Chapter 41 Double Trouble #2
Luca isn’t far behind. He never is.
He fucks her through it, pace going ragged, then slams in deep and comes with a snarl. He holds there, buried to the hilt, knot swelling until it locks them together. The look on his face is somewhere between agony and ecstasy—jaw slack, eyes blown, hair slick with sweat.
I don’t even try to be gentle—I pull Aurora up by the hair, force her to turn, and tell Luca, “Kiss her.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
He grabs her by the jaw, yanks her head around, and mouths at her with every ounce of animal pride he has left. Their tongues tangle, mixing spit and come and the taste of ruined inhibition. It’s a beautiful, fucked-up mess.
And I love every microsecond of it.
I let them have their moment, then slide my hands under Aurora’s dress, finally freeing her chest. The fabric falls away—blue glitter everywhere, nipples hard and begging for attention. I lean in, bite one, suck hard while my thumb finds her clit and circles it slow.
She nearly sobs, the combination of sensations pushing her right back to the edge.
I grin, voice all confidence and threat.
“Think you can handle both your Alphas at once, Trouble? Think you can let us ruin you?”
She looks at me—eyes streaming tears, cheeks red, but so fucking determined.
“Yeah,” she gasps, voice shredded. “I can—fuck, I want you both—”
Luca’s still got her by the hair, but his hands shake. He’s as far gone as she is.
I lean in, wipe her lips clean with my thumb.
“You think you can take my cock in your ass, princess?”
She nods, grinning through the exhaustion.
“Hell yes.”
“That’s my girl,” I say, letting satisfaction bleed through every word. “You’re going to ruin us, Trouble, you know that?”
She just smirks—like she planned this all along.
And maybe she fucking did.
I shove my own pride aside and get ready for the next challenge, which is going to be a whole new level of madness.
It’s obscene—no other word for it.
I stroke her cheek, wipe the mess off her lips with my thumb, then offer it for her to lick clean. She does, eyes locked on mine, tongue flicking over my skin just to taste the last of me.
“Good girl,” I purr. “Now get ready for the real show.”
I can barely wait.
My whole body is burning, every part of me tuned to the idea of splitting this Omega with my rival and making sure the world remembers her name—and ours—forever.
She settles back, ass pressed against Luca’s hips, mouth open and wanting. The anticipation in the room is a living thing—buzzing, pushing, whispering all the forbidden things we shouldn’t do but are dying to try.
I’m going to bend her over, lube her up, and fuck her full.
And I’ll make damn sure she’s the first and last Omega who ever gets to say she conquered both of us at once.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves—first comes prep, and I’m not about to rush the destruction of a lifetime.
I shove her forward, hands braced on the small of her back, ass in the air, slick and swollen and shining in the poisoned light. Her thighs are already trembling—Luca did a number on her, but I plan to take it all the fucking way.
I fish the lube from my pocket—never thought I’d actually need it tonight, but hell, sometimes the universe provides exactly what you want.
I pop the cap, squirt a generous dollop on my fingers, and smear it over her ass, circling the tight ring with slow, deliberate pressure. The chill of it makes her jolt.
She whimpers, arching her back, greedy even as her whole body resists.
I work the tip of my finger inside—slow, gentle, a tease she’s not expecting given how rough we’ve been all night. She clenches down, desperate, and I spend a whole minute just twisting and flexing, letting her get used to the stretch.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” I mutter, half to myself, half to drive her crazy. “You ever been fucked like this before, Trouble?”
She shakes her head, gasping.
“No—never, only—fuck, please, more—”
I add a second finger, working the lube deeper, massaging the spot that makes her hips jerk and her moaning shoot up an octave. I feel Luca’s eyes boring into us—he’s watching, stroking himself, the idea of double penetration turning him on just as much as me.
She’s losing it, panting, sweat running down her back in glitter-streaked rivers. Every little circle of my fingers makes her whole body shake, and when I curl just right, she comes—no warning, just a broken, shuddering scream as her muscles clamp down and her ass milks my hand.
She slumps, boneless, but I don’t stop. I want her right at the edge, ruined beyond repair.
I pull out slow, giving her every chance to catch her breath. Then I pat her on the hip, voice low and filthy.
“You ready for the real thing now? Ready to let me fuck your ass while Luca fills your pussy?”
She can’t even speak—just nods, eyes wild and so fucking hungry for it.
I glance at Luca, flick my chin.
