Chapter Fifteen #2
I smiled against his skin, nipping his earlobe. “Bring it over here, set it next to the nest. Right there, where you can see everything.”
He pulled back just enough to search my face, stunned. “You’re…wait, you’re not serious.”
I gave him my sweetest smile, the one that meant I was absolutely serious. “Oh, I’m very serious.”
Micha snorted from somewhere behind him, low and amused. “Looks like someone’s getting benched.”
Salem chuckled. “I give it five minutes before he explodes.”
“I’ll kill all of you,” Haze muttered under his breath, but he was already climbing off the bed.
“Ah, ah,” I called after him sweetly. “Clothes off. All of them.”
He froze mid-step and turned, that glint in his eye shifting from confusion to pure chaos. “You’re evil.”
“And you love it.”
“Unfortunately,” he muttered, yanking his shirt over his head and toeing off his pants in record time.
He was naked, half-hard and glaring, as he dragged a heavy wooden chair across the room and positioned it exactly where I’d said. Then he sat sprawled out, frustrated, and aching with his arms over the sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.
I gave him one more gift before turning back to my nest. I walked across the room completely bare, hips swaying, eyes locked on him, my scent thickening in the air. I knew what I looked like, flushed and damp and claimed—but not taken. Not yet.
As I climbed back into the nest, I called over my shoulder, “One more thing, Haze.”
He blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You’re not allowed to touch yourself.” I grinned. “Not until I say you can.”
He groaned like he’d been shot, dropping his head back against the chair. “I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“Fuck, I do.”
He shifted in the chair, muscles tense, every inch of him vibrating with the need to move. But he didn’t.
Because he was a good boy .
And I wasn’t done teasing him yet.
Haze was practically vibrating in his chair, jaw clenched, cock flushed and twitching, muscles flexed like he was ready to leap out of his skin. The sight of him alone had heat pooling low in my belly.
But it was the quiet shift of movement behind me that stole my breath.
Micha.
Silent as always, controlled as ever. He didn’t need to announce himself. Didn’t need to speak. He just stepped forward, the weight of him filling the room like a shadow cast by firelight. His gold eyes locked on mine, and everything inside me pulled tight.
He knelt in front of me, his big hands coming to rest on either side of my thighs, grounding me instantly. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low rasp that slid over my skin like velvet over steel.
“You ready for me, Omega?”
I shivered, nodding, breath caught in my throat.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I want you, Micha.”
His eyes darkened, that quiet control breaking apart like glass under a boot. He leaned in and kissed me.
I melted into him, my fingers curling in the soft cotton of his shirt. He slid it off without breaking contact, baring smooth muscle and scattered scars that begged to be touched. I did, tracing my hands up his chest, over his shoulders, until I was anchoring myself to him.
He guided me down onto my back with infinite care, kissing his way down my throat, my chest, my stomach, worshipping every inch.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, lips brushing just beneath my ribs. “All of you. Every broken piece, every healed scar. Ours now. Forever.”
When he pushed my legs open, I didn’t hesitate.
There was no fear in me. Not with him.
Just need.
Want.
Mine .
Micha’s hands gripped my thighs with just enough force to make me feel it, to make me know he was there, tethering me to the moment. He moved with the same stillness he always had, the same coiled precision that made you forget there was a predator beneath the quiet.
But he wasn’t quiet now.
His breath was hot against my skin, and when his mouth closed over the soft flesh of my inner thigh, I gasped.
He wasn’t rushing. Gods, he was taking his time, kissing, sucking, biting just enough to leave heat blooming beneath the surface.
My skin tingled where his mouth had touched.
Every nerve ending came alive under his hands.
I glanced past his shoulder, past the delicious weight of his body holding me down, and found Haze still sprawled in the chair like a statue carved from tension and agony. His eyes were glued to where Micha’s head had dipped, mouth hovering just above where I was already soaked and aching.
“Fuck,” Haze rasped, his knuckles white where they gripped the arms of the chair.
I smirked, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I reached down to tangle my fingers in Micha’s hair.
“You’re doing so good,” I purred to Haze. “Such a patient boy.”
A low growl echoed from the chair, and I could feel the strain it took for Haze not to move. Not to beg.
Micha didn’t even glance his way. His eyes stayed locked on me as he slowly dragged his tongue between my folds, slow and deep. My back arched off the bed.
“Fuck…Micha…”
He groaned in approval, lapping at me like he was memorizing my taste. Then his lips wrapped around my clit, sucking with a rhythm that sent lightning shooting up my spine.
I writhed beneath him, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as he pushed two thick fingers inside me—curling them in just the right way, like he’d known exactly how I needed it all along.
“Sweet fucking gods,” Haze breathed from the chair, hips twitching like he couldn’t help it.
Micha hummed against me, slow and smug.
I moaned louder.
“So good. So fucking good.” I whispered, eyes locked on Micha.
The praise lit something behind his eyes.
He pushed deeper, faster, mouth relentless as my climax tore through me with no warning, my body clenching around his fingers.
I cried out his name, thighs trembling on either side of his head as he didn’t let up, not until I was twitching and panting, wrung out and wrecked.
He pulled back slowly, lips and chin slick with me, his breathing heavy. He stared down at me like I was something divine.
Then, still braced above me, he turned his head, slowly, to look at Haze.
“I’d ask if you’re enjoying the view,” he said coolly, voice low and dark, “but I think your cock speaks for itself.”
Haze’s face was wild. Lips parted. Eyes glazed. A fine tremor ran through his entire body.
“Please,” he growled. “Please. I’m dying.”
I laughed breathlessly and turned my head, locking eyes with him.
“Then die, baby,” I said sweetly. “You’re not done watching yet.”
Micha was still kneeling between my thighs, his mouth slick with me, his chest heaving from the restraint it took not to go feral. I could see it in the twitch of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against my hips like he wanted to flip me over and mark every inch of me until I forgot my own name.
Instead, he kissed the inside of my thigh, slow and lingering, before trailing his mouth back up to my lips. I could taste myself on him when he kissed me, and gods—it only made the hunger worse.
Then I felt another shift behind me.
Salem.
He didn’t speak when he climbed into the nest. He didn’t have to. The air changed and steadied. Cooled around the edges. His scent hit me like a balm to the fire already raging inside me.
He settled beside me, one hand reaching out to cup my face as Micha continued to press slow, possessive kisses down the curve of my throat.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Salem murmured, brushing his thumb over my cheekbone. “All soft and wrecked and perfect.”
I turned my face toward his hand, kissing his palm before reaching up and tugging at his shirt. “Off,” I whispered. “Want to feel you.”
He obeyed without hesitation, pulling the black tee over his head and tossing it aside.
He was leaner than the others, but no less powerful, ropes of muscle built from years of silent strength.
I slid my hands over his chest, fingers mapping the lines of him, the warmth of his skin grounding me even as my pulse thundered.
Micha’s hands trailed up my thighs again, this time slower, more deliberate. He spread me open. Salem watched eyes heavy-lidded, hungry, but patient.