29. When It Hurts

When It Hurts

Titus

I've never been the type of guy that feels at home in brothels, but there's something about being back here at Opulence that is comforting. I think it's just knowing what to expect. I've worked security at this omega house on and off for years. I know the layout, the johns, the omegas, and I've seen pretty much every worse-case scenario already played out.

Here, in this windowless hallway illuminated by purple lights on the baseboards, I am at the top of the food chain. It doesn't matter if they are alphas or undesignated, I can kick the ass of anyone who steps foot through the door. Sure, anything can happen, but it won't be gladiator fights, lashings, or near-deadly temper tantrums of a bratty omega.

One of the omegas steps out of a playroom and stops when she sees me. In nothing but heels and a lingerie garter set, she leans against the doorjamb and eyes me. "Hey, handsome, where you been?"

"You look good, Maj. They treating you right around here?" Majestic is one of the few working girls I'd bang on occasion. Usually, the way she leans in the doorway with a body made for fucking would have me pushing her back into the room and locking the door behind us.

"Same old, same old." She shrugs like she couldn't care less but drags her sultry, glowing eyes slowly up and down the length of my body. "Are you looking for a little of the same old?"

"Not tonight. Just need a place to crash." Add my sex drive to the list of things Sinclair has fucked up for me. If it's not her, I don't want it. And that's a problem because I don't want her. "Actually, could I ask you something?"

"Sure, babe, you can ask me anything. You know my hourly." She gives me a coy smile with a hint of saltiness.

I chuckle, stepping up to her and tracing my molars with my tongue—it won't hurt to pretend a little. "Let me get this straight, I can fuck you for free, but I have to pay to ask you a few questions?"

"Don't act surprised. You know my time doesn't come free. You have to pay one way . . ." She drops her eyes to my dick. ". . . or another."

"Fine." I shake my head with a playful scoff and pull out my wallet. Handing her a hundred dollar bill, I ask, "You ever get men in gold animal masks coming in here?"

She doesn't even have to think about it. "Oh yeah, they're into some freaky shit. Apparently, they're members of the Echelon." She lifts her brows in a way that doesn't appear she's convinced.

I hadn't heard about this when I was working, but I'm sure I only heard half the crazy stuff that goes down here. "What type of stuff are they into?"

"They like cutting the girls up. Blood, knife play, nasty shit like that." She purses her lips in disgust.

"Yeah." I try to hide the way my jaw immediately clenches at her disdain. "Sounds like they're real pricks."

"Exactly, and that's why I don't believe they're really the Echelon. I mean, aren't they supposed to have their own sex slaves or something? Why come here when they can get it for free?" She rolls her eyes, and I force myself to breathe evenly. She doesn't know, I remind myself.

"Who knows?" I try to act casual and uninformed. "That's it, thanks, Maj." I hand her another fifty then head to the staff rooms.

I go to one of the bedrooms reserved for staff to use between shifts and lock the door with a deep sigh. I don't know what bothered me more, that she talks with such repulsion about the Echelon or that I care.

They are repulsive. I fucking hate everyone of those gold-masked freaks. But the only way to take down an entity as powerful as the Echelon is from the inside.

As I collapse on the bed, exhausted by more than just today's excursion, I realize why it's so devastating Sinclair's gotten her claws into Ecker and Bishop. The more she gets them under her spell, the less they seem to remember the real fucking reason we're doing all this.

The scene today on the lawn, with the Berylls jumping off the dock and splashing around, seemed like something out of a goddamn summer camp. It's like Ecker and Bishop have completely forgotten we're on enemy territory.

I run my hands over my face. I knew the Trials weren't going to be easy, but I didn't think this would be why.

I wasn't planning on spending the entire night, was just going to give myself a few hours to fucking breathe. But as I stare up at the ceiling fan going round and round, the thought of returning to the Estate right now seems worse than hell.

I get out my phone and pull up a text chain with Ecker and Bishop.

Titus: Taking longer than expected. Crashing at Opulence. Will be back tomorrow afternoon.

I toss my phone on the mattress beside me and go back to mindlessly tracking the fan. A few minutes later, my phone starts buzzing. I plan to ignore it, figuring it's just a text back, but it keeps vibrating. Slightly annoyed, I pick it up. It's a video call from Ecker.

I answer, holding the phone above my head where I lie flat on my back. "Hey, E, what's up?" His side connects but it's just a wide shot of Bishop's bedroom. "Hello?"

I'm too tired for Ecker's shit and am about to hang up when I hear his voice, but not in reply to me. Sinclair hops on the side of Bishop's bed. My throat constricts. She's in a T-shirt like in my dream—nightmare—but instead of mine, I recognize it's Bishop's.

