Chapter Seventeen

Dylan had jerked off more times in the past six hours than he had in his entire depraved teenaged years.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t true, but it sure as hell felt like it. If he’d thought Tracy’s scent and the sounds the day before had been bad, they were nothing compared to her being in full heat. And Mason and Sam? He had to give the alphas credit, because each time those waves started up again, when her voice turned needy and demanding, they seemed to step up.

Meanwhile, Dylan paced the house between his masturbation breaks.

The running of a shower surprised him as he walked back into the house, having stood on the back porch like that would help. Him in only sweats with an erection like a fucking tent-pole had driven him back to the safety of the house, because he didn’t need Sam getting calls from his neighbors about some pervert flashing his hard-on around.

A few steps closer and Dylan caught a wafting of Tracy’s scent through the closed bathroom door. The heat wasn’t over—couldn’t be—so what was she doing?

He opened the door, no sense of the other alphas inside. Cold air blasted him, and a soft whine came with it.

In the bottom of the tub, Tracy had curled into a fetal position, water raining down on her, her skin red from the freezing temperature of the shower.

He could turn around. He should turn around. He’d go get Sam or Mason to deal with it. This was their problem, their responsibility.

However, Tracy hurting and in heat hypothetically was a fuck-lot different from actually seeing that shit.

Dylan closed the door behind him, then reached in to turn off the water.

She opened her eyes, offering a weak glare. “Go away.”

“What are you doing in here, Red? Because I’m pretty sure what you need is back in that room, not in a shower.”

She shivered, yet even with that, new drops of sweat came up on her eyebrow. “I told them I needed a shower. They’ve done enough.”

Enough? Not fucking close given the shaking she was doing, the way she was too worn out to even wince when another wave must have had her lower stomach cramping.

“They say that? Because I’d bet that’s you over-thinking.” He grasped her arm and pulled, getting her off the bottom of the tub. It gave him a look at her very naked body, but he tried his best to ignore it. Enough temptation without spotting those perfect breasts with an almost invisible spattering of freckles, all wet from the water. “Come on, let’s get you back.”

She shook off his hold, but the movement lacked strength. “Just leave me alone.”

“I would have if you’d stayed where you were fucking supposed to.”

“Fuck you,” she shoved out, the curse odd from her, though the way she stumbled over it made him grin.

At least, it did until she cried out, leaning forward, knuckles turning white on the edge of the tub as another wave of that scent hit him.

“Come on, let’s get you back. There’s no reason for you to hurt.” He tried for kindness. He could do kind, right?

“Just leave me alone!”

Fuck kind. Dylan leaned down and got right in her face, pulling his lips back into a snarl. “Look here, Red, you’re fucking hurting and there is no way I’m leaving you in here like this. You either take your ass back to that room and let Sam and Mason deal with it, or I’m about to bend you over something right here and fuck you myself. We clear?”

He tossed the threat out there as if it would send her running, as though she’d realize how stupid she was being, that she’d rather have Mason and Sam and she’d stop being stubborn. She just needed that good push for her to get her head out of her ass.

Instead, her pupils blew wide, the black eating up the amber that had been there. Another inhalation told him the same thing. She wanted him.

Dylan tried to tell himself no, that he needed to take her back, that this was crazy. Except, the way she leaned toward him, the want in those eyes, the acceptance there? He’d never really been wanted before.

He couldn’t let that go. Before he’d even fully realized what he was doing, he’d pulled her from the tub. Her legs were shaky, so leaning her forward against something was out of the question. They wouldn’t hold her up.

Fine, he was nothing if not inventive, especially when he had a good fucking reason to be. Dylan grasped her thighs and set her ass on the sink counter, his lips finding hers, hungry and dominant. She challenged him, and he wanted to rise to that challenge. He wanted to prove to her that he could handle her, and that she could handle him.

Her legs spread around him in a welcome, and between them he found her drenched sex. Her slick, the other alpha’s cum, all of it only served to make his dick harder. Even the water of the shower hadn’t fully washed away the evidence of her heat. A jerk of his sweats to free his erection was all it took before he pressed himself against her soaked, tight slit.

