Chapter 5

Chapter Five

D axton

Fortunately, Harper stays in her room for the rest of the next day and doesn’t reappear again. Occasionally, I glance up at her window, or I catch one of the others doing the same. In the end, I decide the presence of an omega as cute as Harper is too much of a temptation.

We need to get out of here.

“Let’s go out,” I say to the others.

Owen peers at me over the top of his shades. “Why?”

“I’m bored,” I say, spinning my phone around in my hand and not looking up towards that window. “Let’s go to a bar or something.”

Owen shrugs. “All right.”

I sling my t-shirt over my shoulder and head inside to shower and change. It’s a mistake. Harper’s peachy scent is vibrant inside the house, making my fucking nostrils tingle and my blood heat.

I duck my head down, holding my breath as I pace through the house, and lock myself inside the bathroom. There, I turn the shower as cold as it will go and, bracing my shoulders, force my head under the blast. The freezing temperature makes me gasp and my skin screams with pain. I keep myself under the water regardless, hoping the force of it might drive Harper’s scent from my nose and the visions of her in the pool from my head.

After ten minutes, I no longer stink of the chlorine from the pool, but the girl is still dancing around in my thoughts.

I slam off the faucet and grab a towel from the rack, tying it around my waist and pushing back the bathroom door with irritation. I’m halfway down the hallway, glaring at the floor, when I walk straight into the omega herself. She collides into my body and I instinctively grab her elbow to stop her from tumbling, the towel slipping down my hips.

She makes a little gasping squeak and her scent spirals sky high.

I snatch my hand away and adopt the expression I seem to have perfected when it comes to her.

“Watch where you’re going,” I say.

“I was … I just …” She frowns. “You could also watch where you’re going.”

“This is my house,” I say like an obnoxious kid. I know I’m being a jerk again but I can’t help myself. I want to play with this toy and, as I can’t, I’m going to be an asshole about it.

“It’s also mine.” She pouts at me.

“For now.”

Harper rests her hand on her hip and tilts her head to one side. She’s back in her cut-off shorts and tank – a variation of the same outfit she’d been wearing for days. An outfit that has me kind of giddy.

“Why do you hate my mom so much? She’s really not that bad and our parents seem genuinely in love.”

I snort. “Sure. If there’s any such thing.”

An expression of sympathy flickers over her face. “You don’t believe in love?”

“I think it’s made up bullshit so corporations can sell greeting cards and wedding dresses and bouquets of roses.”

“So all those people–”

“Lust, sex, infatuation.”

“That’s really sad.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“No, I mean, that’s really sad that you believe that,” she says. “You’re going to be very lonely, I think.”

I smirk at her. “I’m not the one locked in my room all day studying alone.”

“Because you sent me there!”

“True, so what are you doing out here in the hallway?”

“Going to use the bathroom.”

I lift an eyebrow, conveying just how little I buy that excuse. “If you think you’re going to seduce my two best friends, or some such bullshit, think again.”

“Seduce them? Because all three of you are so damn hot. How could any woman possibly resist you?”

“I think you find us hot,” I say lowly, stepping closer to her, unable to help myself. Her scent is all invitation and I can see right down her top, her tits begging to be squeezed. Her gaze flicks around my chest. “I think that’s why you’re out here in the hallway literally throwing yourself at the first alpha that walks by.”

“You are such a piece of work,” she hisses.

“A piece of artwork?” I flex my pecs and she gulps. “You’re so transparent, Harper.”

“And you can’t make up your mind about me, can you? Am I a virgin or a serial seducer?”

“You’re desperate, that’s what you are,” I sneer.

Hurt flickers across her face. Have I gone too far? I don’t want her to like me. I want her to stay away from me because she is too tempting. Too tempting by far.

She pushes past me, knocking against my shoulder as she does, and strides towards the bathroom. I watch her go, her shorts ridiculously short. When the bathroom door shuts behind her, I let out a sigh of relief and hurry into my bedroom. It’s not the refuge it used to be, not with her scent lingering in the air. I dress as fast as I can, then go to wait for the others by the front door.

I drive us down to the docks and we spend an hour strolling along looking at all the massive yachts and the alphas and omegas posing on the decks. Lots of omegas – all belonging to the wealthy packs – the scars from claiming marks glistening on their throats in the fierce sun. They’re all beautiful, stunning – half of them probably could be supermodels if they wanted to be. Somehow none of them seem as tempting as the little omega back home.

I tug on Wyatt’s arm and we divert into the nearest bar, knocking back far too many beers. Owen attempts to chat up some girls hovering in the corner. They’re all smiles and giggles when they learn we’re alphas and doctors; in fact they can hardly contain their excitement. It seems every beta on the planet has this crazy fantasy about sleeping with an alpha, all convinced they’ll be able to take our knots just like an omega. They can’t. They’re not built for it, no matter how many devices they buy.

I listen to some girl whitter on about her horse and her dog and her cat. My heart is not in it. It’s the same with the others, and soon we’re diving into a taxi and driving home.

“Those girls were hot,” Owen says. “What was your problem?”

I stare out the window, watching the night-time lights of Rockview whizz past the window.

