"Harder," I demand, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "I can take it."
He complies, increasing his pace and force. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, punctuated by my increasingly desperate moans. He finds my prostate with ease, hitting it with every thrust until I'm moaning his name.
"Touch yourself," he commands. "Want to see you come on my cock."
I obey immediately, wrapping my hand around my cock and stroking in time with his thrusts. The stimulation is almost too much, pleasure building so fast it's almost painful.
"Close," I gasp. "Fuck, Jax, I'm close."
"Then come," he orders, and the roughness in his voice pushes me over the edge.
I come with a shout, painting my chest and stomach with white streaks. My ass clenches around him, and I feel more than hear his groan as his thrusts grow faster, his knot bumping up against me.
Even before the last waves of my orgasm have faded, I find my hips bucking into him for more. For his knot. It was all too new earlier, too overwhelming, but now… I feel so empty. Like I'll burst into flames if he doesn't put it in.
"Please," I moan, my hands digging into the sheets. The knowledge that Lexie and Aidan are now watching us intently, their mingled scents spiking with arousal, only fuels my desperation. "Your knot, Jax. I need your fucking knot."
Recognition darkens his eyes and he follows through on the next thrust. I feel his knot stretching me open and for a moment, the burn is so intense I think it won't possibly fit, but then it pops in and I come all over again at the sensation of it locking against my prostate.
Jax follows me over, filling me with wave upon wave of his release. He growls low, his face buried in my throat as he inhales my scent and his intensifies around me like a protective shroud. When he thrusts, his knot tugs at my rim just enough it's almost torture, but not quite enough to push it over the edge where pleasure becomes pain.
As he pulses his last inside me, his powerful body relaxes on top of me and the desperate little whimper across the nest makes me painfully aware Lexie is finding her own release on Aidan's hand. I breathe in deep, scenting her arousal mingled with ours, and collapse on my back, every muscle in my body completely spent.
We stay connected for a moment, both panting, both overwhelmed. Jax's knot is still locked inside me, and every slight movement sends a jolt of pleasure through me.
"Fuck," I breathe, staring at the ceiling.
"Yeah," he agrees, sounding nearly as wrecked as I feel.
Lexie and Aidan move closer, creating a pile of warm bodies on the bed. I'm surrounded by pack, by the people who accept me exactly as I am, omega designation and all. The heat is still there, will probably return with a vengeance in a few hours, but for now, I'm sated.
"Thank you," I murmur, not sure who I'm talking to. All of them, maybe. "For this. For not making it weird."
"Why would we make it weird?" Aidan asks, sounding genuinely puzzled. "You're pack. This is what pack does."
He's right. This is what pack does—takes care of each other, supports each other, loves each other in whatever way is needed. And as I drift off to sleep, surrounded by the scents and warmth of my pack, I decide maybe being an omega isn't so bad after all.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
ZAYN
The morning birdsong filters through the windows like a fucking taunt, reminding me I've been awake for the past three hours listening to the sounds coming from upstairs.
Not that I'm complaining. Much. But when you're an alpha with a hard-on that could cut diamonds and your omega and beta packmates are going through a heat a floor above you, sleep isn't exactly on the menu.
Dmitri's been sitting in that chair by the window since midnight, pretending to read some Russian novel that I'm pretty sure he finished an hour ago. The big bastard's got more self-control than me, but even he's showing cracks. The way his knuckles are white around the book spine, how his jaw ticks every time a particularly loud moan drifts down.
Yeah, he's hanging on by a thread too.
"They've been at it all night," I mutter, adjusting myself for the hundredth time. My leather pants—because yes, I wore leather pants to bed like a fucking idiot—are a torture device at this point.
Dmitri grunts, which is his version of extensive commentary. His pale eyes flick to me, then back to his book. "Is their turn."
Right. Their turn. Jax and Aidan got their night with Darren and Lexie while we played guard dogs downstairs. Fair's fair, even if my dick disagrees with the arrangement.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table. Jax.
