Chapter 16 #2
I spot the empty champagne bottle leaning in the sand and tip it over with one finger. “Wanna play a game?”
A groan moves through all four men at once. Weller stares at my mouth while refusing me.
“It’s just a little kiss,” I say.
“We are on an open beach.”
“It seems pretty private.”
“Visible from the water, the boardwalk, and the air.”
“We can keep our clothes on?”
Tristan’s gaze moves down my soaked dress. “A meaningful distinction.”
Owen takes the opportunity to nudge the bottle toward my hand and Weller holds up one finger. “One spin. Then we’re feeding you and getting you warm.”
“One whole spin?” Tristan says. “That’s sure to create zero problems whatsoever.”
“No one in this pack listens to me.”
“I always listen.” I set the bottle spinning. “I just don’t always obey.”
It drags through the cooling sand, and the neck scrapes past Tristan, slows near Weller, and stops at Freddie.
Owen’s hand falls from my hip. “No. Why the fuck is he always first?”
Freddie’s gaze lifts from the bottle to my mouth. I crawl to him.
I could close my eyes and pretend no time had passed since I last did this.
Wind tries to lift the skirt of my dress. Freddie catches it before it reaches my waist and holds it against my thigh. His knuckles brush bare skin, but he waits until I settle between his legs before his hand moves higher.
I kiss him, and he melts into it completely - all warm hands and held breath, so careful it makes me want to take over. He peppers light kisses against my mouth until I can’t stand it.
The deep laugh I remember warms my lips, surprised out of him when I climb into his lap, but it disappears as soon as my bare pussy presses against the hard ridge beneath his shorts. His mouth tastes like champagne and salt. The memory of cherry soda slips underneath a second later.
Freddie’s fingers sink into my ass cheeks. He drags me forward, slow enough that every inch catches against me, my clit rubbing against him through the thin fabric between us. I do it again, his hips coming up to meet me.
“Spin again,” Owen snaps.
Freddie tightens both arms around me. “She’s busy.”
“It’s my turn.”
“That’s not how the game works.” I catch his wrist. “And you don’t get to cheat this time.”
Tristan spins. The bottle staggers between him and Weller, and he tips it toward Weller with two fingers.
“Bullshit. Weller’s the least fun option here, and you did it on purpose instead of picking me.”
“I think he could be fun.” Tristan chuckles darkly. “In fact, I’m already having fun.”
Owen pulls me off Freddie’s lap before Freddie decides to let me go and slides a hot hand beneath my dress.
He finds me wet, and not from the ocean.
His eyes close for half a second. One thick finger drags through me, gathering my slickness before circling my clit until my thighs jump.
“That isn’t a kiss,” I whisper. “And it’s not your turn.”
“Consider this a bonus round.”
Weller sits with his elbows braced on his knees, hands hanging loose between them.
“Tristan moved it, so it doesn’t count.”
“You could appeal.”
His gaze goes over my shoulder to the dunes, the boardwalk, the house. “To whom?”
I sit back on my heels between his legs. “Me.”
When I reach for his waistband, his hand closes around my wrist.
“Bianca.”
The warning in my name should not turn me on this much. I turn my hand beneath Weller’s and press my palm to the hard length trapped behind his shorts.
“Tell me no.”
His thumb finds my pulse. The surf rushes in and drags back while I wait. Weller checks the water, then my face, and releases me.
“You said a kiss.”
I look up. “I never said where.”
He lifts his hips slightly. I pull his shorts down and find him already hard, the head of his cock flushed dark, a bead of moisture caught at the slit. I bend and press my lips to it.
He inhales sharply, and the hand beside his knee closes into a fist. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.”
I run my tongue over the head and take him into my mouth.
Weller’s palm settles against the side of my neck while I follow the thick vein beneath his cock with my tongue. I draw back, teasing the tip, then sink lower. Wind throws my hair across my mouth and sticks it to his wet skin and mine.
