Page 17 of Fight or Fly

“Hmm. Seems like we should be able to do some good with this,” Flynn mused, and closed a meaty hand around my shaft.

It was too much,too much. I keened, trying to scrabble backward on the sectional with my legs trapped by my jeans and my arms trapped by my shirt. The hand on my throat tightened in warning.

“Stay,” Flynn ordered, like someone might command a dog.

I shuddered, compelled by the alpha’s command... forced to lie there and feel what he was doing to my body, whether I wanted to or not. On the other side of the room, Leo whimpered and cried out, the unmistakable sound of an omega having an earth-shattering orgasm administered by an alpha. My body thrummed with overstimulation as Flynn’s callused hand squeezed and kneaded my cock, forcing it momentarily to full hardness.

He paused long enough to spit on his palm before wrapping his hand around me again and pumping... not gently. I knew how this would go, even if I couldn’t do anything about it under the circumstances. It would be overwhelming at first, before becoming tolerable and even pleasant for a time, after which it would grow uncomfortable, then painful, and eventually unbearably excruciating.

I lay tense beneath Flynn’s grip, my pulse fluttering against his fingers on my throat. Liquid heat slowly began to build in my gut, distracting me from the overstimulation and eventually replacing it. A moan wrenched free of my lips, and as though that had been some kind of a signal, Flynn let go of my cock. It wilted almost immediately in the absence of direct stimulation, but the heavy, warm feeling in my stomach lingered.

“Think that’s enough of that for a bit, huh, Ginger Tea?” he said, not waiting for a reply. “Let’s see about those pretty brown tits of yours next. They’re awfully hard, considering how warm it is in here.”

He thumbed my left nipple. A sharp tingle zinged along my nerves. Gooseflesh erupted across my chest as I swallowed a gasp. His fingers closed over the pebbled point, pinching and tugging sharply. I arched off the couch cushion with a strangled yelp.

He chuckled. “Bet you felt that in all four of them, didn’t ya?”

“They cut out two,” I whispered, knowing he would be able to see the small, jagged scars.

Flynn grunted and pinched the other nipple. I jerked at the phantom sensation.

“Maybe. But if I can still make you feel ’em, are they really gone?” he asked.

I might have answered, except it was too hard to focus on words with Flynn torturing my chest, alternating pinches with scrapes of his blunt fingernails until I was a breathless, squirming mess.

“Well, that was fun,” he said. “We’ll have to do some more of that later.”

I managed a strangled ‘hngh’noise, too wrecked to move even when the hand around my throat disappeared. A muffled, high-pitched cry came from Leo’s corner, and I turned my blurry gaze to find her draped over Jax in a sixty-nine position with his head buried between her thighs and his giant cock down her throat. As though she sensed me looking, she opened her eyes and met mine with a look equally as glassy.

Flynn pulled my jeans down and off, leaving me naked except for the shirt still tangled around my arms. “You ready for him now, Alex?” he called.

“Bring him over,” she said.

I blinked, having completely missed it whenever she’d risen from the couch and removed her clothing. She reclined in the dip of the ridiculous sex divan—upper body resting against the taller end that acted as a backrest; legs straddling the seat to expose the folds between her legs, feet braced flat on the floor.

God, she was... magnificent. The polar opposite of Leo’s omega softness, with her small, vestigial breasts over ripped pecs, and a sinuous, lean-muscled body that belonged on ancient statuary somewhere.

Flynn—equally impressive, but in an entirely male and overpowering way—watched me ogling his pack alpha with an amused huff. “Come on, Ginger Tea. Time to make yourself useful.”

He leaned down and hoisted me over his shoulder before I even knew what was happening, clamping a hand over my bare ass to steady me. Flynn rose as though I weighed nothing and carted me over to the sex couch. He deposited me on my knees at the foot of the thing—worshipping at Alex’s altar, so to speak.

Flynn gestured at her. “Go on,” he said. “Get her ready while I get you ready. Use your mouth, in case that’s not obvious.”

Since no one had bothered to untangle my arms from behind me, it was, in fact, pretty obvious. I blinked up at Alex, reclining in front of me.

“Come here, omega,” she said.

There was no way to comply except to slither onto the end of the sex couch on my belly, and neither of the alphas seemed to care how awkward and ridiculous that looked.

Because this wasn’t about me.

This was about an omega giving an alpha pleasure in the heat-nest. It didn’t matter if my womb was gone and my passage was sewn shut, because my mouth still worked and that was what Alex wanted to use right now. The realization shook something loose inside me.

I managed to get my hips draped over the swell at the low end of the divan, but without the use of my arms, I was stymied when it came to getting my mouth where it needed to be. God, I could smell her—right there, but just out of reach. I’d never been this close to a female alpha’s sex. I wanted to be even closer.

There was a mystique around female alphas, even among purebreds. Before things had gone to hell, I’d been just old enough to join the secretive cliques of prepubescent omegas who passed around naughty photos of naked female alphas, along with faded copies of diagrams from biology textbooks that had been banned decades earlier.

Hyenas, the betas called them, for the superficial resemblance to a species whose females had pseudo-phalluses visually indistinguishable from the males’ penises. Female alphas’ clits resided inside a sheath until they were stimulated, at which point they emerged as they grew erect. They were about the same length as a male beta’s cock, but lacked the girth. If the schoolyard whispers were to be believed, the knots made up for it.

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