Chapter 17 #2
Freddie clears his throat. His lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed, and he still has one hand tangled in my hair.
“So...” He glances around the room. “How are we doing this?”
I slide my fingers free, and Owen leans forward.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe...” I point to Tristan first, then Freddie, Weller, and finally Owen. His whole body goes still when my finger stops on him. “Owen, come fuck me.”
The chair rocks backward, knocking into the wall, and his towel hits the floor before he reaches the mattress.
The bed gives beneath his knee, and then Owen is over me, so much larger up close that the rest of the room disappears behind the breadth of his shoulders. His tan skin is flushed from the shower and my attention is drawn to the thick weight of his cock as it rests against me.
Behind him, Weller crosses to the chair Owen abandoned and sits.
“Pace yourself, Owen,” he says.
I reach for him where he’s hanging between us, but he catches my wrist before I can wrap my hand around him. He sucks my fingers clean without taking his eyes off me, his cheeks hollowing once before he lets them slide from his lips.
“She tastes like that and you expect me to put guardrails on?”
“Yes.” Weller would probably lead a business meeting in the same tone.
Owen’s eyes close and Tristan laughs softly. “This should go well.”
I press my fingers around Owen’s jaw and draw him down until his mouth is almost touching mine. “Are you going to listen to him?”
“I’m trying to, Princess... only because I’m worried about you.”
The answer is so painfully earnest that I kiss him and Owen makes a sound of relief.
His hand closes around my hip and drags me closer, but not close enough, because he hooks an arm under my back and lifts, gathering me against his chest until I’m sitting in his lap with my legs locked around his waist and his cock trapped hard between us.
I love his body like this. The solid wall of his chest against my breasts. The heavy muscles in his shoulders shifting under my hands. His stomach drawing taut whenever I roll my hips and slide myself along his cock. There is no restraint in the way he holds me.
“I need to feel you, Owen.”
Weller opens one cuff. “Easy.”
Owen grips my ass and lifts me. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, and my breath catches in my throat before he has given me more than an inch.
He stops immediately and his forehead drops against mine. Every muscle in his body strains with the effort of holding still, and watching him fight it might be my new favorite thing.
“Good,” Weller says.
Owen eases me lower, and I feel each inch dragging me open as his hands tighten against me. His arms tremble around my body while he feeds his cock to me with agonizing care. I could make this easier. I could breathe and relax and let Weller’s patience settle over all of us.
Instead, I put my mouth against Owen’s ear.
“I want the rest.”
His hips jerk and the last inches drive into me at once, knocking a cry from my throat. Owen groans my name and buries his face against my neck while my pussy clenches around the sudden fullness.
“Owen, give her a moment.”
“She asked for it.”
“And she has it. Let her adjust.”
I bite the lobe of Owen’s ear to hide my smile. Weller’s gaze finds mine over his shoulder. God, he’s sexy.
Owen tries, he really does. He draws almost all the way out before pushing back into me, so controlled it makes his whole body shake. Then another. His breaths come hot and broken across my throat, and each time he fills me, he holds himself there.
Tristan tilts his head as his fist twists over the tip of his cock. “Wrap your arms around his neck.”
Owen’s hands flex against my ass as I loop my arms around his neck.
His chest expands hard against mine, and the next thrust goes deeper because there is nowhere left for either of us to move except into each other.
“There,” Tristan murmurs. “Much better.”
Owen drags his mouth across my shoulder. “I am being so fucking patient.”
I kiss the corner of his jaw. “You’re being so good.”
The praise runs through him. I feel it in the shudder of his shoulders and the helpless throb of his cock inside me.
My heels dig into the base of his spine, pulling him closer as I rock down to meet him. The change angles his cock perfectly, and my thighs clamp around his waist.
“Fuck.” His teeth catch my shoulder and he bites down. “Bianca, don’t keep doing that.”
“Doing what?” I think he desperately wants me to keep doing it.
My fingers slide into the damp hair at his nape and I tug until he lifts his head, finding naked adoration all over his face.
I kiss him softly, and his mouth follows mine when I draw back.
“You feel so good,” I tell him, and his eyes go heavy. “I want you deeper.”
“Princess.”
“I need more, Owen.”
His hips slam into mine.
Weller’s second cuff comes open. “Gentle.”
