Page 35 of Desperate Omega

The alpha takes a step toward me. I don’t hear him move, but I sense the heat of his naked body, and I smell the raw, masculine alpha-scent wafting off his skin. When he speaks, his voice is a smoky whisper, barely audible over the splashing of the water.

“You do not wish me to bathe you, omega?”

“No,” I answer.

It’s not a lie exactly. More like a half truth. My heat wants him to bathe me. My heat wants to feel his strong hands sliding over every inch of my body, exploring me, seeking out my need and extinguishing it with his fingers and his tongue. And more than anything, my heat wants to feel him inside me, thrusting, pumping, bathing my insides with his hot, sticky cream while I howl and moan and beg.

That’s what my heat wants.

But eventually my heat will be gone, and I’ll be left to live with the shame—the shame of knowing I allowed myself to be dominated by an alpha I barely even know.

Brik sighs.

Before I have a chance to react or pull away from him, he seizes my wrist and raises my hand so it is palm up in front of me. I gasp, and my heart races in nervous anticipation.

As expected, the thing which he placed into my open hand is big and hard and smooth, but it is not warm, nor is it round. It is blocky and slightly cool to the touch, with a somewhat waxy texture.

“Soap,” Brik grunts.

“You’re going to let me bathe myself?” I ask as I experience an odd mingling of relief and disappointment.

“Just be careful,” he says. “Thorus will have my ass if you slip and hurt yourself.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” I grumble.

I take the soap and step into the water. It is pleasantly warm. I wade deeper into the middle of the pool, where the water comes up past my knees. Then I carefully walk under the spray of water raining down from above. It feels amazing. Once my hair and skin are fully soaked, I take the bar of soap and work it into a lather, which I spread all over my body, cleansing away all the dirt and sweat and blood.

But there are some things even soap and water cannot wash away. The stiffness in nipples, for example, or the hot, throbbing need down between my legs. The things Markus and Thorus did to me this morning helped cool the flames of my heat for a little while, but now the fire is rising again, and I fear that soon it will be raging out of control, and I will be at the mercy of three dominant alphas.

I mustn’t let that happen.

Cautiously, I slip one hand down between my legs and touch the taut bud of my clitoris. It is even more sensitive than I realized, and a desperate cry almost escapes my lips, but I bite it back at the last moment. Thank the Source for that. Brik is still standing over there by the edge of the pool, and though he cannot see the way I am touching myself, he would surely be able to hear if I let even the slightest gasp of pleasure slip out.

Once I have recovered, I start to stroke my clitoris, slowly at first, then a little faster. Last night, in the barn, I failed to climax by myself, but today I have a whole slew of recent memories to help me. I have the sensation of Markus’s long, hard dick sliding into my body, and the flavor of his hot cum spilling onto my tongue. I have the memory of Thorus touching me inside with his voice, making me come over and over again, until it felt as if I would die from pleasure.

And I also have Brik’s rich, masculine scent.

That’s not a memory. It’s right here in the room with me, and it’s the piece that finally pushes me over the edge and helps me achieve the release my body so desperately needs. The climax hits me hard, like the crack of a whip, and it’s all I can do to keep from screaming. I bite down on my lip so hard I draw blood.

And as the pleasure of my orgasm slowly fades, I realize with horror that it has done nothing to lessen the intensity of my need. Indeed, it has only made it stronger.

“Why don’t you want me to bathe you, omega?”

The suddenness of Brik’s question startles me, and my body goes rigid as stone beneath the pelting drops of water falling from above.

“What?” I gasp.

“Why don’t you want me to bathe you? Is it because of Markus?”

“Markus?”

“Yeah. Is he your mate?”

“No!” I blurt. “He’s just my… my friend.”