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The command, coming from such a submissive voice, dulcet and light, is the biggest fucking turn-on. She's shorter, smaller than the three of us. And even as time passes and we watch her shed bits of that OFA cloak, she's still so proper and poised, and I don't think that'll ever change. The way she speaks, the way she holds her shoulders back, spine straight, hair perfectly done. She's a lovely, submissive omega.
But she's also the strongest woman in South Loop, and she doesn't even realize it because she can command me, Iggy, and Cass to do anything.
Iggy's teeth shine when he smiles, stepping in front of her so her back presses against my chest. He bites his teeth, snapping them together, before kissing her cheek. "Anything for you, Imogen."
Cass, taking Iggy's place, kisses her other cheek. "We're only waiting on you, angel."
Her perfume blooms again, and all three of us groan, but I snag her by the waist and steal her away. Upstairs, into my room, knowing she likes to be manhandled, I toss her onto the bed, undressing her with feral need.
Each shoe comes off, tossed behind me, then I tear off her sweater thing and the stupid dress that hides her shape. Underneath, she's wearing a strapless bra and basic slick wick panties that match her golden skin tone, and I tug those off, too, leaving her panting, writhing, and wanting in my bed.
"You gotta rub that cherry scent all over my sheets, Im." Crawling on top of her, still fully clothed, I spread her legs while kissing her, dipping two fingers along the seam of her pussy, getting them nice and wet. Her eyes lower to half-mast while I rub her scent into my sheets. "I never want to sleep without your scent again."
Imogen watches, speechless, when I lower down her body. She tries to follow. When she gets hazy with need, her body just wants, her primitive omega brain on one track. I press my palm to her sternum, holding her in place.
Her round tits, lightly dusted with freckles, shake while she squirms against my hold. I roll her quarter-sized nipples, hardened into peaks, between my knuckles, pinching every so often, easing the pressure between barely touching and a firm tweak. Her cherry scent gets stronger by the minute, and her bright blue eyes dilate so wide, you'd think she was in heat. But I know she's here with me, trying to calm her omega into just feeling and being patient. It isn't easy for either of us.
"Red, I want your shirt off," Imogen whispers, clawing out at my chest. I reach behind my head and pull the material forward, tossing my shirt aside while she touches every inch of me. I'm not bulky, pretty thin compared to most alphas, not as thin as Iggy, but I'm tall, and I work a lot of odd jobs, leaving me defined and strong.
She likes what she sees, growing more impatient, clawing at me the more I play and tease. Crawling down her body, I gently lick each nipple, sucking them in one at a time before dragging my teeth down her stomach. Fortunately, she stays put this time, but her hips buck up against me.
I tug off the rest of my clothes and kneel between her legs, and I've made her wait so long, she's dripping wet, her thick thighs squeezing my head in desperation.
"I love how strong your legs are. How needy you feel, how your thighs nearly choke me, you need it so bad. I fucking love your body, Imogen." I kiss the thighs in question, giving each all the love they deserve.
She whimpers my name in gratitude, squirming her hips around, seeking pleasure. Finally, I slip my fingers inside her pussy, parting her lips just enough to kiss her clit, and she cries out.
I don't make her wait any longer, sucking and tongue thrashing her clit, periodically dragging my long tongue along her pretty, wet pink pussy, tasting every cherry-flavored drop, then back to licking and sucking her clit. She thrashes around, thighs flexing tighter around my head before she cries out her first orgasm, and I kept tasting and taking it in.
Before letting her come all the way down, I climb back onto her and pull her up to a seat. Grabbing every single pillow in a mad rush, I stuff them behind her back, and one just slightly under her ass. Wrapping her legs around my waist, I line up at her entrance then thrust in, and in this position, I bottom out almost instantly.
I thrust in quick motions, scooping her ass with my hands, pressed higher against me with the pillow beneath her, and I hold her in place, while we meld together, her pussy squeezing my cock so tight. I had no idea sex could be this good, this visceral.
Imogen's tits press against my chest while I hold her close, barely an inch of space between us, so tight I'm nearly rocking and shaking, barely pulling out anymore, seeking relief deep inside her.
Imogen, my bouncy girl, rocks her body upward, angling so I hit all the right parts, and before long, her second orgasm builds.
She's squealing out in rapid "Ah! Ah! Ah!" moans, and I feel it, we chase it together. A slow build until suddenly it's there, pleasure so blinding it sucks the life out of you. My sensitive cock gets one last deep body tug from her tight-as-hell pussy, and I'm gone, shooting come in one long burst, covering her walls, marking her as mine.
She shakes, her orgasm fading, but before I let her fall too far, I carefully pull out, flatten my fingers and rub her clit, a third orgasm, right on the heels of the second, this one gushing around my fingers. Her body falls limp, and I release her, loving every inch of her slick and sweat-coated body, wrapping her up in my arms. She passes out, but only for a few minutes, before she's begging for more.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I remind her we have a date night later the next day and that we should get some sleep. She whines, but her body agrees because she falls asleep instantly.
Chapter 26
Imogen
Waking up in Red's arms is an actual dream come true. Waking up, lucid, not in heat, feeling his firm erection press against my ass while he's still asleep is even better. Turning over, I tuck my hands beneath my head, watching him scowl, even in his dreams.
Red's obsidian, straight black hair, cut in a way that's a little longer on the top, short on the sides, so it's constantly falling into his face, nearly obscuring his almost white-blue eyes make him look like he's some kind of changeling, from another place entirely. His lips are pouty, jawline angular, cutting up to his cheekbones, and, even in his torn, faded black jeans and t-shirt, anyone could mistake him for a model. He's so pretty to look at. And all mine.
He's all mine.
I brush a length of hair out of his face. Even though Red is one of the nicest people I've ever met, genuinely kind, even to complete strangers, he's always got this scowl on his face, like he expects the worst. So when he smiles… oh, it's a dream.
"You're staring," he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.
I giggle, whispering back, "I'm sorry. I can't help it." Then I squeak when he snakes his arm out, wraps it around my waist, and tugs me on top of him, his thick length between us, poking my belly.