"Paisley says have fun and she wants it back." Ecker steps into the frame and hands a bottle of something to her, then plants his hands on the mattress on either side of her. As he leans forward, she leans back with a small giggle.1

"Hey," I shout, becoming increasingly aggravated. I swear to God, if he called me then forgot about me as soon as she walked into the room . . . My knuckles whiten around my phone. I sit up and yell into the microphone. "Hey, fucker!"

It's like he can't even fucking hear me.

It's a hell of a challenge not to throw my phone at the wall, aggression rut sparking at my senses. Not to mention, on top of this whole place smelling like omega pussy, I'm now watching the object of all my ire scoot into the center of the bed while my brother crawls on top of her.

He slides his hand between her legs and chuckles darkly. "Already so goddamn soaked. Been thinking about me fucking your tight, little ass, hmm?"

She bites her lip and nods meekly. "Mm-hmm."

"Or was it thinking about taking my knot while your ass is full with his cock?" Bishop steps into the frame, already naked, looking like he just stepped out of the shower.

"Both." By her breathy tone, I can imagine the flush that must be creeping up her cheeks right now.

Bishop climbs onto the bed and lies on his back, hands behind his head propped on a pillow. "And what about having your mouth filled? How about you get my cock nice and sloppy while Ecker stretches that tight hole."

"Yes, Alpha," she purrs and hovers on all fours over his thighs. My breaths become shallow and harried as she bends over to take him in her mouth. The shirt falls toward her shoulders as she puts her ass in the air, giving me a full view.

I hate how hard my cock instantly gets. I can't fucking breathe as she widens her knees, putting her pink pussy lips and pert ass on full display. I swear I can see the slick coating her inner thighs.

When Ecker stands at the foot of the bed behind her, I actually tilt my head as if it will stop him from blocking her. Jesus Christ . . . I can't be doing this shit. I feel like a voyeur. He must have somehow accidentally called me when he set his phone down.

Yet, I can't quite seem to hang up. Instead, I put my phone face down on the bed with a big breath, my dick swelling uncomfortably in my jeans, and I get up to pace, running my hand back and forth over my buzzcut.

Shit, you know what, I'm just going to rub one out in the shower. I'll remove this image that's burned in my head then pass the fuck out.

"That's it, Omega, deeper, deeper." Bishop's taut voice cuts through my racing thoughts, and suddenly, I'm back on the bed, phone in hand and dick still raging in my pants.

Ecker palms her cheeks wide as he eats her ass. The delicious sounds of Sinclair's muffled moans are broken up by the sound of her choking when Bishop pushes her head farther down his length. His fingers are knit tightly in her hair, and I can almost feel those silky strands between my own.

I strip my shirt as my body begins to overheat and ache the more I fight the rut trying to overtake my sanity. I refuse to give her this power over me when she isn't even here. And yet, again, I can't bring myself to hang up.

So, I sweat and groan as pain pulses through my muscles. It becomes infinitely harder to keep it together when Ecker takes the bottle he brought and squirts what I assume is lube on his fingers.

My teeth grind together, the sound ricocheting in my head, as he slowly pushes one into her back hole. "Breathe, baby girl," he coos, kissing the dimples on her lower back. "Yes, just like that, let me in."

The sweetness in his tone makes me irate. I don't even recognize him. Baby girl? Baby girl?!

After a few more torturous moments of watching her choke on Bishop, Ecker works his way up to two fingers. He pumps them in and out until her body is fully relaxed and loose, no more sharp, twitchy movements. She just rocks with him, bobbing up and down on Bishop.

"Oh fuck," Bishop curses, his neck straining, and his fingers in her hair twist tighter. "All—all of it—yes—what a good fucking omega. Take. It. All." He growls, holding Sinclair's head in place where she deepthroats him, and comes with a strangled groan.

When he's done, he lets her up and she pops off his cock with a huge gasp. "Fucking hell, come here." He rips her face toward him and kisses her like I've never seen him kiss anyone. Like his whole fucking soul is in it.

They finally part, and Ecker kneels at the bottom of the bed, now also nude. "Take this fucking thing off." He tugs on her shirt, and Bishop yanks it over her head.

Ecker reaches around to cup her breasts, and she sits back on her knees to rest against his chest. Rolling her head to the side, she sighs in pleasure as he lathes her neck with his lips and tongue.

I can't see his face, but I can see Bishop's and he closes his eyes with a deep inhale. They both growl low and hungry, and I know what they're smelling. I know the hypnotizing way her already unbearably delicious scent morphs into something carnal and muskier when she's desperate for dick.

As if thinking the exact same thing, Ecker groans into her skin. "Your body is already begging, but will you beg? For me? For my cock?"

I expect a snotty comeback or insult, but instead she mewls needily. "I want your cock to stretch my tiny hole."