He breathed her in once more, savoring the moment, the heat, the spark between them that he’d spent all that time trying to ignore.

She panted against his lips, breaking the kiss to dig her nails into his sides in a clawing grasp. “You said you’d fuck me if I didn’t go back,” she taunted him.

“Oh, I will, Red.” Dylan slammed into her, silencing any other quips she thought to make.

Her pussy made him suck in a hard breath, the way it wrapped around him in a perfectly tight grasp, the softness and heat that seared deeper than skin. He felt branded, like he wasn’t claiming her at all, but she was taking some part of him, instead.

All the reasons he’d had for why he hadn’t wanted this, couldn’t have it evaporated under the searing heat of her body into nothing. Her chilled skin, still damp from the shower, was the only thing he knew, the only thing he cared about. He grasped her ass to keep her still as he gave her punishing thrust after punishing thrust. He fucked her with the madness he felt, with the growing desire that had started that first day he’d seen her, when he’d told himself there was no way. Each thrust was a response to each time he’d scolded himself, every fucking time he’d pulled back when he hadn’t wanted to. He offered them up like apologies, like penance for his stupidity.

Tracy clung to him, her nails deep in his sides, probably drawing blood, her thighs tight around his hips, her cunt squeezing down on him.

Why had he resisted so fucking hard? What was so terrible about this?

Dylan couldn’t find a single answer, so he plummeted into that madness with her. Their lips met one another, hungry and angry and wild. The movements of their bodies mirrored that, untamed. For everything Dylan gave, Tracy took. No fear sat between them, all that frustration melting into something that burned impossibly hotter.

Dylan bit down on her bottom lip, mimicking the way she would do it to her own. “Fucking hell, you’re perfect,” he whispered, the words flying from his lips before he could censor them, before he could protect himself. He let her see how much he wanted this, how much he’d needed it, how damn afraid he was of losing it.

And that was stupid. He knew it, knew giving anyone that sort of ammunition to use against him was asking for trouble, but he couldn’t help it. Buried inside her like that, when he’d tried to resist for so long, had worn down all his defenses.

So he let her see it all, consequences be damned.

He was tired of fighting it. He was so sick of telling himself not to want her, of having to remind himself that it would only end badly. Right then, he didn’t care. Let her rip his heart out and stomp all over it, because he couldn’t fucking resist her anymore.

A tightening in his balls drew a growl against her lips. He didn’t want to come. He didn’t want this to end. When it did, when he’d satisfied her, would she walk away? Would she return to the room, to the other alphas, and leave him alone? Would he end up on the wrong side of that fucking door again?

Despite trying to hold off, her body dragged him past the point of no return. He pulled in a ragged breath as his body gave her exactly what she needed, as their kiss slowed, grew softer. Even after all the times he’d taken care of himself over the past hours, it was like it knew he was finally where he belonged. Somehow, he wasn’t dry, and the frantic, tiny jerks of his cock as he came inside her let him add his own scent to her, completing something between them all.

He could no longer pull out of her, but that didn’t stop him from occasionally grinding against her, from setting her body off to tighten around him in another delectable tug. Her shivers had drifted away, replaced by hard breathing and occasional whines. She’d reached the point of her heat where she still came but lacked the energy to do much about it. She’d cry out softly, and her pussy would squeeze, but that was all her body could manage.

He eased her through the wait while he had her knotted, his lips trying to say something with the kisses that he knew he’d fuck up if he tried with words.

When his shaft pulled free, when a broken moan left her at the loss, he cupped her cheeks and gave her one more kiss.

With her energy sapped, he drew on his own, pulling her into his arms. Sam and Mason were both asleep in the room, snoring loudly despite their hard cocks, as though even in sleep they knew they were needed.

Dylan settled Tracy into the nest on the floor, the one that had likely looked more made when they had started. He caught sight of one of the blankets. Mine.

Once he’d set her there, she snuggled against the bedding, and Dylan’s chest stung. He wanted to crawl in after her, to stay and be there for the rest of her heat.

Hell, he wanted to be there for a hell of a lot longer.

