Page 9 of His Reward (Omegas After Dark: Omega Auction #2)

CHAPTER FIVE

Lucien

After years of hard playing, I didn’t think anything could surprise me anymore. Boston proved that wrong in a heartbeat with just a few growled words.

“What do you think your father would say if he could see his little golden boy now?”

It was a good eight hours after the end of the auction and I’d had three heat waves so far.

We’d relocated to the other side of the room, where there was some furniture that I was certain wasn’t standard for a ski lodge suite.

Boston had me tied up like a pretzel, arms completely immobile behind me, my lower body fastened into some kind of metal frame that kept my thighs and my ass spread wide open and indefensible.

My head was pulled up and back by a band around my forehead that forced me to watch every push and thrust Boston made in the large mirror in front of the bench where he fucked me.

I loved it. Boston was clever and creative, and he’d made me feel like I was utterly helpless.

As each new heat wave hit me, I sank deeper and deeper into the fantasy, imagining that he really would forcibly breed me.

I kept imagining my belly growing round with child, his child, and my chest developing as my mammary glands woke up and filled with milk.

But most of all, I imagined what my father would think if he could see how deliciously depraved his gold medal boy really was.

“You smell ripe,” Boston said, pausing just after pushing his cock so deeply into me that I could feel his cockhead pressing against the opening of my womb.

He sniffed his way up the curve of my back and my captured arms until he could bury his face against my neck while leaning his weight on me.

“You’d better conceive this time or it’s back on the cross for you. ”

I moaned and sniffled wetly as tears streamed down my face, but really, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more.

I loved the smooth excuse Boston had come up with for a little impact play between heat waves.

He was excellent with a flogger as well.

Underneath where my arms were trapped in rope against my back, I could still feel the throbbing heat of the blows he’d rained across my back and ass.

“I…I can’t,” I panted. “Please let me go.”

It was all part of the scene. The last thing I wanted was for Boston to release me from the perfect scenario he’d created.

“You will do as I say, omega,” Boston met my eyes in the mirror, his burning with lust and mine glassy with pretend fear. He undulated his hips, thrusting into my already tender channel and banging against the mouth of my womb. “You will open yourself to me and let my seed take hold.”

I groaned as the wave I found myself in reached its pitch. Boston breathed in deeply, then shifted back so he could pound into me with almost feral energy.

It was glorious. I would be so bruised and sore by the time my heat was done. The friction of Boston’s thrusts was everything, and the way my trussed and straining body howled with pain and glowed with pleasure had me just about losing my mind.

Just about, but not quite.

Boston and I both screamed when his knot swelled, locking us together. He continued to jerk and grunt for a few more seconds as he came. I’d seen the condoms a few times after he pulled out. The man’s balls must have been reservoirs of cum.

And that was the fly in the ointment of the experience.

I had very little relief once the wave passed. My body was still hot and restless, and not even the welts from Boston’s flogger or his thick knot stretching me completely relieved the feeling.

“Are you okay?” Boston asked as he lay on top of me, careful not to completely squash me.

I blinked, then sucked in a breath. So we were out of the scene for a moment, were we? Might as well be honest.

“I’m great,” I panted. “But….”

“But?” he prompted me when I hesitated to go on.

He shifted slightly and undid the headband that was keeping my head pulled back, then helped me to rest my cheek against the front of the bench, his tenderness an arousing contrast to his sadism when we were in the scene.

It was a relief to have those muscles freed, and also to be able to see him directly out of the side of my vision instead of indirectly in the mirror.

I winced, then said, “I appreciate how careful you’re being, but I really need your cum.”

Boston sucked in a breath, which caused his body to move, and since he was still knotted in me, the pull sent me into an aftershock orgasm that had my whole body spasming with release. Boston grinned and moved harder in me, drawing the glorious moment out a bit.

“I like seeing you undone,” he said once I was limp and gulping for air again. “And knowing that I did that to you.”

I laughed and squeezed around him.

“Sassy,” he hissed next to my ear. “That’ll earn you a few smacks with a crop at least.”

