, "Did you read the headline?"
"Constantine Pack courts stripper from South Loop," I read aloud. "That's… unimaginative."
I take a seat at the breakfast bar and read through the article. I don't care that I'm outed as dating them. I don't even care that I'm falsely outed as a stripper—I ought to write those jerks and tell them I'm an exotic dancer, not a stripper—but I do care about what this article says about Enzo.
I keep reading aloud, "Sources say the fourth, lesser-known Alpha of the Constantine Pack, colloquially nicknamed the Freak of Arrow Cove for his freakish talents in manipulating their stock prices and credited for Constantine's extreme luck in financial pivots and takeovers, has bonded an omega stripper and part-time caterer from the impoverished South Loop neighborhood. Sources also claim the other three alphas, who have not been spotted in weeks, typically with a High Hills beta or omega, are reportedly unhappy with their eccentric brother, and discussions are apparently taking place at the pack's disbandment."
The guys have started collecting dinner ingredients around me like I didn't just drop this bomb. I look up, and even through the bond, I can sense that Asher is more concerned for me than what was published. I look back at the article. It really is a great picture. Enzo and I are in an embrace. He's consuming me, body and soul. It was such a simple kiss, really, but even through the photo, I could feel his love for me. I hate that this article paints him in a bad light.
"Why are you guys acting like this isn't a big deal?"
Theo bites into a raw green bean, shrugging, "It isn't."
"Then why'd you try to keep it from me?"
"Because I knew it would upset you. You have to remember, they only write trash. And it's mostly pictures. The only reputable newspaper in the city is The Cove Herald, but they hardly ever post op-eds, gossip, or society-related news, so it's less popular. Enzo has a subscription." He grins with his teeth, making a point. "You know the Rag's tagline, right?"
"A picture's worth a thousand words," I reply solemnly.
Asher pipes in, "Exactly. Just like all those pictures they posted of us, of me, over the last year, and you know, you can feel it in our bond that they were all bullshit. Some of the pictures might have captured a moment in time, but look at this again," he comes to stand by me and zooms in on the picture on my phone.
"The caption could be about a rogue eccentric selfishly bonding and claiming a woman regardless of his pack's consent. Or the caption could be the truth. This is the lucky bastard that got to bite and fuck you first." Theo snorts from across the room, but I get what Asher's saying.
"But… I mean, it doesn't bother you? What they say about Enzo? I mean, the Freak of Arrow Cove? I keep hearing tha—" My words trail off.
That fucking bitch. This has Bridgette written all over it. That girl just will not let it go. She's the only one I've ever heard call Enzo that.
"What were you going to say?" Asher prods.
Instead of answering, I ask, "Have you ever heard someone call him that? The Freak of Arrow Cove?"
Both men shake their heads, so I let it go, getting back to dinner. While I'm mixing the dough for biscuits, a recipe Greta taught me, Asher comments, going through the stack of mail to get it off the counter where it inevitably collects, "We really need to get off the OFA's mailing list."
He tosses the invitation in the trash, but I see the headline. Omega Selection Gala. My spoon slows in the bowl.
"What's wrong, beetlebug?" Theo asks.
I nod toward the trash and walk over to the counter where the baking pan is ready. Fingers full of dough, I listen to the guys make assurances. They'll get off the list soon, they only pay fees to support the organization until we decide what to do as a pack moving forward, there's no other omega in the world for them, and so on.
Finally, I remind them, "The twenty-second. That's the day my family died. The gala is usually the same day, I guess. I knew it was coming. I guess I've just been so busy and happy… I forgot."
I make balls out of the dough, wiping the sticky substance off my fingers, placing each biscuit a few inches apart like Greta taught me. Like my mom should have taught me.
Asher hugs me from the back. He gives the best hugs.
But now my fingers are covered in wet dough, and his warm, comforting hug, his soothing vibes in our bond, has me shaking. I'm sucking back the tears before they even start falling.
I try to keep my hands in the air to prevent getting dough everywhere, but thankfully, Theo wipes my hands down with a rag, and when they're somewhat clean, I collapse into Asher's arms. He shifts me so I'm cradled into his chest, with Theo's at my back, holding me and letting me cry.
"I can't believe I forgot," I cry.
"You didn't forget. It's two weeks away."
"I usually think about it all the time. But I haven't been. I'm moving on. How can I move on from them? Oh my god, I've been working with the OFA. How could I do that? What kind of person does that after what happened?"
"Ophelia, they died in a car accident. It wasn't anyone's fault. You're not working with the enemy. You're working to improve the lives of other omegas. You're working to make sure what happened to Alma doesn't happen to someone else."
"No, I'm not. Nothing I've done is for Alma. I didn't try to prosecute them, I haven't done a damn thing to make the Olcenes accountable. What kind of sister am I? It's like I've forgotten all about her!" I cry out.
My alphas hold me tighter, letting me be irrationally upset. A few minutes later, Enzo and Sully arrive, and when they take in the state of me, answers are demanded.
"I don't want to talk about it," I sigh once the tears have stopped. They each try to take control in their own way, asking me if I'm okay and trying to talk out the problem.
Finally Sully steps in. "This dinner looks amazing, Ophelia. Thank you for cooking. Why don't we finish, and you and Enzo go relax in the living room. I'll call you when it's ready."
Enzo takes my hand and leads me out of the kitchen so the guys can finish cooking. I insist I'm fine. He can feel through the bond that I'm not, but I will be.
"It's a lot of change," he says against my temple as I'm curled up in a ball in his lap while I play another horror movie in the background. It's not a theater room, but it's still a pretty awesome living room. Big and spacious and cozy, full of blankets and pillows.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Everything. It's only been two months since we came into each other's lives. Since then, you've left your jobs and your home. Your daily habits are different. You're campaigning, working with the OFA and the mayor's office. You've bonded, you're living with a pack that you spent the previous year avoiding. The anniversary of your parent's death is a constant in your life. An anchor, in a way."
"You think it's weighing me down?"
"That's not what I mean. Just that, it's defined you, in a way. Not you as a person, but it's shaped many of your decisions. And that you and your decisions are changing. Change is good, but change is overwhelming and sometimes scary. Both things are true."
The woman on the TV screen chooses that moment to scream. She gets stuck in a garage door as the killer stalks her through the garage.
I hug Enzo tighter. Someone hands me a plate, and the guys ignore me when I suggest we eat at the table. We have dinner on the couch and keep my horror movie marathon going into the evening.
I feel better. Not good, and still sad. But better.
"I want to go," I tell the guys later on that evening.
"Go…" Asher prompts.
"To the Omega Selection Gala. I know we're packed up already, but we'd be allowed to go, right?"
Sully responds, "Of course. We're their biggest sponsor. And it would look bad if, after the headlines you're making, they didn't allow you or us to go. Fletcher would never deny us entry, though."
"Are you sure, Phe?" Things must be serious if Theo's using my actual nickname.
I look back at the TV, then close my eyes and snuggle deeper into Enzo's embrace, knowing I'll fall asleep soon. "I'm sure."
I don't know why, but I feel like I need to go, to attend one of these events—the event, really—that Alma craved so much; not as a caterer or a pretender, but as a guest. As Ophelia Constantine.