Page 227 of Juliet & Her Romeos

“Thelittle Omegais in charge.” I drag his face between my thighs, directing him by his hair where I want him to go.

Eagerly, Swan licks down my pussy, nudging at my clit with his nose.

I allow this for a couple of moments, then I tighten my hold further to hold Swan still and ride his face hard.

Right now, his breath is mine.

He doesn’t struggle. Instead, he licks and sucks desperately like my pussy is his life.

I chase the pleasure that’s winding through me like bright star bursts.

I whine, throwing back my head.

I’m close.

So close.

Almost…

“Stop,” Ambrose commands.

“Please,” I beg.

When Ambrose growls, the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

Ambrose’s dominant pheromones roll off him in waves. It’s just enough to pull me back from orgasm and get myself under control.

I release Swan, petting his hair. “That was perfect.”

Swan licks his lips, looking satisfied. “You’re the only one I’ll kneel for, my Ash Queen.”

“It’s time for the Omegas to put on a performance for us.” Ambrose’s gaze is scorching.

I look up and meet it.

Benedict and I are both his, as well as each other’s.

Ambrose has granted us an equality that I didn’t know existed. At the same time, he loves me with every part of his possessive, fractured soul.

Each time that we’re together like this is a gift from him.

I brush my fingers over my sensitive Soul Mark.

I’m about to be together with my beautiful Omega in a way that I’ve long dreamed about.

I stroll to the piano, deliberately swinging my hips and knowing that my men are all watching me.

I know how to put on a performance.

The tawny, fox tail is bushy. It swings between the pale globes of Benedict’s ass temptingly. I stroke my fingers through it, as Vito steps back to make room for me.

“Aren’t you beautiful, Foxy?” I purr.

Then I tease underneath the tail, over Benedict’s sensitive perineum, before fondling his balls.

Benedict growls and turns quicker than I knew he could move. He snatches me by the shoulders and pushes me down over the piano stool. When he cages me, his silky curls brush over my face.

He’s breathing hard. He looks a wild fox.

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