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Chapter Five

Sloane

I don’t care what anyone tells you, there was nothing more awkward than waking up next to a one-night stand—a stranger who appeared in your bed overnight, dragged there by alcohol, drugs, or in my case, by some weird fucking chemical reaction that had me turning into something else altogether.

I peeled myself away from the sheets, sensing two things.

The way the fabric clung to me, sticking to my skin, reminded me that last night’s events were real and not a fever dream.

That and the sun, streaming in through the bedroom windows and illuminating him.

My fingers twitched as I stared down at his sleeping form, feeling the desire and need to stroke them through his thick brown hair, over the brutal planes of his face. Familiar on a cellular level and yet so completely alien, he was a stranger and he was also my alpha.

Jace.

I hissed at that, barely a whisper, but he moved, roused, woke, like a beast in its cave and I’d been the one to poke him.

When those brown eyes met mine, deep chocolate coloured, the skin around them crinkling as he yawned before one of those huge arms went around me and pulled me back down, that reality hit me hard.

My mind might be racketing around in my skull, fluttering like a moth against a window, but my body, it knew.

It was there in the way I slotted against his big body, sheltered by that massive ridge of muscle and bone, made small and fragile in return.

Our size differences, his scent, the way he held me with complete and utter possessiveness said it all—things had changed.

I wasn’t an independent and self-sufficient beta anymore. I was an omega.

“My omega…” he sighed, as if in counterpoint to my thought, and didn’t those words sting as they branded me?

But not unpleasantly. I was used to this, tossing aside what I’d thought I wanted or needed, having to do the same when Mum and Dad died.

Right now, right here, held so close I could hear the heavy thud of his heart and the whistle of his breath, I found myself accepting this change in roles, settling against his chest. I was rewarded then with a hand spanning my shoulder blades and stroking, bringing my awareness and my body back to the here and now.

Again and again, he stroked me, making low, satisfied little grunts with each pass, running his hand up and down until the awkwardness bled away and there was only this.

I was sure he would consider my movements naughty, further evidence of my rebellious omega nature, but I pulled away, needing that tiny little physical space as I grappled with a need for a little emotional distance.

What the fuck was I thinking? Em, Jewel, Jude?

What the hell had happened? Had Jude got them home?

Were they locked away somewhere in… What was this bloody place?

Ensconced in some alpha’s bedroom, waking up ready to face the walk of shame or…

“They’re safe,” he replied to my unconscious deluge, not even cracking an eyelid while I hung there, staring. “I made sure the boys put them in cabs and got them home in one piece. Knew that’d worry you.”

I didn’t reply, struck speechless by someone else stepping up and seeing to the responsibility that was Em.

I couldn’t even tell you how I felt about it, the idea so foreign, I couldn’t grasp it.

So the response, a hot, hot flush of lust, was delayed.

Yeah, I was getting used to that, feeling my pussy begin to seep again distressingly.

But more? Where the hell did that come from?

A wave of gratitude, appreciation, want, need, rose and rose, and at its crest, there was something else—something that kept me pinned to the bed, even when he moved, rolling me onto my back and covering my body with his.

“You look after her,” he said, then kissed me before I could reply, the faintest press of his mouth, before he pulled back.

“Everything you do is for her.” Another kiss, like a punctuation mark, but it was starting to blur the meaning of his words as my body began to respond. “I know what that’s like.”

Then he stopped, me staring at him, him staring at me.

“I’ve got a sister that I look after too.

She’s an omega, but, Sloane?” This kiss was slower, deeper, much more thorough, claiming my mouth until I was forced to pull back and suck breaths in.

“What’s yours is mine, baby. Your worries.

” A kiss on my collarbone. “Your concerns.” One on my neck, making me arch my spine.

“Your responsibilities.” His teeth, fastening on the skin there, just holding a fold until I began to squirm, feeling an alien need for more.

For those sharp fangs to clamp down, breaking the skin as he broached me, spearing inside as he marked me much more thoroughly than he had last night.

A small whine escaped me in response, but he chuckled, pulling back and staring down at me.

