Page 42 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
“I know you’re joking, but biologically, packs were made for this, so if you lean into your instincts, it’ll be a lot less awkward,” Ambrose adds. “Speaking of which…” He groans and slips free of Camille, his knot deflated. “Our omega needs more, and I’m too old to go again right away.”
I know that’s a complete lie after spending days with him during Camille’s heat, but I get what he’s trying to do.
River and I exchange a glance as Ambrose shifts off Camille and rolls over to lie beside her. We’re both hesitating, like that moment where you’re both trying to be polite and let the other person go first.
For the first time in ages, worries of inadequacy rear their ugly head. I know how to make Camille feel good. She trusts me more than River. And yet…
He’s an alpha.
He has a knot that can give her relief I can’t. If I had a knotting sleeve on, we’d be on more even ground, but that’s back in my room, and there’s no way I’m leaving to go get it. Besides, River has alpha pheromones and a commanding presence that I’ll never be able to replicate. And if that weren’t bad enough, I’ve studied her pleasure, but he has a direct link to her needs from his bite.
How the fuck am I supposed to measure up to a bonded alpha? Or a scent-matched alpha, for that matter. I’m just some cocky beta with not nearly enough to back up my bravado.
“You should go—” I start.
“You’re better—” River says at the same time.
I shake my head at him. “She needs an alpha.”
River’s frown deepens. “She needs someone she trusts.”
I’m aware that this argument is absurd, especially given we’re both hard and have a needy omega right next to us on the bed putting out enough perfume to make anyone in a five-mile radius horny.
“Either of you is great.” Her brow twists in concern, and there’s a hint of pain in her eyes as she watches our standoff.
Shit. We’re fucking this up. If we can’t figure outsomething as simple as who fucks our omega in the heat of the moment, she’s never going to trust us to be her pack.
Part of me wishes she’d pick, though I know there’s no way in hell that’ll happen right now. She knows River and I are vulnerable enough that’d it’d hurt not to be her first choice.
Ambrose huffs in frustration. “Jackson first, then River.”
“Yes, that’s great. Someone please get inside me,” Camille lets out a strained laugh.
River nods, looking almost relieved. He’s our lead alpha, so I’m shocked that he’s not bristling at being ordered around, but maybe things have shifted since he left. I don’t really get the whole alpha dominance thing, and it’s a strange development, but I can’t waste any more time or mental energy on our nonsense when Camille is begging for dick.
“Leave it to Daddy to lay down the law,” I say, winking at the omega.
She rolls her eyes at my dumb joke, and I reward her sass by hooking an arm under her and flipping her over so she’s face down, giving her ass a light smack. Partially because I love this view of her plump ass and dripping pussy, and partially because I know if I look into her eyes I’m going to embarrass myself the second I’m inside her.
Camille moans, pressing her chest down against the mattress and presenting for us without being asked, and the alphas beside me let out half-groans, half-growls of lust. If she’s not careful, they’re both going to fall into a rut, and I’ll have to be the rational one. A role I was good at during heats at work, but with Camille, with my pack, I’m more than a little afraid I’ll let them down.
I grip Camille’s hips, savoring how they dimple under my fingers. Every inch of her is ripe and lush, like all my best wet dreams brought to life. She’s my dream woman, the bestfucking omega I’ve ever had the privilege to be with, and the perfect addition to our pack.
“Fuck, Cami,” I groan as I sink my cock inside her gripping heat. I have to stay still for a moment to keep myself from falling over the edge. “This pussy is even better than I remember.”
“Jackson,” she whines, pushing back to try to take me deeper.
I laugh and hold her still. “You know you have to do better than that. Or did you forget how much I like to hear you beg?”
“I need it, please,” she whimpers, fingers tangling in the sheets as she tries to spread her thighs wider.
Another chuckle escapes me as I ease out and thrust back in, dragging it out so she feels every inch of me. “What do you need?”
When she moans again but doesn’t answer, I tangle a hand in her hair and press my other hand to her sternum to lift her up from the pillow she’s pressed her cheek to.
“Do you want to be fucked?” I rasp, giving her another slow, dragging thrust.
“Y-yes,” she whines, her channel clamping down on me.
