Page 64 of Rut Bar

“That’s good, pet. Now get in the nest.”

Jamie scrambles upright and gets into the nest, then sits there as he waits for his next order. I put a knee on the bed and then I crawl over to him where he’s waiting in the center. One fingernail digging into his sternum is all he needs to follow the silent command and lie back amongst the pillows.

The idea of having such a large, powerful alpha trembling underneath me as he waits for my orders makes my pussy drip with need. I straddle his hips and wiggle my cunt down over his cock, trapping it to his belly and rubbing my clit against him as I ride him and bite my lip.

“God, that’s so good.” I drop my hands to his abdomen and dig my nails into him while my hips pump with the heat’s frenzied need to come. It would be better with a cock in me, but this is good too.So fucking good.

“You’re so hard, pet. Does it hurt?” I ask. “Does your cock ache for me?”

“Yes. I need you bad, Miss Vee.”

I rub harder, faster, and devour the sight of my red-tipped fingers making divots in his washboard abs as I ride his cock without giving him any relief. This is about my pleasure. My needs. And this alpha is exactly where he belongs. Underneath me, giving me everything I need and want, while demanding nothing I don’t offer him in return.

He’s perfect.

Jamie’s large hands cradle my hips, but he doesn’t use them to move me. He doesn’t dig his fingers into me and attempt to shift our angle. Force my hips up so he can line his cock up with my hole and sink inside. He waits. He takes it. And he suffers in my cruel denial as I use him for my delicious, swirling pleasure and give him so very little of his own.

His fat alpha cock is as hard as a rock underneath me. His urge to fall into a rut to match my heat must be fierce. Which means his self-control is strong. As strong as my need to control him? Suddenly I want to test that resolve.

“You’re being such a good boy,” I tell him as I reach down and rub two fingers against his ruddy head. Moisture soaks my fingers, but I can’t tell if it’s my slick or his pre-cum without tasting it. So that’s what I do. I rub my thumb over his wet slit and bring it to my mouth, where I suck it clean and pull it free with a wet pop.

The overwhelming salty musk of pre-cum fades to the creamy coconut of his pheromones. The taste is subtle for now, but when he comes for real, he’s going to be so fucking delicious. I could drink him down right from the source. My omega instincts think that’s a very good idea. I can’t bear the thought of food right now, but I could eat this alpha up and ask for seconds and still be hungry for more.

“Mmm,” I hum as I swipe at his leaking head for more.

He groans and throws his head back, the veins in his neck popping as his cock leaks a steady stream of pre-cum against my fingers. I play with it as I rub myself on his length. It pools on his stomach in rivulets, which I scoop up and bring to my mouth.

Noisily, I stick the pre-cum-laden fingers into my mouth. I swipe my tongue over them and lick them clean, then go searching for more. He’s so fucking mouthwatering, and I can’t get enough of him. I want to catch his cum on my tongue and fill my belly with the flavor of him.

My pussy throbs with aching need. Slick coats him, mixing with his arousal as we make a mess of each other. I ride his trapped cock, sliding up and down his hard length. His dripping cockhead bumps against my clit. I drag it down all the way to his base, where his knot is swelling.

“You’re so handsome.” Leaning down, I kiss him. “So sweet and gentle. Patient, and good at taking orders.” I suck his lower lip into my mouth and bite it gently to hear him groan. “I love giving you orders, pet. My good boy.”

“Yes. I want that, Miss Vee.”

I groan and swivel my hips over him. His cock’s head bumps at my entrance, then slips higher. I lean down and slide my mouth against the shell of his ear as I press my face to his. “What would you give to have that knot inside me?”

“Everything,” he groans, his voice breathy and strained. His cock jumps against my pussy, its length trapped between my labia. “Anything.”

“Good,” I whisper, pressing a tender kiss to the side of his face. I slide my cheek against his, enjoying the prickle of his stubble and the desperate scent of his desire. His pheromones are in overdrive as he tries to woo me, his alpha to my omega. To trap me in his chemical desire.

I nuzzle his neck until I find the source, then lick that knotted ball of tissue under the skin at the base of his neck. He groans, his body tensing under me, as my teeth graze over that sensitive bundle of tissue and nerves. “Because that’s what I deserve. Everything. Now beg.” I nip his scent gland and he descends into babble.

His words string together in a litany of prayers and pleading. “Please, Miss Vee. I want you so bad. I need you so bad it hurts. Please let me fuck you. Let me knot you. Use my cock. I’ll make you so happy, I swear.”

Instead of answering his pleas, I look over my shoulder and find Anthony. He’s gotten naked while I amused myself at our poor alpha’s expense. This is my first good look at him, and the sight of him steals my breath.

He’s whipcord lean, with the faint line of muscles that promises a hidden, wiry strength. His tattoos cover him from his hands to his neck to his thighs. In the center of his upper chest is a tattooed rosary, the cross dangling over his heart. Black and gray cover his body with images and swirling script. I can’t read the words from here, but at some point, I will. I’ll trace each letter with my eyes, and then my fingers, and finally my tongue.

The stark white bandage wrapped around his battered knuckles makes me proud. I wish I’d gotten to see him kick that alpha’s ass up close. Smelled the blood flying. I bet it was glorious.

Maybe the thought of watching one man pummel another shouldn’t make my cunt squeeze with desire, but it does. In the end, we’re animals. During a heat, my dynamic’s core needs are simple. Find a pack, fuck them blind, and lock that shit down with a baby and a claiming bite. Civility can’t argue with instincts.

A death’s head hawkmoth decorates his abdomen and groin. A grim reaper dominates one of his sleeves while an angel stabbing a spear into a serpentine dragon makes up most of the other.

The time and dedication it takes to sit for that many tattoos over so many sessions proves that he’s an extremely patient man who doesn’t balk at difficult things or pain.

That’s promising, because I’ve been called both by more than one ex.

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