Page 32 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Twenty

Morgan

W hen Wyatt’s knot deflated for the final time, he was sound asleep—and I had never been more sober.

The temporary pheromone high had long worn off, making me overly aware of his hair brushing my skin and the heat of his breath against my cheek. At least we were on our sides, facing each other, allowing me to untangle myself without waking him.

Shifting toward the edge of the bed, I reached for my phone on the end table. It was almost six in the morning on Saturday.

Twelve hours post-injection, and my heat still hadn’t fully kicked in.

But Cal had been correct, as per usual. Their pheromones helped me get and stay aroused.

I’d been worried about having sex with Wyatt for reasons that seemed ridiculous in retrospect. He was my scent match. Once we both relaxed, nuzzling his skin was almost enough for a contact high, which spurred my omega on, demanding we wring every possible drop of satisfaction from him.

To my surprise, Wyatt was more than willing to follow my lead without asking a single question or showing even a moment’s hesitation. All he wanted was to make me feel good, to make me come, even holding back on knotting me until I asked for it.

And ask I had.

If only I knew what I’d been about to receive.

Scrolling through my usual influx of text messages from Jacobi, I considered lodging a complaint about his information network.

His intel said Wyatt’s cock was thick, like a male omega’s. No one ever mentioned it was so thick I’d feel like I was taking a knot the entire time.

And as for his actual knot…

Even during a heat, it’d left me sore. The best kind of ache, but still, the girth of his dick was not to be taken lightly.

Deep and hard, on the other hand…

Stupid fucking hormones.

I needed to eat something and take a shower before pouncing another man.

Joaquin and Alijah were supposed to be next, but given the time, they’d probably gone home for the night. Which meant Cal was going to get his turn sooner than expected.

I took a few moments to stretch, then leaned down to snag my discarded robe...and helped myself to Wyatt’s basketball shorts.

Then I raided the mini fridge for banana slices, some cheese and crackers, and two bottles of water. Huddled on one of the cloud-soft accent chairs, wrapped in a blanket, with Wyatt’s shorts draped across my lap like a makeshift tablecloth, I admired his sculpted form while I ate.

Once I was refueled and visually sated, I tucked Wyatt in and slipped through the pocket door into the darkened bathroom.

After turning on the recessed light above the shower, I hung Wyatt’s shorts on a robe hook. Reclining on the built-in bench, back resting against the cool tile, I admired my newest acquisition while slowly but thoroughly running a soapy pouf along every inch of my body.

I emerged refreshed—but frustrated.

My skin was flushed pink from my resurgent heat rather than the water temperature or my thorough scrub-down. The first stirrings of cramps clawed at my abdomen. Time to hunt down Cal.

Putting my robe back on, I padded across the tile…

Only to unexpectedly walk through a stray beam of light.

The bedroom door was cracked open. And my bedside lamp was on.

But before my omega could take offense at the intrusion, the rustle of sheets reached my ears, followed by whispers of praise—and a whine of denial.

“We s-shouldn’t be doing this,” Alijah whimpered in a hushed, breathy voice. “Not in her bed. Without her.”

I stopped inside the doorway, peering through the gap…and watched.

Admiring how the soft glow of the bedside lamp highlighted Joaquin’s tattooed skin and his wandering hands.

How Alijah’s slim form writhed against my sheets, his thighs spread wide, knees hooked over Joaquin’s forearms, hips rolling upward to take his mate deeper.

How stunning they were together.

Joaquin’s shaggy hair fell to one side as his head turned in my direction. His intense gaze cut through the darkness to meet my rapt stare.

“Hey, doc,” he said with a Cheshire Cat grin. “Wanna learn how to make our boy beg?”

Three steps into the room, I froze.

Not because I didn’t want to join them, but because Alijah covered his face with his hands, turning away from me.

“Sorry,” I said, pressing Wyatt’s shorts against my chest. “I’ll go—”

“No, no, don’t!” Alijah sat up a bit, one arm outstretched, reaching for me. “Didn’t mean it like that, I’m just…just…”

Joaquin also held out his hand, motioning for me to come closer. “He’s embarrassed. Been hard for hours. The pheromones were getting to him. Thought it’d be best to let off a little steam. But one good blowjob deserves another, and—”

Alijah knocked a heel against his mate’s side, earning a sly laugh for his troubles.

Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, I tucked Wyatt’s shorts into the storage ottoman at the foot of the bed, hidden beneath my extra blankets and pillows.

I eyed Alijah’s discarded forest green polo shirt on the floor, wondering if I could spirit it away before they remembered I was there.