“They were dull. Nothing between their ears.”

“Right,” Owen says and I ignore the obvious tease in his voice. “And we only like intelligent girls now, huh? The ones who study all day. And all night.”

I fidget on my seat. “If you mean–”

“It’s obvious you like her,” Wyatt says.

“Any alpha would,” I say. “She smells like ripe peaches. She has a body made for sin. And she’s clever.”

“Yeah,” Owen says, “and what happened in the pool was hot. You have no idea how good her pussy felt.”

I punch him on the arm. “That’s my sister.”

“Step-sister.” Owen snorts. “You only met her like fourteen days ago.”

“Doesn’t change the fact though, does it?”

“It’s clear she wants to have fun with us.”

“Yeah, maybe she’s not as clever as I thought.”

“What harm would it do?” Owen continues. “I’m not saying you propose. I’m not saying we make her our girlfriend. Just that we have a bit of fun.”

I swallow. It’s so fucking tempting. But it’s also fucking stupid.

My dad would murder me. That’s if his new wife didn’t gut me with a kitchen knife first.

It’s late when we arrive home, gone midnight, and I’m damn happy about that. It means I can stumble into bed without bumping into Harper again.

“Man, I’m starving. Will you make us one of your legendary sandwiches?” Owen asks Wyatt.

I yawn, tired. Fuck knows why, all I’ve done all day is lounge by the pool and drink some beers. I rub my eyes. Is it the tension of this situation? Controlling myself, holding myself back from temptation. I’m exhausted.

But it’s hard to say no to Owen and I’m following him and Wyatt into the kitchen without a word of complaint.

In the doorway the other two halt, and I nearly trip over Owen’s feet. I peer over his shoulder and discover the reason he’s stopped.

Harper.

Sitting on the countertop, bare legs swinging, bowl of ice cream in her lap.

I grind my teeth. Was the sandwich a fucking ploy? Owen’s sense of smell is far more powerful than mine and Wyatt’s. Did he know she was in here?

“You’re still up,” he says, striding into the kitchen with his most charming smile planted on his face.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says, spooning ice cream into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the spoon. “It’s too hot.”

“Even with the A/C?” Wyatt asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“I hate the A/C. It makes my head ache. It smells so bad.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Owen says, although he’s never complained about it before.

Ignoring my scowl, he hops up onto the counter beside her as Wyatt leans on her other side.

“Can you spare any?” he asks, pointing to the bowl. She nods, scooping out a chunk of ice cream and offering it up to him. With his eyes on her, full of damn mischief, he leans forward and she spoons it into his mouth.

“Not bad,” he says, licking his lips. “Not my favorite flavor, though.”

“Salted caramel is not your favorite flavor?” she says. “Are you mad?”

“It’s too sweet. I prefer something a little more … earthy.”

“Earthy?” Her brow crumples. “Like what?”

“Like omega pussy,” he says, peering down at her lap.

“Smooth,” she says, “but if you’re hoping to get inside my panties, you’ll have to convince him first, remember.” She points her spoon in my direction.

“He may take less convincing than you think.”

I fold my arms over my chest.

“It’s Harper you should be convincing and if she has any sense, you won’t be successful.”

“It was only yesterday you were telling me I needed to loosen up.”

“Your scent is warping his brain,” Owen says, leaning in and taking a deep inhale. “Shit, you do smell good.”

“Your scents are warping mine,” she mutters, plunging her spoon into the tub of ice cream.

“Oh yeah. How?” Wyatt asks with a straight face.

“It’s very hard to … concentrate with so many alpha scents around. I’m not used to it.”

“But you like it, right?” Owen says.

She shrugs, eyes locked on the ice cream.

Owen chuckles. “You going to deny it? You smell wet nearly all the time. I think we make you wet.”

“Owen,” I warn, taking a step into the room, unable to help myself because damn it, I want to smell if that’s true. Harper’s cheeks pinken and, is it my imagination or does she rub her thighs together?

“I think your nose must be malfunctioning,” she says.

“If you want, I could check your panties – just to be sure.” He winks at her.

“You’re not getting inside my step-sister’s panties,” I snap.

“Dude,” he says, meeting my eye. “I already have been and don’t deny that turned you the fuck on.”

Harper’s gaze leaps to me, her cheeks blazing, her eyes full of lust.

“Did it?” she asks.

I stare at her, unable to find my words.

She turns her head slowly towards Owen. “Go ahead, check my panties. They’re all yours.” She parts her thighs and rolls down flat on the counter.

Okay, so the nerd has turned out to be a brat. A fucking tease of a brat.

I take a sharp inhale through my nostrils. The aroma of slick is unmissable now. I should grab her hand, yank her off the counter and command she goes to bed – alone.

But my feet are rooted to the spot, my mouth like glue and my eyes locked on her.

On the periphery of my vision, I see Owen glance at me. Then he jumps off the counter and, positioning himself between her legs, hooks his fingers under the elastic of her silky sleep shorts.

