Chapter 25 #2
I don’t hear the words, but I see her reaction. Her head snaps toward camera one, eyes wide, cheeks flooding crimson. Both hands pressing to her face as a laugh bursts out of her, half mortified, half electric.
“What did you say to her?” I murmur to myself.
She stares at me through the screen, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving camera one a smile so shy and so devastating that I stop breathing.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
Brody slides off the counter, standing between her knees.
His hands grip her hips, drawing her to the edge.
She wraps her legs around him, and they’re kissing again, harder this time.
Her arms lock around his neck as his hands climb her back.
The moans she unleashes travel through the speakers and through the studio walls and settle in the pit of my stomach with a heat so concentrated that my vision narrows.
I lean back in my chair, my hand dropping to my groin. My pulse is thick and heavy just like my cock right now, beating behind my ribs and behind my zipper, and every instinct is pulling me toward that kitchen, toward her. Except, there’s a power in watching this unfold. In being allowed to see.
Brody’s mouth finds her throat. She tips her head back, lips parting, and the sound she releases is raw and unguarded and echoes through the room and into my bones.
Her hands fumble with his apron strings. He helps, pulls it over his head, tosses it. He’s in jeans and nothing else, and her palms spread across his chest, fingers tracing muscle, and her face is flushed and open.
He pushes her dress higher. His fingers trace her inner thigh, slow, deliberate, and her hips shift on the granite. Her breathing has changed, visible now on-screen, her chest rising and falling quickly.
“That’s it,” I murmur, watching. “Let him take care of you.”
His fingers slide higher under her dress, and she’s shifting before he drags her pink panties down her legs. I’m breathing so fucking hard.
Brody pushes her legs wider and lifts them by her ankles, then has her feet propped up on the edge of the island in the middle of the kitchen. He pushes her skirt up, then looks down and gives a wolf whistle.
“Lie down for me,” he says, and she does just that, her body visibly trembling. His hands travel down her spread thighs, then he steps aside, giving me the perfect view.
“Fuck!” My cock throbs so hard I groan at seeing her laid out for me. Her inner lips glisten. They’re engorged, clear that she’s extremely turned on.
Brody gives me a look, directly in the camera, then winks my way as if to say, You’re welcome.
Asshole, whom I can’t thank enough. Still standing aside, with his back to me, his hand rushes back between her thighs, fingers pressing into her folds, pushing them wider, showing me that gorgeous hole. I’m stroking my cock over my jeans, knowing I’m going to lose control so fast.
Then he pushes two fingers into her, and my Omega gasps, her back arching, her hands flat on the counter surface. “Relax. I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
Different from how I’d say it. He’s gentle and guiding.
I’d be commanding, asking her to scream for me.
Brody coaxes, invites, draws the response out with patience.
And I realize she responds differently to each of us.
That’s the part that destroys me, the way her body speaks a different language with every Alpha and means every word.
He works into her quicker now, and camera two gives me the side angle, his hand between her thighs, her head tipping back, her fingers white-knuckled.
Her mouth falls open, and the cries she releases escalate into moans.
They pour through the speakers and into the studio, where I’m gripping the arms of this chair hard enough to bend metal.
“God, Claire,” I breathe. My hand presses against the ache behind my zipper. Every nerve is firing, oriented toward the woman on the screen whose body is climbing toward release.
I waste no time tugging my jeans open, pushing them down my hips. My cock springs out, dripping already, and I palm it, squeezing tight, imagining it being her delicious pussy.
Brody pushes a third finger into Claire, and she’s writhing, dripping wet from so much slick.
I’d go out there, but I don’t want to ruin this perfect moment when she’s so close to coming.
Besides, seeing how wide Brody can get her, his fingers thrusting into her, stretching her, is an image I’ll never unsee.
I’ll be jerking off to it for years.
She’s loud, our pretty Omega, wriggling, when she finally screams, and I quickly turn down my volume.
With my other hand, I’m beating myself off, eyes glued to the screen, to her pussy sucking down on Brody’s fingers, her hips jerking.
I suddenly shudder, my balls tight, and I frantically grab tissues and catch the explosion bursting out like a cannon.
Eyes shut, I ride the wave, hips jerking as so much pours out.
A growl rolls through my chest as I open my eyes and notice that Brody already has Claire on her feet, facing away from him, bent over, and he’s ramming into her. I laugh because we’re no different. Since the heat, all three of us have been starving for more of Claire, unable to settle down.
I watch for a few more moments, loving how she grips the edge of the island as Brody slaps into her, her body thrusting back and forth.
My pulse is hammering, and I switch off the cameras, giving them some privacy, though I doubt that’s what Brody wants. Regardless, I decide to carve up the video because the one with Claire and Brody turning our taping into a sex video is something I’ll be saving and cherishing.
I get to work, even if I can hear them groaning through the house from the kitchen.
I grin to myself, knowing that tonight, that’s going to be me with Claire.