Chapter 26 #2
“I-I’ll make you fucking… regret this…”
“You say that every time. I’m still waiting for you to make it true.”
I continue to edge Tobias at my leisure, working up a nice, slow arousal from the grind of my cunt against his cock and balls and from his pathetic mewing.
The beast sings with pleasure.
If I weren’t on suppressants, I’d have shifted by now, and likely triggered Tobias to do the same.
This process is just as primal as claiming omegas.
But male alphas don’t like talking about the dominance games, about how good it can feel to have another alpha beat you into a pulp, to grind you into the ground.
Not that I’d know. I’ve never been beaten. I just see it on their faces, read it in their bodies, feel it in their cocks.
Tobias wouldn’t admit it to himself, but I’m sure that’s why he sought me out tonight. To be put in his place. And I’m all too happy to oblige.
It’s adaptive, after all. It’s the biochemical process by which alphas can share the same space, by which the strongest remains in charge. Since people don’t talk about it, people forget about it. All these alphas like Tobias think they have a dirty little secret. But they’re all the same.
It’s not a small part of how I’ve built my empire, and it’s how I keep the handful of alphas I employ at Artemis in line. Some of them are smart enough that merely sensing a stronger alpha in the room is enough to settle them.
Some, like Tobias, need to have it fucked into them.
This is the fifth time I’ve edged him, and he whimpers like a whore.
“Please,” he finally gasps, and I know I’ve broken him.
“What’s that?” I lower back down.
“Please…” There’s not a hint of defiance left in his voice. All his muscles are tense, but not in an effort to escape.
I rock slowly, teasing. My own arousal builds. This is my favorite part.
“Please what?”
“Please, I need to cum, I’m sorry, I’m—”
I rock a little harder, giving him the friction he so craves, and his breath catches, his body stiffens.
Then I freeze just shy of the edge, keeping the pressure but denying the movement.
“Oh god,” Tobias moans, throbbing hard underneath me. “Oh god, oh god… Fuck… Fuck!”
The ruined orgasm spills from his tip, spurts across his stomach, cock bobbing in the air. He moans again and again, then trembles, unsatisfied.
“Please,” he whimpers as soon as he can breathe again.
I lift my hips. Count carefully to thirty, keeping my arousal in check.
I lower again, and it only takes the pressure and his pathetic writhing for another ruined orgasm to spill from him.
I lift again, and my cunt aches for more stimulation, for my own release.
Tobias is lucky I need this, or else I’d keep him dribbling for hours.
But I won’t let him know that.
I keep my breathing even as I lower again and grind hard. My inner muscles clench, chasing the spark of my arousal.
“Oh fuck, fuckfuck,” Tobias moans at the sudden sensation, the intensity keeping him back from the edge. His back arches.
I crush his balls under my weight, grinding against the base of his cock, his tip bouncing uselessly against my stomach. The indirect stimulation subjects him to one last torment.
“Jesus!” he gasps. “Shit! Fuck!” He’s practically sobbing as his balls go tense underneath me, and the first rope of cum lands across his face, two more streaking his chest before the rest oozes down his shaft.
He’s coming down, but I’m still grinding hard. As the pleasure tips into overstimulation, he whimpers with pain.
That is what I need to hear.
My breathing thickens, and my eyes roll back, release unfurling at my core. My hips tighten with every wave of my orgasm, my arousal running down his balls.
Tobias is too busy trembling and squeezing his eyes shut to notice.
I still, and Tobias sighs. His body goes utterly limp under me, every ounce of fight gone.
I don’t get the same pleasure out of these exchanges as the other alphas do. Tobias’s face is soft as he floats in the afterglow, high on forbidden bliss.
Satisfaction, yes. Release, yes. But not pleasure, really. I feel the same as I do after a brisk workout.
The available data is limited, but my hypothesis is that the dominant alpha has to stay on-guard. There’s no limit to the number of challengers you might field at once.
