Page 73 of The Omega Trials: Part One

Bishop stands on the floor at the corner of the bed between their legs. He props one foot up on the other side of Ecker’s lifted knee. One of Sinclair’s legs drapes over Bishop’s thigh whileEcker holds the other one out so that when Bishop rocks his hips forward in a lunge, his cock lines up with her pussy.

Bishop sputters a curse as his thick head disappears into her. She rolls her neck to the side and her brows pinch together as he sinks inch after inch. Her mouth falls open, and they all moan in unison.

The sound of their shared pleasure is almost too much to bear. My finger hovers over the end call button when suddenly her eyes snap to the camera. I freeze as if she can actually see me, as if she knows I’m watching.

Maybe it’s the rut finally rotting my brain, but it looks like her eyes narrow ever so slightly and a small smirk dances on her lips.

“I lovetakingyou both.”

Once she says those words, there’s no mistaking it. It’s no trick of the eye.

“Fucking bitch,”I thunder.

Shecalled me. Sheset this up. She wanted me to see just how deep her claws are.

Enraged, I scream into the phone. Not even words, just a roar like a wild animal.

Fuck this. Fuck her.

I undo my pants with such force, I break the damn zipper. The sound of stitches tearing is innocuous next to the burning rage catapulting me into full-on rut.

It heightens all my senses. The video seems better, details I couldn’t see before now clear. It no longer feels like I am listening through a phone. It sounds like they are in the room with me. The sounds of their bodies slapping together, of her begging Bishop to choke her harder, of Ecker grunting with every one of Bishop’s thrusts that sends Sinclair rocking on his cock are all so sharp.

I strip my cock, my fist pumping up and down. I spit on it and imagine it’s her slick coating my shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I grunt, punching up into my fist.

I’ve never been as mad and turned on as I am now, watching their bodies collide and merge. Bishop pushes down on her lower stomach while Ecker reaches around to play with her clit. It’s a symphony of limbs and movement, their music painfully beautiful.

Sinclair’s voice rises and she chantspleaseover and over. My balls draw tight as I pretend it’s my cock she’s about to come on, my seed that’s going to be spilling out of her.

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she mewls, coming apart once again. The pleasure strikes like lightning, tearing through me as I come violently, cum spewing on my stomach and down my fist.

Ecker and Bishop finish with bellowing groans, and immediately the sick feeling of losing comes over me. Any afterglow is gone the second she looks breathlessly at the camera and smiles deviously, trailing her tongue across her teeth.

I’m struck with such an overwhelming feeling of loss, and want, and need, and heartache that my jaw cramps and my eyes burn. I’m so angry and frustrated and spent in more ways than one that I don’t immediately recognize this unfamiliar physical urge.

Stinging, my eyes begin to water, and I realize I’m about to fuckingcry.

I hurl my phone at the wall with a yell and hear the glass screen shatter.

She won, and I don’t fucking care.

I choke as the first tear spills.

I care.

I care too damn much.

1. Play “PIECES” by Elley Duhé

Mate

Ecker

Ican sense Bishop’s energy spark the closer we get to our wing, heading back from a sunset run around the grounds.1 I feel the same. Sometimes, it’s subtle, and other times it’s glaring. But this feeling, this shift, when we know we’re coming back to her . . . I can only describe it as giddiness, but it’s so much more.

It’s like my heart beats to a new rhythm when I’m with her and this awkward gallop is its transitional pace.

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