Page 12 of The Coveted Beta

But, this time, something has changed, and it is not all down to me.

My hand shakes a little as I dare to run my knuckles down her soft cheek, waiting for a reaction from Alex while wondering what I’ll do if he tells me to fuck off. He doesn’t. “Did he come inside you, Clara?”

She nods slowly, her lips parted as she pants a little. Her eyes are glazed, pupils blown and fixed on mine. They are both getting off on my scent. So what should I do about it?

I should leave. That would be the right thing, the sensible thing, and in a day or two, maybe as much as a week, the influence would start to wear off, and they would come out of the spell, doubtless embarrassed about what they had done.

Except I’m fucking lonely for a connection beyond the quick fucks I indulge in with practiced betas and the occasional mated omega who needs another dick when in heat. Visiting Alex and Clara has become a highlight for me over recent years. I never really asked myself why. Now, I begin to wonder about it at a deeper level. Have I always coveted my friend’s wife?

I had thought I wanted her sister, Rebecca. In some ways, I did. Circumstances and their bitchy older sister destroyed any chance of that. I spent a year searching for Rebecca. When I found her, I knew she was already lost to me. I offered her the protection of my name when I realized she was with child, even as I understood it would be my name only, for her heart was claimed.

I was trying to do the right thing by her, to give her an option when it appeared she had none. Nothing I offered was done with the intention of poaching another male’s woman, and I was genuinely glad when they both came to their senses and committed to one another.

So, I have never coveted a mated or married woman before, although many couples have sought my attention, to see if I was amenable to fulfilling a fantasy or desire—to be an extra dick. And I have engaged in that sort of play, more often than not, because I’m a man with a healthy appetite where fucking is concerned, and the experience was universally hot.

But I never wanted more, even though I enjoyed the experience.

It is different with Alex, perhaps because we have been friends since we were children, or perhaps I have always secretly coveted his wife. Can I go down this road? Can I give them what they both so clearly desire, a hot fantasy, and then walk away?

I only know that I can’t walk away yet.

I rest my hand on the back of her neck and gently work my thumb along the column.

Alex swallows; his eyes are on my fingers—he doesn’t tell me to stop. I’ve been in this situation enough times to read the signs. When I glance down at his crotch, his cock jerks against his pants.

So, this is how it is going to play out, is it?

He’s not a mere acquaintance, and I already know this won’t be an encounter I can forget. What happens will change things between us, irrevocably.

I realize all these things, and I don’t care.

This will all be on their terms, as it always is. Only, this time, it could end badly. He might rescind his permission at any point. Maybe he just likes the thought and not the reality of an alpha fucking his beta wife. Maybe he will take her out on the balcony again and fuck her, and I will be left hanging.

Maybe he will take her loudly and enthusiastically tonight while I lie in my own bed with my cock in my hand, imagining what they do.

Maybe he will let me watch them.

Maybe he will send me packing.

Or maybe he won’t.

It’s a risk I’m prepared to take.

Chapter Eight

Clara

Frederick’s hand is at the back of my neck. It is a big, rough hand. It circles nearly all the way around. His thumb slides up and down at the side of my throat, absently.

Breathing is a challenge as the air whispers in and out of my lungs. My husband is staring at me… no, not me per se, but at the place where Frederick touches me. He licks his lips. He doesn’t mind how his friend handles me. He really doesn’t.

I want to ask questions, yet the words cannot form.

We have crossed boundaries. We have crossed them in a way from which there is no going back. I love my husband with all my heart. I have never once coveted the attention of another man. I barely look at them, truth be told. It’s like they don’t really exist in that way—even Frederick has been in this category before now. I have looked at him more as an opportunity to match-make my unmated, unwedded friends, constructing happily-ever-afters where they have lavish weddings and children and where we are lifelong friends.

I always liked these scenarios because I couldn’t bear the thought of Frederick marrying somebody who was horrible. Mating, I correct myself, for alphas do not wed.

There is something strange in the way my husband watches his friend touching me, a sort of intense focus, one I feel echoes inside me.

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