But that same doubt crept back in. They don’t want me here. I don’t really belong.

He took a step backward, ready to leave her be, but those soft amber eyes of hers opened. She held out a hand to him, then waved him forward, inviting him into her nest.

The action humbled him, stunned him. It was so much more than he’d expected and far more than he deserved.

Helpless against the request, against the desire in him to do just that, Dylan stripped off his sweats fully and moved into the nest behind her. He hauled her against him, fitting her so closely no space remained between them.

He danced his fingers over her bare side, giving himself the chance to touch, to explore, as he tried to rest.

He didn’t know what was to come, but he knew he had more hope than he’d ever had before.

* * * *

Tracy woke as a hard, thick cock filled her, but the easy slide said her body was more than a few steps ahead of her mind.

Even so, she was tired. Exhaustion hung on her bones like a shroud, heavy and dragging her down.

Not that her body cared. A moan slipped past her lips before she’d fully woken, before she’d had a chance to take in any detail beyond the warmth of a body behind her, the scent of alphas surrounding her and the stretch of her pussy around a thick cock.

“You feel good, Red.” Dylan’s dark voice tickled her ear, warm and promising and with the same gruffness he always had.

She shuddered as she surrendered to the width of his hard dick, arching her back to let him deeper, to let him take her over.

Soft lips teased hers, and Tracy opened her eyes in confusion. Dylan was clearly behind her, given the slow, languid thrusts and his hard body against her back.

She found Sam’s smiling face in front of her, and he traced her jawline with his fingers. “How’re you feeling, honey?”

Tracy opened her mouth to answer, but an especially hard thrust from Dylan turned her words to a gasp.

Dylan chuckled as he wrapped his fingers around her hip to steady her.

“Is it over?” She asked the question in a rough voice, tired from the moaning, the cries, the lack of water.

She recalled Mason forcing her to drink a few times when all she’d wanted was more of the males, when she’d have been happy to dehydrate if it meant swallowing down the alphas, instead.

“Almost,” Sam rasped before offering a flick of his tongue to her bottom lip. “You’re almost done. Another hour, maybe, and it’ll be over.”

An hour? After what had been an all-night event, the idea of even another hour made Tracy want to curl into a ball. Even as she thought that, she rocked against Dylan’s thrusts, seeking the delicious way he filled her, how he delved deep inside her.

“You were moaning in your sleep,” Dylan said. He tightened his fingers at her waist and rolled his hips, the action causing his cock to stroke against her inner walls in a new, toe-curling way. “I haven’t had as much work as they did, so I figured I’d take one for the team.”

Take one for the team? What a smart-ass. Tracy elbowed him, but he responded with a nip to her earlobe and another delicious roll of his hips.

Sam chuckled at the display, as though charmed by their interaction. He gave her another kiss before working his way down her body, over her chest, down her sternum, over her stomach. When he reached the place where silver stripes sat on her stomach from carrying Karen, he didn’t avoid them. Instead, he lavished affection over the stretch marks, his tongue paying homage to the imperfections. He traced her hip bones, where they stuck out due to her thin frame, and each area she had hidden, each flaw, he loved.

He didn’t love them with words, but with action. With the brush of his soft lips and the stroke of his hot, wet tongue, he helped erase each unkind word Richard had hurled, replacing them with his own admiration.

He ended up kissing her mound, the glide of his lips to her sensitive skin better than any massage.

Dylan moved from her hip to taking her thigh in his hand and pulling the leg backward, resting it against his thigh.

Sam took the new position to drift impossibly lower still, so his lips played against her newly exposed pussy. He slid his tongue against her clit, a flash of pleasure racing through her.

His growl was low, as though he’d tasted nothing better, as if it woke up the vicious, primal side of him she so rarely saw.

Her heat remained, but it had seemed subdued, as though the alphas’ efforts had quieted and tamed it. They’d turned it from a wild creature to a house pet who purred at the attention Sam lavished to her clit, to the way Dylan stretched her body.

It then occurred to her the missing part, as her pleasure-addled brain caught up.

She searched the room for Mason, for her wild-looking alpha whose easy smile and contagious joy never failed to make her grin.