I hummed and closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the anticipation.

“But I hear you about the cum,” he said. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far into your heat without being soaked with it.”

Boston clearly knew more about how omega heats worked than most alphas.

It wasn’t just the friction and an omega’s orgasms that soothed their heat, it was the chemical reaction of hormones in an alpha’s seminal fluid that eased the bone-deep mating urge.

Boston’s knot started to go down, and he pulled out before it was fully deflated, which I loved.

My hole stretched just a little beyond comfort, making me wince, and a gush of slick followed him out, proving just how much I loved the way he treated me.

He removed his condom, and once again I marveled at how filled it was. I licked my lips as I watched him tie it off and take it to the trash. What a waste of good seed. I wanted that in me, my mouth, my throat, my channel, my womb. I wanted it all over me.

“So you want the real deal,” Boston said as he came back to the breeding bench and started to untie the ropes restricting my arms and loosen the closures of the cage around my thighs. “That whore hole of yours wants to drip with my juices?”

The halfway-in-character way he said that had me giggling stupidly for a moment. I was so far out of the mental space of the character I’d created for myself that I blurted, “Give it all to me, big boy. I want to be tasting you for a week.”

Fire flared in Boston’s eyes as I watched him undo his handiwork over my shoulder. “You gonna start topping from the bottom now?” he asked with a delicious growl. “Because I don’t allow that.”

He underscored his words by slapping my already red and sore ass hard, splattering slick over the back of the bench.

I groaned at the flash of pain that hit me, but it also had my cock standing at full attention.

He added the pain of my arms being released from their tight restriction as he moved them forward and massaged my muscles to get the blood flowing again to the overall glut of sensation.

The whole thing sent my next heat wave speeding at me.

I didn’t usually have them so close together and they weren’t usually so intense, but Boston made everything so much more vivid for me in every way.

“Fuck, you are a little slut, aren’t you,” Boston said, halfway in character, as he removed the contraption from my lower body, pulled me off the bench, and carried me to the side.

He reached around to cup my tight balls and straining cock as he carried me to the curvy chaise.

“Does Daddy know you’re gagging for his worst enemy to put his baby in you? ”

I whimpered and tried to get back into character, but as Boston straddled the chaise and reclined in it with me in his arms and his full alpha cock rigid and ready again, all I really wanted to do was be his mindless fuck-toy.

And the part of me that had grasped onto the new idea wanted to give my father the middle finger by bouncing on that cock until I was bloated with seed and had painted Boston’s chest with my own cum.

It would serve him right for thinking of me as nothing more than his ticket back into the spotlight.

“Another heat wave already?” Boston asked, his eyebrows inching up a little in genuine surprise as he reached for the bottle of spermicide on the table beside the chaise.

“I need it,” I panted, wriggling in my efforts to find his cock under me so I could impale myself. I smeared slick all over his thighs and the chaise in the process.

“You need it?” Boston repeated tauntingly, mostly back in character. “What do you need, boy?”

“Your cock,” I panted as he squirted a huge dollop of spermicide on his hand. “Your seed.”

“So Daddy’s good boy is a cock slut after all?” he asked, using three fingers to push the spermicide up into me.

I answered him with an obscene sound and bore down on his fingers as they spread me.

“Oh, you want to be fisted, do you?” he asked as he worked the spermicide deeper.

I paused, my heart hammering fast. For an omega, being fisted by an alpha was considered one of the most humiliating things that could be done to you.

I have no idea why or when society decided that, because having a big fist stretching you and rubbing against your prostate was like heaven to me.

It had to have something to do with a fist mimicking a knot, but without actually being fucked.

Like you weren’t worthy of an alpha’s cock, even though he made you submit.

Whatever. I didn’t care. I wanted Boston in my body in any way he wanted to fuck me.

“Please,” I moaned, jerking on his fingers inside of me.

Boston growled with lust, but instead of going ahead and pushing his entire hand into me, he pulled out, grabbed my hips, and moved me so he could thrust up into me.