Page 61 of The Omega Trials: Part One

I bite my tongue and wait to see what he says next, offended but interest piqued. When he doesn’t continue, just sways mildly in the chair, I ask, “How do you figure?”

“Pillow talk, son,” he chortles, which turns into a coughing fit. His face grows red as he hacks. I look at him in disgust, still no clearer on the meaning of his offensive “compliment.”

“Okay, Uncle Ferdinand.” Paisley, the Beryll omega, comes bustling over. She clutches his hand and hands him a glass of water.

He messily gulps it down. “Thank you, my dear,” he rasps and clears his throat.

“Of course. Now, up you go.” She waves her mate over. “Griffin is going to help you back to the guest suites, alright?”

“Yep, yep, very good, my dear.” He gives her a fatherly pat on the cheek before Griffin escorts him out.

“Sorry.” She groans once they’re out of earshot. “I hope he wasn’t regaling you with obscene stories of when he was ayoung buck.”She mimics his raspy, older voice.

“Nothing too salacious,” I assure her. Though I’m slightly irritated she sent him to bed.

I couldn’t care less about his glory days. What I want to know is what the Intelligence Trials contain and why he thinks we will be winning them . . .

1. Play “SOLD” by Lana Lubany through ornamental break

2. Continue playing “SOLD” by Lana Lubany

Proof of Pleasure

Ecker

Her back flattens against the hallway wall, breath sawing in and out the closer I lean in.1 So close our noses nearly brush. So close my heart skips a beat. So close I can see the exact variation of gold dancing in her sky-blue irises.

“Bishop,” I growl. “Unlock the fucking door or give me permission to fuck Sinclair right here.”

“Oh.” She exhales, and her eyes sink to a new level of lust. One so ravenous I question how she’s even standing.

“You want that, don’t you?” My voice is so dark and low, I hardly recognize it. “You want to be flipped around and railed within an inch of your life right here where anyone can see?”

Behind me, Bishop fumbles with the key and she whimpers, her legs squirming with need. His body is nearly trembling with the rut raging through him. The scent of Sinclair’s arousal is so thick in the air, I can taste it on the back of my tongue.

“Fuck it,” he says gruffly, pocketing the keys and kicking the door in.

Instinctively, I shield her with my body from the splintering wood. She jumps at the loud bang the door makes as it swings violently into the wall. As soon as it’s safe, Bishop nudges me aside and picks Sinclair up as she moans, nuzzling into his neck.

I’ve never been envious of such a small amount of contact before, but right now I’m pretty sure I’d cut off my own dick for her to kiss my neck and inhale my scent as greedily as she does Bishop’s.

Burning inside and out, I stride into our common room, tugging at my tie and shirking my suit jacket onto the floor as I head straight for Bishop’s room.

They follow right behind me, and Bishop sets her on the foot of the bed, her breasts heaving with heavy breaths. Her glassy, heated gaze slides between him and me.

“Will you give him permission, Alpha? I need—I need you both,” she whines, and my chest nearly explodes with want.

Bishop cradles her face in his hands, tilting it up. “I will.” She and I both sigh in relief. He grazes her forehead with his lips before stepping aside to face me. “But first, he has to prove that he can give you pleasure—”

I laugh. “I think I’ve more than proven—”

“Withoutalso causing her pain.” His eyes harden.

“Are you gonna tell him, or am I?” I nod to Sinclair.

She chews on her lip. “Tell him what?”

I take a step closer, and she inhales deeper. Tucking my hands into my pants’ pockets, I cock my head to the side and drink her in. “That you’re nothing if not a whore for pain.”

---