Page 51 of The Omega Verse

Her eyes light up, and Tom gives me an approving nod. While I get set up, they pull a giant cherry-red beanbag out of storage and plop it in front of me. Cass scurries off to get snacks and wine, and we have quite the festival vibe going when I launch into my first song.

I play ‘Afterlove’, because it would be a crime to kick off with anything else. Cass gets misty eyed, but she doesn’t look away from me for a second, even though she’s curled up against her mate.

And doesn’t that get my heart kicking into a blast beat?

I switch over to a Scare Crew hit, ‘Air Despair’, then slide into a Dread Empire standard, ‘Shadow Rain’. I improv for a bit, and since I want to flaunt my chops, funk it up with some classics. Motown, Led Zeppelin, Nirvana. But I finish with ‘Walk This Way’, because yeah, I’ve worked up a sweat, and I wouldn’t mind my sweetie showing me a thing or two.

To my glee, Cass actually pops to her feet and walks towards me, a little shimmy in her stride. She comes around to the side of my kit, and since I can see some mischief in her smile, I finish with a flourish. Right as her finger hooks around the chain I’m wearing, and pulls me towards her.

“Good show?” I ask as she presses up against my sweaty chest.

“I could listen to you play forever,” she tells me, but her hand is brushing the front of my jeans and I glance over at her mate. “Come have some wine and cheese with us.”

I hope that’s code for more jeans rubbing, especially when she plops herself down in the middle of the beanbag, her hand still on my thigh. When she serves me a glass of something white and fruity, I guzzle it, then swallow down some crackers and cheese, and fuck knows what else. I just take whatever she gives me, my eyes glued to that sparkle in her eye.

“Your poor hands,” she huffs, studying my palm and blowing on the callouses. “We should get you some cream.”

I catch a hitch in Tom’s mouth that could be a smile. “Ah, sure. But I usually just tape ‘em if they blister.”

She looks unimpressed, her fingers massaging the knobbly bits of dried skin. “You need to start carrying antibiotic ointment. Tom, what’s the best sort?”

I look at her mate, who’s rubbing his chin, like he’s taking the matter very seriously. “I can look into it, but slick is pretty good for healing minor wounds.”

I freeze, wondering if my ears are playing tricks on me.

Cass side-eyes him for a second, then asks, “Seriously? Even if it’s not a heat…?”

“Lots of the same properties as alpha juice.” He looks over her head at me. “Lucky for you, we’ve got both on hand.”

I groan, my jeans strangling my cock. “Now you’re just playing with me.”

“A little,” he admits, “but I think Cass wants to play for real.”

I look at her, lingering on the colour in her cheeks and the sheen in her eyes. But it’s the scent of her perfume on the air that makes my abs clench and my mouth water. “You want to fix me up, sugar?”

She squirms and makes a sound in her throat that goes straight to my dick. I’m already plumping out, but when she steers my hand between her legs, my boner inflates all the way. The pressure is getting pretty critical in my jeans, but I ignore my zipper, focusing on my fingers as they slide down her silky thigh.

God, I love her slick. The blankets I took off the bus were soaked in it, but there’s nothing better than getting it straight from the source.

She shivers as my callouses skim her soft flesh. I’m already coated in her juices, but that doesn’t stop me from brushing the front of her underwear. The cotton is dripping, and I wonder if my music got her hot, or if she’s going to be like this all the time when she switches. Either way, I’m a happy man.

“Can I have a taste?” I ask as I find her nub under the fabric and rub it. Her hips lift in invitation and I catch Tom’s eye, wondering if he’s going to wade in. Before they mated, he said it was up to her, but he wouldn’t be the first alpha to change his mind once he got his teeth into his omega.

“Please, Silva,” she mewls, “I need you to touch me.”

Tom gives me a subtle nod and I flip to my knees, ready to serve. But instead of just falling into her pussy and feasting until I’m full, I grab one of my sticks from my back pocket and tease the edge of her skirt. Her eyes dilate, her breath catching in her throat as she watches the tip play along the hem.

“Not sure I should be touching these pretty thighs with my raggedy old fingers,” I tell her, easing the stick up an inch. “Might be better if I go hands-free.”

“Ooh.” The sound vibrating on her plush lips drags a growl out of my chest, but Tom just watches as I tap a quick beat on her thigh. When she opens her legs wider, I slide it up a little more, loving the way the wooden tip starts to glisten with her juices.

Her skirt is one of those flippy, silky ones girls wear at the beach, and it flutters aside as I expose her undies. Plain baby blue cotton, with a nice big wet patch on the front. I roll the tip of my stick back and forth over the soaked crotch, loving the way her hands clench the beanbag. I add a little pressure, then hook the stick under the elastic. “Mind if I take these off?”

She gives a frantic shake of her head, and I grin, peeling them down nice and slow. Tom doesn’t move, and I arch a brow at him when I get them all the way off. “You gonna look after these for later?” What I’m really asking is if he’s cool with me taking this further, and he nods, holding out a big paw for his mate’s dripping underwear. “See how good we are to you, sugar?” I purr as I run the stick up her thigh again. “Any time you want to play, you just have to ask.”

She moans and rolls her head on the beanbag, but her knees are bent, her pretty pussy lifting in my direction. I take the hint and roll the stick back across her mound, her hips jerking at the contact. I swirl it around in her slick-coated hairs for a bit, then nudge the tip between her shining folds. She moans again, louder this time, and I watch in fascination as a trickle of slick dribbles past her slit.

“Don’t waste it,” Tom rumbles, leaning forward, and I scoop it up on my stick and hold it out to him. Cass freezes, watching through hooded eyes as her mate slowly leans over and wraps his lips around the wood. Holy hell, that’s hot. “Delicious,” he murmurs as he sits back, those chocolate-brown eyes flicking down to the straining front of my jeans.

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