Tobias, meanwhile, is utterly spent. I stand, and he stays limp against the floor, moaning lowly with every exhale.
I leave him behind and head for the shower, scrubbing my skin to get the scent of Tobias off of me. The beast is quiet, satisfied, but my cunt still aches.
That can happen sometimes—a physiological overflow, especially from the wariness that comes with being the dominant alpha. Now that Tobias’s stink is gone, I finally feel my arousal. It has a biological solution.
I drop a hand to my cunt, filling the space that Tobias’s cock would have left unsatisfied. It’s a pleasant sensation, but my frustration builds faster than my arousal. The beast is inconveniently quiet.
Just give me what I want, I snarl to nobody in particular.
But then suddenly I’m thinking of Jamie. And my arousal is building, and I’m remembering his scent, the closeness of him in that bed, how I wanted to pull him in and kiss him, to wrap him in my tenderness and—
Oh fuck, I’m cumming. Hard. Hard enough that I lose control, growl rumbling deep in my chest. My whole body convulses, squirt spraying my hands and draining down my legs, waves of true pleasure radiating from my core, making my limbs tingle, my head light.
I’m left shocked, panting in the shower, and I brace both hands against the cold marble wall to steady myself as the water runs down my back.
The beast remains smug, calm.
Is the beast fracturing? Influencing my neurology beyond my awareness? That’s the only thing that can explain this reaction to the omega, the intensity of it even while the beast—or the part of it that I’m aware of, at least—is calm.
I twist the water as cold as it will go and stand there shivering.
Because as much as I hate to admit it…
I’m scared.
#
JAMIE
I follow Morgan when she leaves with Tobias. I don’t think she sees me. When she gets into the back of a limo with him, I stand frozen in the lobby, on the brink of a silent panic attack.
Eileen finds me soon after, her warm presence cutting through the static that threatens to drown me.
She invites me back to the hotel to hang out with her and a few other women from the event.
I feel like I’m encroaching, but they welcome me right in, especially once Eileen broaches the topic of manicures.
It’s a welcome distraction, but it can’t last forever. I finally make it back to the room.
For as cramped as it felt with Morgan, it’s utterly empty without her. Her presence is just that large.
My phone buzzes with a message from Morgan, and I jump to answer it, heart fluttering. Maybe she’s headed back?
The driver will pick you up at 7. Don’t be late.
And that’s it. Must be Morgan’s version of ‘Don’t wait up.’
My heart sinks. But if I have the room to myself, I might as well make the best of it. I draw a bath in the ridiculous heart-shaped hot tub. There’s a fancy bath-bomb next to the spout, probably set out for whoever last-minute cancelled before us.
I slip on my new swim trunks just in case Morgan shows up, then slip into the hot water.
I’ve known the whole time that there’s a fundamental incompatibility between me and Morgan.
But it’s different seeing it. She belongs with someone like Tobias who can match her strength for strength. The idea that alphas and omegas belong with each other is an old stereotype, one that Artemis is re-writing. The entire point of this campaign is mine and Morgan’s friendly disinterest.
It’s good that I’m getting a reality check, I tell myself. I was so close to ruining everything.
But a part of me protests. I don’t usually indulge in this kind of indignation, but I can’t help it—I’m pretty sure it’s not the omega in me that’s obsessed with Morgan. Well, not just the omega.
The omega doesn’t see another alpha as competition, not in the slightest. If anything, it welcomes another alpha, like those old-fashioned packs that keep to rural areas.
But I do. On a very human level. I’ve spent so much of my life resenting stereotypes and expectations that I… kind of don’t know what to do with myself when one seems to apply.
Isn’t trying to perfectly avoid a stereotype as much of a trap as getting pinned into one?
I won’t figure that out tonight, so I put on Home Wreck Fixer and drop the bath bomb into the water, trying to distract at least a little from the unbearable ache in my chest.