Owen drags in a ragged breath and slows again, but I can feel how close he is to coming apart. His cock is brutally hard inside me, his thighs shaking beneath mine as he tries to obey while I stroke my tongue along the seam of his lips.
“I don’t want to be treated like I’m fragile,” I whisper, quiet enough that the words belong to Owen even though Weller’s eyes sharpen from across the room. “I want everything you have to give me.”
Owen gives me one deep, helpless thrust.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
I tighten my legs around him and press my mouth to his ear. “My body belongs to you, Owen. You could never be too much.”
His arms cinch around me, and the next thrust has none of Weller’s careful rhythm left in it.
He begins fucking me until there’s no space left between us, no part of me left untouched by the force of his body.
His cock drives through my slick in deep, frantic strokes while he holds me so close that we share every breath.
I cling to him, feeding off the desperate sounds he makes.
Weller says his name once, but Owen doesn’t stop.
The chair across the room makes a small sound beneath Weller’s weight. When I look, his sleeves are folded neatly below his elbows and his forearms rest along the chair arms, utterly still.
He doesn’t speak again.
Teakwood gathers dark and bitter through the room until every breath tastes like the edge of his patience.
The knowledge sends me higher.
I roll my hips into Owen’s next thrust and clench around him. His rhythm falters and he groans, burying himself as deep as he can get, grinding me down against the thick base of his cock while the pressure inside me winds tight enough to hurt.
There’s no technique left in him. It’s just Owen, holding me so hard I’ll wear his fingerprints tomorrow, and he’s fucking me like our leashes never existed.
That’s what does it.
I break on his next stroke, my body seizing around his cock in waves that wipe my brain clean. He growls and refuses to slow, working me through it, and I come apart harder because he won’t.
“Come for me,” I whisper when I can speak again, kissing him, tightening around him, my body begging his for his release.
He follows with my name broken against my lips. His body locks beneath me, arms crushing me to him while his cock jerks and fills me in hot, heavy pulses. I hold his face between my hands and kiss him through every one of them, softer now.
His forehead rests against my shoulder and his hands move over my back. For a while I let him keep me here, breathing into my hair with his softening cock still buried inside me.
Across the mattress, Freddie shifts closer, and a rumble vibrates from Owen’s chest before he reluctantly loosens his hold and gives me space. His cock slips out of me, his release following in a warm spill between my thighs.
Freddie’s eyes track it. “Bianca, do you?—”
“Wait,” Weller says with quiet authority. “Bianca, come here.”
Every omega instinct I possess turns toward him, but I resist the urge to go to him.
“You heard him, Bianca.” Tristan’s voice drifts from where he’s watching me. “And I think you should crawl.”
I consider standing just to disappoint him, but I lower my hands to the rug. The first movement sends a gush of Owen’s release slipping down the inside of my thigh.
My knees sink into the thick rug as I crawl from the mattress to his chair, hips swaying, hair falling around my shoulders.
When I reach him, I sit back on my heels.
Weller says nothing as he pats his thigh.
I put one hand on his knee and rise. He gently arranges me across his thighs, settling my stomach over where he strains against his pants.
Oh.
The position leaves my upper body angled toward the rug and my ass lifted. Weller’s fingers follow the mess still slipping down my thigh, gathering it before he pushes it back inside me.
I squirm over his lap, and the moan that slips out only gets worse when his fingers withdraw. He spreads his hand across one cheek. His thumb reaches the crease, close enough to where I want him that my hips move before I can stop them.
“How are your heat symptoms?”
“Better.” I test the answer against the haze in my head. It’s still here but the orgasm brought relief. “More under control.”
“Then you were in sufficient control to know what you were doing when you made Owen choose between my direction and yours.”
“That sounds like a leadership problem.”
Weller’s palm settles heavily over my ass. “It sounds like you wanted a consequence.”
My pussy clenches against his thigh.
“Do you still want my hand, Bianca?”
I look back at him over my shoulder. “Did you think I would change my mind?”
“I think you would continue a bad idea through organ failure to avoid admitting you miscalculated.”
Tristan makes an appreciative sound.
“Ten,” he says. “If you want me to stop, you say stop. Don’t endure something you no longer want merely to prove you can.”
“That’s very romantic of you.”
“Do you understand?”
I wiggle my ass beneath his hand. “Perfectly.”
His arm closes around my waist, locking me against him. “Put your hands on the floor.”