“I told you, I’ve got you, Sloane.” His eyes roamed across my skin. “All of you.”

What was left of me, Sloane, beta, sister, daughter, thrashed around inside me, fighting to get free, but I was an omega in the presence of a very big, very hard alpha, so that got pushed rudely to one side.

Instead, something so completely alien happened.

My body went limp, my heart rate beginning to slow as a feeling of sweet, sweet surrender overwhelmed me. For now, there was only here, now, him.

A him that saw my moment of weakness and intended to exploit it as best as he could, for my benefit.

He’d called it rutting, but right now, it didn’t feel like that, the word not fitting the way he seemed to read my body as he went up on his knees, stroking his hands up and down me in an almost soothing caress.

There were none of the cruel pinching fingers of last night that had made me insane with pleasure.

Instead, he seemed content to drive me mad in a much more gentle way.

“My beautiful girl…”

His hands spanned my collarbone, my shoulders and my arms, creating frantic little twitches of pleasure before moving on.

When they swept up again to stroke across my hips, my stomach, my ribcage, he snorted when I arched my back.

He seemed to want to pet me, but I couldn’t be still and let him.

I felt a pulse start deep inside me, a slow, ponderous throb, and each pass of his hand stoked it higher so that when he cupped my breasts, I was panting.

“These…” My breasts were dwarfed by his hands and aching for more, his fingers tracing the outer ring of my nipple but no more.

“I could spend my fucking day exploring every inch of these and call it good.” My areola puckered in desperation, the points beginning to ache like whatever it was inside me.

“Pinching these little nipples.” The sound that came from me was fucking debauched, a groan of surrender and need.

“Pulling them just enough to make it sting.”

What. The actual. Fuck. What should’ve hurt only made my nerve endings sing. This had begun all gentle and sweet, and here was I, wriggling like a fish because I couldn’t tell where the pleasure ended and the pain started.

“Soothing them with kisses until I scent that your slick is beginning to run.”

And then there it came, one set of fingers holding my breast ready while his mouth descended on the other, his tongue tracing, flicking, then his lips closing over where I ached the most and sucking.

That was the problem with people you’d had fucking hot sex with—their every action reminded you of past successes.

I knew the prickle of his stubble, the firm stroke of his tongue all over my body, and the rest of it screamed for more of the same.

Finally, I did as he asked, being a good little omega, slick coming out of my cunt in a gush.

His head jerked up, and for a split second, I felt a childlike rush of shame.

This was so embarrassing, like a child getting caught wetting the bed, but his expression killed that feeling dead.

He stared at me for a moment with an attitude of reverence, as if that small involuntary act was a gift of great magnitude to him.

“You’re still getting used to this body,” he said, way too insightfully, “but I can show you exactly what it’s capable of.

” A finger slid down my midline, down, down, tracing a small circle around my belly button before going lower, to exactly where I needed him.

I began to shift, twist, but his hand clamped, keeping me where I was.

“More pleasure than you know what to do with. More than you can get your head around. More than you’ve ever known. Do you want that, Sloane?”

What could I do but nod furiously? Alpha, beta, or omega, it didn’t make a difference, not when faced by this. Sweat prickled over my skin, and it felt like a fire followed in its wake before chasing his fingers between my legs.

“Up on all fours, love,” he said, more growl than instruction now. I wasn’t about to say no, hearing the desire there. “I need you open and ready for me. All of you.”

I didn’t think too much about that, scrambling to do as he said, the promise of pleasure singing in my blood, nor did I notice the sound of a bottle cap being popped and a wet squirt, but I soon found out as I knelt there, head buried down in the pillows, sucking in mouthfuls of his scent.

It was that which had my head spinning, only able to focus on the slap of one of his hands down on my hip, and the other?

Slick fingers swiped over my arsehole, leaving a confusing tumble of sensations in their wake.

“Don’t fret, omega,” he said as I began to move restively, struggling to stay still, to process what he was doing. “You’re still getting to know what you are, and I’m going to help you.”