“Lube up, Thorne. I want to see you lose your shit again.”
He hesitates—a split-second, pride and need at war—then reaches for the bottle, slicking his cock with practiced strokes.
He’s hard as hell, tip flushed, veins standing out in perfect relief.
For a second I can taste the electricity in the air—the anticipation, the competition, the promise of something nobody else will ever match.
I pull him down by the neck, crushing our mouths together—biting, sucking, fighting for dominance even now. He answers, tongue shoving in hard, hands grabbing my shoulders like he might rip me open.
I let him have it, then shove him away, grinning.
“Watch carefully,” I say, voice shredded. “Gonna show you how it’s done.”
I flop backward onto the couch, thighs spread, cock slicked and ready. I pat my lap, daring Aurora to take a seat.
She crawls over—slow, unsteady, but determined. She straddles me, backwards, ass hovering right above my cock, and I guide the head to her entrance—pressing, not forcing, letting her own body decide how fast to take it.
The stretch is unreal.
Even with the prep, she’s so tight it’s a fight just to get the first inch in.
She grits her teeth, hands braced behind her on my chest, sweat running down her temples.
I feed it to her slowly—inches, not centimeters, letting her breathe, letting her body surrender in slow-motion agony. Every time she drops a little lower, I rub her clit, circle her nipples, distract her with pleasure until she begs for more.
It takes forever, but I want it to.
When she finally bottoms out—ass pressed to my lap, cock buried to the hilt—I let out a sigh that’s half satisfaction, half disbelief.
“Goddamn, you feel fucking amazing,” I growl. “Sweetest, tightest ass I’ve ever had. You were made for this, Omega. Made to be split open by your Alphas.”
She nearly cries—hips shaking, mouth open, body in shock. But the pride is obvious—she wants to be Number One, no matter what the game.
I lean in, lips to her ear.
“Lift up, Trouble. Rest your heels on my thighs—show Luca what he’s dying to get back in.”
She does, legs spread so wide her whole slicked-up pussy is on full display.
Luca drinks in the sight—eyes blown, hand on his cock, pumping slowly in anticipation.
He slides in, slow and deliberate—lining up with her entrance, gathering some of her slick on his fingers and using it to lube himself further. Then he presses in—inch by inch, a perfect, agonizing stretch that makes all three of us moan out loud.
The feeling is fucking unreal.
She’s stretched to the point of breaking—my cock up her ass, Luca’s pounding her pussy, every nerve ending fused in a chain reaction that lights up the whole universe.
At first, it’s slow.
We move in counterpoint—me pulling out while Luca thrusts in, then vice versa, creating this insane sensation of fullness and release, fullness and release, over and over.
She rides it, body uncontrollable, hips bucking in time with the rhythm.
Every time I slam into her from below, she clenches down, milking my length and dragging me right back to the brink.
Luca’s hands circle her waist, hauling her down onto his cock with brutal force, making sure every thrust is a direct hit.
God, the way she takes it—the way she wants it—is enough to make me lose my fucking mind.
But I’m not letting her off easy.
I grab her tits, pinching the nipples hard, rolling them between my fingers while my other hand works her clit. She screams, then bites her own knuckle to muffle the sound, but I don’t care who hears.
I want the world to know what it means to be ours.
“You’re a champ, Trouble,” I grunt. “Best Omega to ever hit the circuit. Nobody…nobody…can do what you’re doing right now. You love it, don’t you? Love having both your Alphas ruin you at once?”
She can’t even answer.
Just moans, high and helpless, caught on the edge of too much and not enough.
I rock into her harder. Luca matches me stroke for stroke.
The couch creaks, pillows slide off onto the sticky floor, and still we don’t slow down.
The build is monstrous—longer, hotter, more savage than any race I’ve ever run.
And when it snaps, it snaps for all of us at once.
My orgasm tears through me like a whiteout crash—total loss of control, every muscle locking up as I empty into her, hips jerking, cock pulsing so deep I can feel my own heartbeat inside her.
Luca comes at the same time—he slams all the way in, knot swelling and locking inside her, and moans so loud I think he might actually break. He wraps both arms around Aurora, lifting her off my lap just enough so he can piston into her in short, desperate thrusts.
Then he crushes her mouth with his—kiss so violent it’s practically a fight.
In that instant, her pussy milks his knot—squeezing, wringing, impossible to stop the chemical bond that sets in. The pleasure punches through all three of us, a feedback loop of need and satisfaction, as we ride out the storm together.