Freddie gathers it away from my cheeks. His knuckles brush my temple. He loops the length once around his hand and keeps it at the back of my head, firm enough that the slight tug makes my clit throb. “So fucking pretty, baby.”
I take Weller deeper and look up at him, finding his attention on my face. His hips shift before he locks them down, giving me another inch, and for two slow passes he watches my lips stretch around him. Then his gaze cuts past Freddie toward the boardwalk.
I pull back until only the head rests on my tongue.
“Weller.”
His attention returns to me. I close my lips and sink down until he hits my throat, his fingers flexing against my neck.
He lasts three strokes before checking the dunes again.
Someone kneels behind me. Tristan’s fingertips begin at the back of my knee and travel up beneath my dress, then he presses a finger inside.
My moan closes around Weller’s cock, and he slips farther into my throat. He grunts, and the hand against my neck is a solid pressure now.
“That’s it. Take him a little deeper, Omega.” Tristan sucks my slick from his finger. “He needs to see how beautifully you take his cock.”
Then two fingers fill me slowly from behind. My knees spread farther in the sand as he pushes deep and settles his thumb beside my clit.
Owen closes in on my other side. His hand skims my ribs, cups one breast through the wet fabric, then slides down my arm.
He takes my free hand and puts it over his cock beneath his shorts.
I squeeze, and his mouth finds my shoulder while his other hand travels under the hem and closes over my ass beside Tristan’s wrist.
“Greedy little Princess.” His teeth scrape my skin. “A cock down your throat and you still need more.”
Weller looks toward the boardwalk again and I’m sick of it. I pull off him.
“Feel me.” I stroke him once with the wetness my mouth left behind. “Enjoy this. Enjoy me.”
Tristan’s fingers slide out of me as I rise onto my knees and adjust myself to straddle Weller.
He catches my hips before I can settle, holding me just out of reach. The head of his cock presses against me without pushing inside. “Bianca.”
“Just the tip.”
“No.”
Everything below my waist strains toward him, but I stay exactly where he put me.
“Please,” I whisper against his mouth.
His grip shifts higher on my waist. “You know why we need to wait.”
“I don’t know how you could resist her, Weller.” Freddie’s thumb moves over the bone of my ankle, gentle enough to make the praise worse. “She’s so fucking perfect.”
Owen brushes Freddie’s hand away from my ankle as he comes around behind me and cups my breast through the wet dress. “I’d let you take all of me, Princess.”
Tristan’s fingers hook beneath my chin before Owen can settle behind me, turning my face away from Weller. “Don’t be an asshole, Weller. You’re making her shake.” His mouth brushes mine. “Fuck her, or I will.”
I turn far enough to find his eyes. “Then do it.”
Weller lets me go like he’s going to release me and Tristan’s hand closes around my waist.
But then he drags me back and his hips punch up as he pulls me down, driving into me hard enough that a cry tears out of me. His control goes with it. He thrusts a few times, full and rough, before locking me against him. “You do take me so perfectly.”
An engine rises above the surf as a seaplane moves along the horizon. It stays far out, a speck over the water. Weller doesn’t look this time.
Tristan’s hand slides into my hair and turns my face toward him. “Kiss me,” he says, and takes my mouth while Weller is still buried inside me.
My body clamps around Weller as my skin flushes hot and my scent floods my mouth, sweeter and heavier than it was a breath ago.
“Don’t you dare stop now,” I say against Tristan’s mouth, as I feel Weller grow more hesitant.
“Your scent changed.” His voice remains maddeningly measured. “If we keep pushing your body this hard, we may bring on your heat before we can get what we need.”
“I need your cock.”
His grip bites into my hips. I press my forehead to his and breathe until I can form words that are not fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
“Fine, Grandpa.” I lift carefully, and Weller’s fingers tighten as his cock slips free. “You can all just watch me fuck myself, I guess.”