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He takes a cautious step forward, his warm eyes never leaving mine.

He swallows. “You... You should rest.”

“I did.” I tilt my head. “Briefly. While recovering from being rearranged.”

Ash snorts behind me. I ignore him.

“And now?” Theo asks cautiously.

I smile - slow, feline,sure.

“Now I need you.”

Theo freezes at the foot of the bed, still holding onto the last threads of his good-boy composure.

Meanwhile, Ash leans back, arms folded behind his head like he’s watching his favorite soap opera unfold in real time.

Theo flicks a look at Ash. I'm pretty certain that it’s silent alpha-speak forIs this allowed? Are we really doing this? Are you not going to rip my throat out?

Ash just gives him a lazy smirk and lifts a brow, as if to saybe my guest, princess. I already had my turn.

So I do what any self-respecting, slick-drenched, deeply overstimulated omega would do.

I open my thighs. I arch a little. And I say - deadpan, sweet, shameless -

“You coming, or are you just gonna stand there and pine?”

Theo makes a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a prayer.

Ash chuckles. “Ten bucks says he trips over his own feet.”

“Fifteen if he faints,” I add, grinning. “But double it if he blushes and still gets the job done.”

Theo, bless his golden retriever heart, takes one step forward.

And I swear I hear Ash mutter behind me, “God, I love this fucking house.”

Theo's gaze locks onto mine, wide-eyed and reverent, as if he's stumbled upon a sacred relic rather than a very naked, very ready omega. His hands hover uncertainly, like he's afraid I'll vanish if he moves too quickly.

I arch an eyebrow. “I mean it - are you planning to stand there all day, or are you going to do something useful?”

He blinks, cheeks flushing. “I just... I mean, you're...wow.”

“Smooth, Theo,” Ash chirps. “Real smooth.”

I roll my eyes and reach out, grabbing Theo's hand and pulling him closer.

“Come on, Romeo. Time to put that mouth to better use.”

Theo stammers something unintelligible, but he follows willingly, kneeling between my thighs with a mix of awe and eagerness. His hands are warm and slightly trembling as they rest on my hips.

“You smell like sex,” he murmurs, voice husky. “Like Ash. Like...need.”

I smirk. “Then stop talking and start tasting.”

He doesn't need further encouragement.

He spreads me open with big, reverent hands - his thumbs parting my folds with such aching gentleness. His gaze locks on my cunt, and his voiceshakes.

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