She found him seated near the top of the bed, making her wonder exactly when she’d moved from the floor. She recalled complaining about her knees at one point, when Mason had lifted her with ease and deposited her on the mattress. She’d missed her nest, but the softness of the mattress, the fact she was already covered in their scent, meant she’d stayed put.

When her eyes met his, he offered her that easy smile as if she wasn’t being fucked by Dylan, as if Sam wasn’t feasting on her. He looked at her with heat, but also a sweetness that had no place in such a filthy moment.

“Hey there, kitten.” He slid closer, taking the space Sam had vacated when he’d moved between her thighs. “Bet you’re tired, huh? Probably sore, over-sensitive?” He pressed a thumb to her bottom lip, toying over the full flesh there. As soon as she nodded, he kept speaking. “You’re almost done for, then you can sleep. You’ll take Dylan’s knot once more like a good girl, won’t you?”

The idea of her body stretching again, of Dylan’s thick knot locking inside her overly worked body made her whine a weak protest.

It was too much. Even as her cunt squeezed down, as the hormones inside her swore up and down that was the best plan ever, she whimpered against the exhaustion.

She needed it like she needed a cold shower during a fever, something that didn’t always feel great but was necessary. She craved his knot, his cum a balm, the only way to chase away the deeper, molten ache inside her.

Mason pressed his forehead to hers while his large hand found her breast, fingers teasing her nipple in a gentle caress. He spoke, his lips brushing hers, his mustache tickling her. “You can do it, kitten. This is the last time, and after he knots you, by the time he can pull free, you’ll be done. Tell me you can do it, hmm? Really, with Sam’s tongue on you, I doubt you’ll notice much of anything.”

Sure enough, Sam took that moment to latch his lips around her clit, his fingers holding her hood out of the way and keeping her spread.

She cried out against Mason’s lips, trying to arch but having nowhere to go, not with the three alphas pinning her between them. Mason swallowed down the sound, a soft rumble in return as though he could taste her distress and loved it.

Tracy gripped Mason’s shoulders as the sensations overwhelmed her, as they crawled through her.

“Fuck, Red, your cunt is so tight. There’s no better feeling than you milking my knot, and the way you struggle is even better. Are you going to come for us again?”

Us.

Up until then, it hadn’t been us. It had been Sam and Mason, then Dylan on his own. He might have gone down on her, and he might have had sex with her, but it had always been on his own. He hadn’t been part of anything with them, more than reluctant to join anything between them.

Hearing him say us, feeling him take her along with the others, moving as a unit, it went deeper than even his dick. Of anyone, Dylan had been clearest that there was no us. Not between he and her, and certainly not between he and any of the other alphas.

Mason closed his fingers in a pinch, and between the pull of Sam’s lips, the tightness of Mason’s fingers and Dylan’s hard thrusts, Tracy came weakly, her body too tired for much fanfare.

The orgasm was harsh, washing through her, and she was too tired to stand against it, to do anything but feel her muscles contract, her sore abs tighten, her pussy clench in quick pulses.

Dylan’s teeth closed on her shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin but tight enough for her to whine at the sting, to have something to focus on as every nerve in her body rebelled in chaos. The bite was as clear a claim as anything else, of him holding her still, of him wanting her and not letting her go.

Dylan’s knot was thick as it locked inside her, his bite loosening to turn into a kiss.

Meanwhile, Sam brushed his lips against her mound, against the top of her slit in some sort of silent thank you.

Mason never stopped his lips to hers, praise falling from his deep voice, whispered along with Sam’s kisses and Dylan’s growl.

She relaxed against them, against their warmth and strength and the familiarity of their scents.

She rested, refusing to overthink the connection, the sense of security between their large frames, between their gentle touches. Tired as they were, they seemed content, shifting slightly to find comfort in the large bed.

Even with Dylan’s knot still pulsing, with her cunt still tightening around him, darkness pulled her under.

And she gave in to it, refused to worry. She’d worried for a long time, had never thought she could have this, and even if it was just for that moment, even if she couldn’t commit to it, she enjoyed it for then.