Page 100 of Eight Count Heat
His mouth finds the sensitive skin of my inner thigh first, lips pressing gentle kisses that gradually become more insistent. When his teeth graze the soft flesh, not quite hard enough to mark but firm enough to make me gasp, I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from making noise.
"Stay with me," Tyler says, his conversation with Eli providing perfect cover. "Recovery nutrition is critical in the first thirty minutes post-competition. Protein synthesis, glycogen replenishment..."
I try to focus on his words, using them as an anchor, but Zane's mouth is working higher now, trailing heat up my thigh toward where I need him most. Every nerve ending feels like it's beenlit on fire, the combination of my failing suppressants and his skilled touch creating a feedback loop of sensation that threatens to overwhelm me completely.
When his tongue finally makes contact with my center, broad and warm and perfect, my back arches involuntarily. The sensation is so intense I see stars, pleasure crashing through me like a physical force. I bite down hard on the fleshy part of my thumb, using the sharp pain to keep myself grounded and quiet.
Zane doesn't waste time with teasing. His tongue delves deep, lapping up the evidence of my arousal with obvious hunger. The sounds he makes are subtle but unmistakable—wet, appreciative noises that speak to how much he's enjoying this. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open and steady as he works.
"Quieter," Gray says without turning around, his voice barely a whisper but carrying clear authority.
Zane adjusts his technique, sealing his mouth more completely over me to muffle the sounds. But his enthusiasm isn’t lost. If anything, the slight restriction seems to intensify his focus. His tongue works me with devastating talent, alternating between broad strokes that collect everything my body is producing and focused attention on my clit that makes my toes curl in my sneakers.
I risk a glance at Tyler and find his composure cracking. He's still maintaining his educational monologue, but his breathing is uneven and I can see him shift uncomfortably in his seat, trying to adjust himself without being obvious about it. The scent of my arousal is filling our section of the bus despite Zane's efforts to contain it, affecting every Alpha in range.
"Carbohydrate timing is also crucial," Tyler continues, voice slightly strained. "The window for optimal absorption..."
His words fade into background noise as Zane slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that perfect spot while his tongue continues its relentless assault on my clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming, pressure building low in my belly with frightening intensity.
I clamp my hand over my mouth and bite down on the fleshy part of my thumb to keep from crying out, the sharp pain the only thing preventing me from making sounds that would definitely attract unwanted attention. My free hand tangles in Zane's hair, probably gripping too tight, but he seems to like it if the way he groans against me is any indication.
The vibration of his voice pushes me closer to the edge. My thighs start to tremble, muscles tensing as the climax builds. Zane seems to sense how close I am because his pace increases, fingers pumping faster while his tongue works my clit with focused determination.
"That's it," he murmurs against me, voice so quiet I almost miss it. "Come for me, Cox. Let me taste all of it."
The command paired with his skillful mouth sends me over the edge hard. My orgasm crashes through me in waves, thighs clamping around his head as pleasure whites out my vision. I bite down so hard on my thumb I taste copper, the pain the only thing keeping me from screaming. My entire body convulses, muscles contracting in rhythms I can't control as wave after wave of release washes through me.
Zane works me through it expertly, his mouth never leaving me as he swallows everything, catching every drop of cum and the pheromones that come with it. His fingers gentle their movement but don't stop, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until I'm completely boneless against the seat.
When I finally stop shaking, he pulls back slowly, pressing one last soft kiss to my center before carefully repositioning my underwear. His face is flushed, lips swollen and glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction and unmistakable want.
Moving with the same care used to undress me, he helps guide my shorts back up my legs. I lift my hips to help, both of us staying hyperaware of the coaches' positions as we try to make me look as normal as possible. To anyone who might glance back, I'm now just a teammate recovering from post-race nausea, maybe feeling better after some rest and hydration.
"Better?" he asks as he settles back into his seat, wiping his face with the inside of his shirt, his voice rough with arousal.
"Much better." I look at him, noting the way his pupils are still dilated, the slight flush on his cheeks, the obvious bulge in his shorts that he's trying to hide. "What about you?"
His smile is wicked, satisfied in a way that makes heat curl through my core again despite having just came. "I'll manage. But fuck, Reese, you taste incredible."
The compliment makes me flush, warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with my heat cycle. My scent has mellowed completely, no longer the sharp spike of desperate need that was driving everyone crazy. The relief will hold for a while, long enough to get through check-in and settling into the hotel rooms.
Tyler finally allows himself to relax slightly, his educational monologue winding down to a natural conclusion. "...which is why immediate post-competition nutrition should always be a priority."
"Fascinating stuff, Wu," Beckett says from his position in front of us, though his voice carries an edge of strain that suggests he's been affected by the encounter despite not being able to see it.
Gray turns in his seat, steel eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. There's approval there, and something deeper. Possessiveness mixed with concern, the complex emotions of an Alpha watching his Omega being cared for by another member of his pack.
"Team dinner's at seven," he notes quietly. "We'll need another plan by then."
The practical reminder brings reality back into focus. This relief is temporary, lasting maybe two hours if I'm lucky. By the time we sit down for the celebratory dinner, my body will be building toward another spike, the heat cycle reasserting itself as the hormones rebuild in my system.
Tyler adjusts his glasses, trying to regain his composure. "I can handle dinner. Pressure points, maybe some contact under the table. Less obvious than this."
"You sure?" I ask, studying his face. Despite his analytical nature, there's genuine care in his dark eyes, and something else. Want, carefully controlled but definitely present.
"I'm sure." His voice is steadier now, but I catch the way his gaze lingers on my mouth, then drops to where Zane's hands are still resting possessively on my thighs. "We all want to help, Reese. In whatever way works."
The hotel appears ahead. We'll be here tonight before driving back to campus tomorrow. As we pull into the parking lot, I realize the dynamic between us has shifted fundamentally. This isn't just crisis management anymore. These men want me, all ofthem, and they're willing to work around every complication to have me.