“Let’s take a look,” he says, then slowly – fucking achingly slowly – he slides them down her stomach to the start of her rump. “Lift your hips, Omega.” She does as he says and he glides them down further, hesitating when the shorts are level with the top of her pubic bone. He growls and then he strips them further. I can’t see because he’s blocking my view, but I can tell from the groan the view is good.

“She’s not wearing panties,” he tells me, Wyatt watching from the side. “This naughty little omega isn’t wearing any panties.”

Harper sucks on her spoon, mischief in her eyes. I’ve definitely underestimated her. I bet she was lying in wait for us in the kitchen all fucking night.

“Well,” Owen says, gazing down at her most intimate parts. “I was wrong.”

“Wh-wh-what?” I stutter. There is no way Harper isn’t wet. All I can smell is slick.

“You aren’t wet. You’re fucking soaking.” He dips a hand between her legs, and when he lifts his hand to show me, his fingers are glistening with slick, absolutely coated in them. He places his fingers in his mouth and sucks on them, groaning as he does, leaving us all in no doubt that Harper tastes better than the ice cream. When he’s licked his fingers clean, he takes a hold of her shorts and begins to tug them back up her legs.

Harper rolls up onto her elbows, a deep line between her brows.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Inspection over,” Owen says.

She grabs a hold of his hand. “That’s it?”

“You want more?” She gives him an unamused expression. “What exactly were you after?”

She chews on her cheeks, clearly weighing up her options. Finally she says, “Everything.”

“You might need to be more specific,” Wyatt says seriously.

She lies back down, flinging her arms over her head and wriggling her ass, sighing as she does. “I want to come. I want to come so badly I might combust. You’ve been making me so wet and … and if I don’t come soon, I might actually die.”

“Dramatic,” Wyatt points out.

“And greedy,” I growl. “You already came today.”

Owen peers into her eyes. “I think she came yesterday and the day before and the day before that. I think you’ve been getting yourself off, haven’t you?” He turns his head to meet my gaze. “My room’s next door to hers. I can hear all the little squeaks and moans she makes when she’s fucking herself with her fingers.”

“I can hear you too,” she says and my friend’s head snaps back round. “I heard you.” Her hand slides down her body and disappears under the waistband of her shorts and between her legs. I bite my own fucking tongue and dig my fingernails deep into my palms, because I really, really want to see that!

“And when you heard me, Harper,” he whispers, “did you imagine my cock? Did you imagine me with my cock in my hand?”

“I imagined your cock inside me,” she moans. “I imagined your knot.”

“Fuck,” Wyatt mutters. “That is hot.”

I’ve been with some confident girls before – ones who know what they want in the bedroom, who are prepared to lead the way even with an alpha. I’ve never seen one touch themselves. Sure, I’ve seen it in porn. But live, right in front of me? No.

“Have you ever had a knot before, Harper?” I ask, the words slipping from my mouth.

“No,” she moans, her fingers working between her thighs.

“How about a cock?” Owen asks. “Have you had a cock inside your pussy before, Harper?”

“Yes,” she confirms.

The three of us tut. A cock without a knot is hardly going to satisfy an omega. An omega so needy, she’s getting herself off right in front of us.

“I really want to know what a knot feels like,” she whines.

Owen turns his head to glare at me again.

And I can’t stand it any longer. I march towards him and yank him out from between Harper’s legs, positioning myself there instead. I can see her hand moving beneath the silk of her shorts.

“And I suppose you want our knots,” I growl.

She bites her fat bottom lip, her eyes all hazy with lust, and nods.

“Say it.”

“I want your knots. I want your cocks.”

This got real serious real quick, deviating from a bit of French kissing in the pool to a full on four-way. But who am I kidding? It’s what we’ve been talking about – the three of us wondering if we could find an omega who’d let us play with her like that, especially when we’re not a pack.

“And if we agree,” I say. “If we fuck you, Harper, are you going to regret it? Are you going to go running to mommy and complaining about how the alphas took advantage of you? Are you going to land us in a heap of fucking trouble? End our careers – our fucking lives – before they’ve even started?”

She shakes her head adamantly, her finger pausing. “I promise. I wouldn’t do that. I want to know what it feels like to take a knot. I don’t want to ruin your lives.” I peer straight into her eyes, wondering if I can trust her. “I want to do this. It’s been a fantasy of mine for a long time.”

“And how about in a year’s time? Is it going to be awkward between us?”

“It’s … it’s just sex,” she says.

“It’s never just sex with omegas,” Wyatt points out.

She swivels her head to one side and glares at him. “It is with this one.” She turns her gaze back to me, and shimmies her shorts down her legs. She has a neat little line of curls leading down to her pussy lips, and pussy lips so plump and pink they should be in an art gallery. Her forefinger is lost between her lips and she’s playing with her clit. She parts her legs even wider so I get a perfect view. “Unless you don’t want to …”

She knows I do. It’s clear in my scent, probably clear in my eyes, clear in the way I’m panting and sweat is beading along my brow.

It’s probably fucked up big time, but I want my step-sister. And right now, as she slips a finger inside her pussy, I’m finding it damn hard to care about the consequences.

“Get yourself off with your fingers,” I order her. “I wanna watch. Then we’ll fuck you.”