I'm dumbstruck. Shows how much I fucking know about what's supposed to be my pack.

"Then bend over, slut," Ecker says with a husky sound, part-laugh, part-growl. He pushes her forward, and her palms land on Bishop's thighs. Bishop catches her face between his hands, brushing her hair out of her face. I see his lips move but can't hear what he whispers softly to her. A knife twists in my gut.

Ecker puts more lube on his dick and between her cheeks and props one of his feet flat on the mattress. "God," he groans, using one hand to grip her hip and the other to position his cock at her back entrance. "I can't wait to ride this ass."

She keens as he pushes his pelvis forward and slides into her. All the while, Bishop is talking her through it in that same unintelligible tone.

"So fucking tight," he bites out, and I watch his fingers dig into her hip. She starts breathing evenly, and he builds up to steady thrusts until she's moaning continuously.

When he slows to a stop, she continues to rock back and forth herself, chasing his cock like she can't get enough.

"That's it. Bounce back on me, baby girl. Fuck yourself on my cock."

"Oh god, oh god," she cries, and her thighs begin to tremble.

"Jesus, you're going to come just from him fucking your ass, aren't you?" Bishop gasps.

"Ye—ye—yes!" she screams and shatters. Ecker grabs hold of her hips and brutally fucks her through it until she's sobbing and gasping for air. "Oh. My. God."

She collapses onto Bishop's chest, panting. The slight side angle I get of her face shows her looking dazed and blissed out. I expect her to pass out after that, but she turns her face up to Bishop and says, "I want you both."

"Fuck," Bishop, Ecker, and I all say at the same time.

"Switch places," Sinclair tells the two of them.

Ecker ends up lying diagonally on his back with one leg hanging off the foot of the bed and the other flat on the mattress corner. With her back facing him, she straddles his hips and drizzles more lube on his cock in between her legs. She strokes him, working it up and down before fitting the tip at her ass and slowly lowering herself down on his cock.

Bishop stands on the floor at the corner of the bed between their legs. He props one foot up on the other side of Ecker's lifted knee. One of Sinclair's legs drapes over Bishop's thigh while Ecker holds the other one out so that when Bishop rocks his hips forward in a lunge, his cock lines up with her pussy.

Bishop sputters a curse as his thick head disappears into her. She rolls her neck to the side and her brows pinch together as he sinks inch after inch. Her mouth falls open, and they all moan in unison.

The sound of their shared pleasure is almost too much to bear. My finger hovers over the end call button when suddenly her eyes snap to the camera. I freeze as if she can actually see me, as if she knows I'm watching.

Maybe it's the rut finally rotting my brain, but it looks like her eyes narrow ever so slightly and a small smirk dances on her lips.

"I love taking you both."

Once she says those words, there's no mistaking it. It's no trick of the eye.

"Fucking bitch," I thunder.

She called me. She set this up. She wanted me to see just how deep her claws are.

Enraged, I scream into the phone. Not even words, just a roar like a wild animal.

Fuck this. Fuck her.

I undo my pants with such force, I break the damn zipper. The sound of stitches tearing is innocuous next to the burning rage catapulting me into full-on rut.

It heightens all my senses. The video seems better, details I couldn't see before now clear. It no longer feels like I am listening through a phone. It sounds like they are in the room with me. The sounds of their bodies slapping together, of her begging Bishop to choke her harder, of Ecker grunting with every one of Bishop's thrusts that sends Sinclair rocking on his cock are all so sharp.

I strip my cock, my fist pumping up and down. I spit on it and imagine it's her slick coating my shaft.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I grunt, punching up into my fist.

I've never been as mad and turned on as I am now, watching their bodies collide and merge. Bishop pushes down on her lower stomach while Ecker reaches around to play with her clit. It's a symphony of limbs and movement, their music painfully beautiful.

Sinclair's voice rises and she chants please over and over. My balls draw tight as I pretend it's my cock she's about to come on, my seed that's going to be spilling out of her.

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she mewls, coming apart once again. The pleasure strikes like lightning, tearing through me as I come violently, cum spewing on my stomach and down my fist.

Ecker and Bishop finish with bellowing groans, and immediately the sick feeling of losing comes over me. Any afterglow is gone the second she looks breathlessly at the camera and smiles deviously, trailing her tongue across her teeth.

I'm struck with such an overwhelming feeling of loss, and want, and need, and heartache that my jaw cramps and my eyes burn. I'm so angry and frustrated and spent in more ways than one that I don't immediately recognize this unfamiliar physical urge.

Stinging, my eyes begin to water, and I realize I'm about to fucking cry.

I hurl my phone at the wall with a yell and hear the glass screen shatter.

She won, and I don't fucking care.

I choke as the first tear spills.

I care.

I care too damn much.

1. Play "PIECES" by Elley Duhé