Chapter 8

Frederick's hand is at the back of my neck. It is a big, rough hand. It circles nearly all the way around. His thumb slides up and down at the side of my throat, absently.

Breathing is a challenge as the air whispers in and out of my lungs. My husband is staring at me… no, not me per se, but at the place where Frederick touches me. He licks his lips. He doesn't mind how his friend handles me. He really doesn't.

I want to ask questions, yet the words cannot form.

We have crossed boundaries. We have crossed them in a way from which there is no going back. I love my husband with all my heart. I have never once coveted the attention of another man. I barely look at them, truth be told. It's like they don't really exist in that way—even Frederick has been in this category before now. I have looked at him more as an opportunity to match-make my unmated, unwedded friends, constructing happily-ever-afters where they have lavish weddings and children and where we are lifelong friends.

I always liked these scenarios because I couldn't bear the thought of Frederick marrying somebody who was horrible. Mating, I correct myself, for alphas do not wed.

There is something strange in the way my husband watches his friend touching me, a sort of intense focus, one I feel echoes inside me.

I feel a confession bubbling up, the need to explain what just happened while Alex was out of the room. My nipple still throbs where Frederick sucked—it's like he's still sucking me there.

Only how can I get the words out? I feel ashamed to my very core, but also hot and needy, like I might die if Frederick were to take his hand away.

Belatedly, I realize they've been talking for some time and, further, talking about me.

"…so it's a different approach one must take with a beta than with an omega?"

I catch up with the end of my husband's question.

"It is," Frederick confirms.

He removes his hand from the back of my neck, and I miss it instantly. But his fingertips settle again at my shoulder, and then they glide over my collarbone and all the way over the swell of my breast. They pause at the next bow on my bodice, and he gives a gentle tug.

My bodice gives. His fingertips skim along the edges of the gaping material as my breathing turns erratic and shallow.

Alex doesn't tell him to stop. I feel he ought to.

I feel I ought to move or slap Frederick for his presumptuousness, only I don't. That ship has sailed, so to speak. I've already had his mouth on me, felt the sweet, insistent pull of his lips, suckling me.

For a moment, my mind goes blank to everything but that memory. I'm shuddering with arousal, and all he's doing is playing with the upper swell of my breast—little swirling patterns with the tips of his rough fingers.

"You need more preparation?" Alex asks. His voice sounds a little strained, maybe, but it's hard to be certain with confidence over the whooshing of blood pounding through my veins.

Frederick tugs at my decolletage, and my breast pops out. I squeak a protest even though I don't move to stop him as his big hand cups the weight. Then he squeezes my taut nipple between his finger and thumb, and I squirm in my seat, face flaming to a heat.

"For certain. An alpha can't just fuck a beta."

Goddess, those blunt words. Alex rarely swears in my presence. Whenever he does, it makes me feel a little hot and naughty. Given that I am already on fire at Frederick's treatment of me, his words make me whimper with need.

"And what would one do then?" Alex asks, all interest, as his best friend, an alpha, plays with my nipple, squeezing it, tugging it, rolling it only just on the side of too rough. I try to steady my breathing and not to squirm.

"Some alphas even prefer betas," Frederick says.

"They do?" Alex asks, tearing his eyes from my breast to meet Frederick's gaze.

"Hmm. A man can get a little lust drunk with an omega. One male is not always enough, and you must share. I cannot imagine ever sharing a woman with another alpha; I always knew I was too dominant for such an approach. There was a time when I thought I wanted an omega. While I'm not a deeply philosophical man, perhaps things happen for a reason."

He is talking about Rebecca, but it's hard to hold onto the words when he is toying with me. His hand trails across to the other side, and I gasp as he bestows attention on the neglected nipple.

"She's more sensitive here."

"She is," my husband agrees.

"So, yes, there will need to be some preparation, which might take anything from a number of hours to a number of days, or even longer. It can be a challenge even without the knot."

I shudder.

He pinches my nipple and just holds it.

I can't breathe properly, and I begin to squirm.

"Try and sit still, love," The endearment rolls off Frederick's tongue, and it freezes me in place.

My frantic gaze shifts to my husband. His throat bobs as he swallows.

"Some betas respond better than others," Frederick continues. "And are naturally more compatible with an alpha; and the connection increases further over time. There is not so large a difference between a beta who has been bonded to an alpha for a number of years and an omega. Some venture to make nests, much to their alpha's delight. When they are fertile, it can have an almost rut-like effect on their mates."

He withdraws his fingers. My breathing is choppy, and my nipple throbs.

My pussy is drenched and likewise throbs.

He turns toward me and brushes his knuckles absently back and forth over the swell at the side of my breast.

"Your wife has beautiful tits. I don't think I really appreciated them before. Always closeted away behind her... dress. Imagine how full these will be when she is with child. I can well imagine that a naughty wife like Clara would seek her husband's lips to ease the pressure when the little one is full."

My pussy clenches savagely.

He returns his fingers to my nipple, seizes it and tugs vigorously, and my whole body locks up as pleasure tears through me.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! I come, panting, gasping, my pussy clenching over nothing, shocked by this turn of events.

"There," Frederick says, finally releasing my poor abused nipple. "I think we have established that Clara is one such woman who takes well to an alpha."

I sit there, panting and confused, staring at my hands resting on my lap and so hot I fear I might catch fire.

"Of course, some try to fake it. Most alphas are wealthy. They want your wealth but don't care much beyond that. A canny alpha knows. See how she's flushed all the way to the upper swell of her tits." He traces his fingers with his words. "Such a reaction cannot be faked. Clara truly is the preferred kind of beta. The kind that responds. It would take only a small amount of preparation for her to take my cock. It would take considerably more work before the knot. You are a very lucky man to have such a sweet and lusty wife who is so very responsive."

"I would like to see you with her."

"Husband!" The word is punched from my lungs, while at the same time my pussy releases another flood of arousal.

"Hush, Clara." Frederick settles his hand on the back of my neck again. "We have already established that you are a little woozy from my pheromones. You couldn't even be trusted to make a sound decision at this point. If I were to take my cock out, you'd be trying to stuff it into your sweet mouth." He traces my lips as if daring me to dispute this. I find I must fight the urge to open and suck the digit into my mouth. "You would not even care that your husband is watching; that he can see what you do."

A whimper escapes me. I don't think any of us is sound of mind at this point.

My husband has just offered me to another man, and I think that surely we are all very much doomed.