And Aurora—out of her fucking mind—bites down on Luca’s pec, right over his tattoo.
He yelps, then shudders, and the mark sinks deep—Omega claiming her Alpha, fang and blood and teeth. The scent of it is savage, a warning to any rival that she is now, and forever, off the market.
The high is so strong I can’t even move.
We’re fused—her in the middle, Luca knotted into her pussy, me still locked in her ass, both of us drained and ruined and so fucking pleased with ourselves it’s a wonder we don’t fall asleep on the spot.
The minute stretches out—ten, maybe twenty, maybe forever.
None of us want to break the connection.
None of us are capable of it.
She slumps backward, head on my shoulder, eyes closed, breathing in gasps. Luca holds her up, sweat streaming down his neck. I just cradle her hips, stroking her sides, letting the aftershocks run their course.
In this moment, there’s nothing else—no racing, no sabotage, no world outside the private space we’ve acquired for this heated moment.
Just the three of us, locked together, knowing this is what makes a pack.
When Luca’s knot finally begins to deflate, we move slow—not wanting to hurt her, not wanting to let go. I support her ass, help her slide off carefully, and cradle her while she shivers through the last of the tremors.
Her legs won’t work.
She’s jelly—wrecked, spent, high on pride and exhaustion.
But she’s smiling, soft and smug, like she just broke history and knows it.
So am I.
We sit there, not moving, just breathing each other’s air, until the world finally crawls back in and demands we face it again.
But right now? We’re perfect.
Unbreakable.
The fire alarm suddenly blares, shrill and insistent, cutting through the haze.
Luca and I frown, exchanging a glance, but we move fast, instincts kicking in to protect her.
We help her back into her dress, fingers fumbling but efficient, then I hoist her onto my back in a piggyback, draping my coat over her shoulders while Luca wraps his around her waist to cover her ass in this position.
We slip out the side entrance, Luca already on his phone calling for a car that's waiting by the time we emerge.
No one notices us at first, the chaos of the alarm covering our exit, but as Luca's about to slide in after us, people start recognizing him.
"Hey, is that Luca Thorne?" someone shouts, and another asks, "Was he with Cale Hart?" I smirk from inside the car, knowing the speculation will explode—two Alphas coming from a back alley without their Omega in sight?
The possibilities make me grin wider.
More gossip for the media; it'll only add to the mystery.
The car drives off, tires squealing slightly as we merge into the night traffic, and my phone buzzes with a text.
I pull it out, reading the message: “Raves are where little Omegas burn.”
Clear proof the enemy knew we’d be there, but this only makes me smile further because now we know our stalker is determined to know everything we're doing, so all we have to do is set them up.
The words linger on the screen, a taunt that's supposed to unsettle me, but instead, it ignites a spark of satisfaction deep in my chest.
I glance at Aurora, her head lolling against my shoulder in exhaustion, her scent still clinging to me like a promise, and then at Luca, who's staring out the window with that brooding intensity of his, jaw set.
We've got an enemy who's watching our every move, close enough to know we'd hit the rave, close enough to pull a fire alarm or whatever the hell that was to flush us out. But that's their mistake—thinking they're the hunters when really, they're handing us the bait.
I hold out the phone, my mind already racing ahead.
"Luca," I say low, keeping my voice steady so as not to wake her. "This is our in. They're obsessed, tracking us real-time. We set a trap, make it look like we're vulnerable, draw them out."
He nods, eyes flicking to the text I show him, his gunpowder scent flaring with barely contained rage.
"Agreed. But we keep her safe. No risks with Aurora."
"Obviously," I reply, my arm tightening around her as she shifts in her sleep.
The possessive rage bubbles up, that familiar undercurrent that makes me want to tear apart anything that threatens what's mine. Only Adrian is left who needs an official bond mark, but we already know he’s all in on this.
The car speeds through the city lights, the night air cool against the windows, but inside, the tension is still simmering, a mix of satisfaction from what we just shared and the thrill of the hunt ahead.
Aurora murmurs something in her sleep, her body warm and trusting against mine, and I press a kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent. Yeah, we'll set them up alright—and when we do, it'll be on our terms, with fire and fury they won't see coming.
But for now, I let myself savor this—the quiet after the storm, the pack solidifying, the enemy revealing their hand.
It's not over, but it's starting, and I'm ready to play.