Page 104 of Feral Omega

"Be my guest," Thane rumbles, one big hand finding my breast to toy with the pebbled peak. "Let's see if you can keep up, pup."

Whiskey bares his teeth in a roguish grin, already lining up the thick crown of his shaft with my entrance. "You just sit back and take notes," he purrs, hips surging forward to bury himself inside me in one slick thrust.

My back bows, a shocked cry tearing from my lips. He's as huge as Thane, that thick length stretching me so wide I feel ready to split in two. If it wasn't for my heat, I wouldn't stand a chance at all of taking him, either. He stills once he's fully sheathed, giving me a moment to acclimate to the delicious impalement.

"There we go," he croons, leaning down to swirl his tongue around one tight peak of my nipple. "Fuck, you feel incredible. Like you were made just for me."

He captures my lips in another searing kiss before I can respond to that, swallowing my whimpers as he begins to move. His strokes are smooth and powerful, each roll of those hips driving him deeper until I can't tell where I end and he begins.

I clutch uselessly at his massive arms and thick trunk of a torso, my nails scrabbling for purchase against his flexing muscles and the scars marking his tanned skin. His muscles may not be as defined as Thane's, but he's bigger, sturdier, heavier.

He lowers himself over me, bracing himself on those pillars he calls arms, and the weight of him crushing me into the bed makes me deliciously lightheaded.

Like a bear fucking me senseless.

And I love it.

Thane's hand roams lower, his fingers delving between my thighs to stroke and tease my aching clit while Whiskey mounts me. Both of them doing that at once has me coming undone, utterly incoherent.

Groping, thrusting, licking, nipping, sucking. They're all over me, their bodies, their hands, their mouths. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, and I feel like I'm going to black out.

They work me higher and higher, driving me to dizzying peaks over and over until the world whites out. Then, I feel it.

Whiskey's knot.

Dangerously close to breeching me.

"What do you think, boss?" he asks in a throaty, lust-filled snarl. "You think she's ready to take a knot?"

"Only one way to find out," Thane murmurs, his voice equally gravelly as he watches intently.

I suck in a sharp breath, equal parts fear and need. I glance down worriedly, and even though he's still buried inside me and I can hardly see what's going on, Whiskey's knot is partially visible. Thick and swollen and utterly daunting, as red as the head of his cock.

My first instinct is to panic, some deeply ingrained survival reflex kicking in. Getting knotted will trap me with him, giving him the chance to bite me—to mark me in a way that would form an unbreakable mate bond—the ultimate claim of ownership over my body and my life. I've heard the horror stories from other omegas, tales of excruciating pain from alphas who took things too far.

But this is different, isn't it?

These alphas aren't complete savages, not really. There's a strange thread of tenderness woven through their touches, a glimmer of restraint and care. They seem to see me as a person. They treat me as one, at least, and not just a receptacle to mindlessly rut into whenever they get the urge.

Whiskey seems to sense my hesitation. He stills his powerful thrusts, one calloused palm cradling my jaw as he holds my stare.

"Easy there, little wildcat," he murmurs, his gaze surprisingly gentle. The low, steady purr in his chest intensifies, and I feel another wave of warmth that makes it easier to trust him. "We're not gonna hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good and get you out of that heat, that's all."

I swallow hard, giving the smallest of nods.

He's telling the truth. I can sense it.

Emboldened by the realization, I arch up to meet him. My walls flutter and clench around the thick base of his shaft. "Please," I whisper, breathless and aching. "I want to try."

Thane rumbles low in his chest, too, and his lips brush the damp curls at my temple in a tender caress. "Such a good girl, so brave for us. Take a few deep breaths and relax that sweet body. Let Whiskey in nice and slow."

I do as instructed, forcing my muscles to uncoil one by one. My hips rock and grind against Whiskey, working that engorged knot against my slick entrance. There's a dull ache of stretching, a delicious burn as my body makes room for the thick intrusion.

The impossible swell of Whiskey's knot presses insistently against my entrance, stretching me wider than I've ever been stretched before. A trembling whine escapes my lips as I fight to relax my body, to accept that incredible girth.

But I'm still too tight, too untried for something that massive.

Whiskey gives a low growl, the muscles in his arms tensing as he fights the urge to simply take what he wants. I can see the war raging behind his eyes. The primal alpha instinct to claim and take relentlessly battling against his restraint.

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