A strong arm looped around my waist, redirecting my covetous thoughts from Alijah’s clothes to the man himself.

He was beautiful, from the uncertain furrow between his brows, to the broad planes of his nose, his plush lips, and the delicate linework of his fern leaf tattoo...

It was much larger and more intricate than I’d thought, covering the entire width of his shoulders, with more fronds unfurling across the tops of his biceps.

The silver crescents of Joaquin’s mating bite gleamed in the soft light.

I couldn’t help but imagine Alijah spread out like this, at our mercy, with a matching bite on his opposite collarbone.

“Gorgeous,” Joaquin murmured in my ear with a teasing roll of his hips, making Alijah’s eyelids flutter and his mouth drop open as he tried not to moan. “Isn’t he?”

“Mm. Very.”

“Should I tell her where to touch you, babe—or let her figure out all your sweet spots by herself?”

Alijah’s head thrashed from side to side. “Don’t make me choose.”

“Do your worst, doc,” Joaquin said with a flirty wink.

I was torn between wanting to respect Alijah, maybe giving him a few more minutes to warm up to the idea, and indulging my urge to lick every inch of his tattoo.

The battle was swift and decisive.

It was my heat. We’d all signed the same paperwork, giving each other permission to be naughty.

Which meant I could sample the pretty beta if I wanted to.

Straddling Alijah’s waist, I traced his full lips with my fingertips and watched him bliss out on his mate’s cock.

Joaquin leaned forward, kissing the side of my neck. “What are you thinking?”

“If he’d rather I go for his mouth or nipples. Don’t want him to enjoy this too much.”

Alijah squirmed, clutching at the hem of my robe. His black eyes were bottomless pools of desire.

“Or should I reward him for his patience?” Resting my hands on his pecs, I stroked his nipples with my thumbs, earning a pleased hiss. “Have you been a good boy?”

“Y-yes, yes,” he mumbled. “Even when your scent—smelled so… When it made me—when I heard you—”

I stopped Alijah’s fevered ramblings with my mouth. His kisses were eager and a bit sloppy. Not that I faulted him. He’d been bamboozled.

We both had.

They hadn’t wound up having covert sex in my bed by accident. Nor had the bedside lamp turned on by itself, or the bathroom door opened of its own volition.

No, Joaquin had been angling for a threesome from the start.

Maybe from the first day we met. And given the way his bearded jaw was still nuzzling against my neck, slipping the occasional amused huff into my hair, his machinations had unfolded exactly as he’d intended.

Joaquin reached around, taking one of my arms, guiding it beneath Alijah’s thigh, transferring its weight so Joaquin had a hand free to make mischief, starting with dipping inside the collar of my robe to fondle a breast.

“I want to watch him fuck you.” Joaquin tweaked my nipple. “Just like this—while I fuck him.” His teeth nipped at my earlobe. “Then I’m going to knot you, Morgan.”

“Green light, green light,” Alijah mumbled between kisses as his hand joined his mate’s in teasing my breasts.

Looking over my shoulder, I met Joaquin’s gaze—and gave him a salacious wink of my own. “You heard the man.”

Those wily, lightly calloused fingers reached between my legs from behind. They circled my clit before dipping into my pussy for a few languid strokes, ensuring I was ready for penetration. I was dripping by my standards.

Once he was satisfied, Joaquin guided Alijah’s cock inside of me.

Long and a little on the narrow side. Such easy pleasure, effortlessly hitting the right spots.

I couldn’t help but imagine borrowing him for rainy days. He could watch his shows on my tablet, while I sat on his cock, working through Owen’s influx of research papers.

The domestic daydream prompted my inner walls to tighten around Alijah. He bellowed, kicking up inside me with uneven thrusts, overwhelmed by the influx of sensations.

“Slow,” I said, caressing his cheek. “Take it slow. We’ve got nothing but time.”

And then I flicked his nipple, setting him off again.

Alijah took hold of my robe, pulling me back down, tongue demanding entrance to my mouth, kissing me with an unexpected amount of focus.

He did his best to dominate the kiss, despite Joaquin’s repeated attempts to fuck him to the point of distraction.

Deep, powerful thrusts echoed through Alijah, setting the tempo for all of us, although Alijah was always a beat off—too fast, then too slow, hitting too hard, stalling out for half a dozen gyrations, then bucking up into me. But his kiss never wavered.

As if afraid he’d never get another chance.

I couldn’t think like that. Not now.

My tongue gradually took control of the kiss, seeking out his sweet citrus pheromones. Less potent than the alphas, but so much more refreshing. Almost invigorating. Drowning out my logical mind with his zesty flavor.