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Another pulse of power infuses my reply. “Present.”
Remi rolls out of my arms and onto the mattress, immediately situating herself on her hands and knees. The thin light from the room’s single lamp glows off her shimmery honey skin, the globes of her ass are enough to have me gripping my knot, kneading it to relieve the pulsing ache there.
“Lower,” I urge, wanting to see her entire slit. “On your forearms.”
An unpleasant tremble racks her body. When I note the way she hesitates before moving to obey, I snap out, “Stop.”
She freezes instantly. I smooth both palms over her ass, soothing her quivers. There’s something about this that scares her.
“Tell me,” I murmur.
Remi shakes slightly. “The h-heat clinic. They have omegas on their forearms for their whole heat, presenting through a—box.”
She means a cage. They aren’t “boxes”—they are metal cages. I’ve seen how those places are set up. After buying a few to dismantle them, I can easily imagine how uncomfortable that would be for her.
Picturing her bent in half for four days fills me with rage and a thick wash of self-loathing. Why wasn’t I there for her? I’ll never forgive myself for the fact that she had to resort to that or the dubious meds omegas have to take to suppress their heats.
The guys already assured Remi she could stop taking hers. This will be her first heat without them and her Omega will definitely want to present for us. There’s no rush, though. Especially not tonight.
Before I can move her into another position, she decisively pushes her forearms flat to the bed, raising her ass higher. “I want to be able to do this,” she murmurs, quiet but strong. “This is important to me. Can you—can we try?”
Sweet little petal.
“Of course we can try,” I tell her. “Pick a safe word first.”
She considers this for a second, turning to press her face into the sheets, hiding half of the impish smirk twisting her pink lips. “Latte.”
Damn. Fair enough.
“Good choice,” I chuckle, my voice rasping. “Say that if you need me to stop. Otherwise, we’ll keep going.”
Her lips twitch up again. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” I praise, running my hands over her body with more intent. “So fucking good. Are you going to take this knot? Make me your alpha?”
She nods, her damp curls bouncing against her nape. “Yes, Sir.”
Fuck, she’s so perfect. “You look exquisite,” I tell her, kneeling up on the bed behind her. “Presenting for your alpha. You’re doing so well, angel. I’m so proud of you.”
Another wash of perfume fills the air with honeyed warmth. The taste of it is enough to make me half-feral. My voice turns to a growl as I rub my cock between her spread thighs, coating myself in her sweet slick.
Goddamn it. She already feels too good. Her heat bathes my dick as I slide myself back and forth, using my crown to tease her overworked clit slightly. She mewls, pushing her hips back, into my hands. Her eagerness makes me smile and I let it show, knowing she won’t see.
“Impatient,” I tut. “I’ll have to work on that.”
My perfect little petal sweeps her lashes over her eyes. Textbook submission; so flawless, my blood smolders in my veins. “Yes, Sir.”
I take one last moment to admire her, stroking up her spine to nestle my fingers in her silky, kink-curled hair, wrapping it around my fist without pulling. She responds to the position exactly as I hoped—her back expands on faster breaths, a fresh dribble of her honey wetting my cock.
When I push the head of my dick into her, my vision momentarily dips. Her walls cinch around the wide crown. A rough curse sloughs out of me.
Remi’s whine is soft but soaked in need. My body responds automatically, bucking to fill her slick, tender pussy with steel heat.
Fuck. Me.
My control is usually absolute, but once I’m inside her? I can’t even see it anymore. Don’t want to.
She’s already submitted. She’s here, laid out. Mine.
