Page 54 of Omega on Fire

I swallow hard. “Is he okay?”

“He’s more than okay,” Teagan says. “He’s perfect.”

That word cracks something open in me.

“Show our Charlotte that you’re okay, J.” Teagan says tapping leg in a gesture I can only assume means to come closer.

Josiah’s lips part then, not to speak but to press a kiss to the side of Teagan’s thigh. A devotion that silences every thought in my head.

Teagan holds out his free hand. “Come here, Charlotte.”

I step inside the room, letting the door fall shut behind me.

Teagan’s hand is still extended.

I walk toward him slowly, every nerve ending alive and crackling. Josiah doesn’t look at me, but I see the way his breath catches as I get closer, how his fingers curl tighter behind his back. He’s kneeling not because he has to, but because he wants to. Needs to.

I know that need. I felt it in the nest, craving structure, surrender, the relief of letting go. But this is different. This is his way.

Teagan takes my hand the moment I’m close enough. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says, voice like velvet over steel. “But if you stay, you stay as part of this.” His gaze burns into mine. “Can you give me your trust, Charlotte?”

I nod, throat too tight for words.

“Words, Omega.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I trust you.”

He lifts my hand to his lips, kisses the center of my palm, then guides me gently to stand behind Josiah. “He won’t speak unless I say so,” Teagan murmurs, now circling us both like a panther. “But he hears you. He feels everything.”

Josiah’s back is flushed, his breath steady now. I reach out, brushing my fingertips across his shoulder blades, and feel the shiver ripple down his spine. That subtle reaction makes something inside me unfurl. I press a kiss to the back of his neck, tasting salt and surrender.

“He loves that,” Teagan murmurs. “Touch grounds him. Praise feeds him.”

My hands slide down Josiah’s sides, reverent, explorative. My own body sings with want, not justfor Teagan, not just for Josiah, but for this connection, this intimacy that feels like a sacred rite.

Teagan’s hands come to rest on my hips from behind. He presses himself flush to my back, his breath a hot whisper in my ear. “You’re gorgeous when you let yourself feel.”

He guides my hands forward, until they rest on Josiah’s bare chest. “He’s yours too, you know. We all are. He just needs different care.”

Beneath my palms, Josiah’s heart pounds like a war drum.

“Tell her what you need,” Teagan says at last, voice dipping lower. “You may speak.”

Josiah’s voice is a rasp. “Touch me.”

I do. I let my fingers glide down the slope of his chest, tracing the muscle there, the faint tremble beneath. I caress him with unhurried intention, each stroke delivered like a blessing. His head tilts backward, finding support against my stomach.

Teagan moves around to Josiah’s front again, crouches low, his presence suddenly magnetic.

“Open your mouth,” he orders softly.

Josiah obeys without hesitation, his lips parting as Teagan slides two fingers past them, not forceful but firm. Josiah sucks them in, eyes fluttering closed,devotion painted across his face. The sight makes my thighs clench.

“Good boy,” Teagan murmurs, and Josiah lets out a shuddering breath, relaxing into it.

That single phrase, the praise, the permission, lights something inside me. A hunger deeper than heat. A craving for this, this dominance and shelter, this holy surrender.

Teagan looks up at me, his fingers still in Josiah’s mouth, his pupils blown wide. “Do you want to taste him, Omega?” His voice is a low growl now, wrapping around me like silk and smoke.

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