Trained For Their Pleasure (Omega Prey Book 5) Page 6

  “My younger brother has been left too long alone as it is. The lad has a propensity for trouble that needs to be kept in check. We will travel slowly, but I need to return today.”

  She nods.

  I rise, retrieving my pants and forcing my stiff length inside while having words with it. Alas, there is no hope. I am doomed to travel the entire way with an iron-hard cock and half-formed knot.

  I help her to clean up again and to dress. She is pale but only moving with a touch of stiffness and the occasional grimace. There is a small bit of complaining when I tell her there will be no underthings. Sensing my determination in this matter, she does as she is told. The climate is much warmer in the valley that our clan calls home, and she will soon be dressed in the hide dresses that will make her available for my ravishment and pleasure. I smirk, thinking about the protests that are sure to accompany me presenting her with new clothes. I anticipate a great deal of discipline in her future. The lass does try to be good, but she is naturally a brat and needs correction.

  Her father returns as we are ready to leave. Despite all his gruff protests that he wished to marry her off, the old goat has tears in his eyes as he gives the lass a hug. Gathering her few personal possessions, I ready Sable. Now that this is done, I am impatient to be home.

  I lift Hazel into the saddle before mounting behind her. Her little hiss brings an unwitting smile to my lips, for her discomfort is no laughing matter. But alas, she is cursed to be adorable, and it is hard to keep the grin off my face.

  With a wave to old Pike, we ride down Oxenford high street to a gaggle of onlookers. Doubtless, they will soon be gossiping about Pike’s poor whelp being absconded in broad daylight by the barbarian king.

  We do not travel far before I feel her small body soften against me. She is tired, and that is my fault, I know.

  “Once home, you will have leave to rest,” I say.

  She nods but remains quiet, and I think my sweet little Beta is napping.

  I was, of course, lying about her having a rest. For I already know that I will be deepening the bonding process by rutting her every chance I get.

  Hazel

  I spend a good deal of the journey trying to sleep. It is not so easy, and I believe I’m making myself feel worse rather than better. We soon cross the great Yalmore River, taking a steady descent toward his homelands. I have never ventured across the river before, and I admit to experiencing nerves. The trees change notably the further we descend. Becoming taller, with great vines hanging heavily from their branches. They form a canopy around us, bracing the path we follow and sheltering us from the sun.

  The air grows humid and warm.

  I am still sore, although the oil has helped some. But I’m tired, and when I fail to sleep, I grow fidgety and restless.

  “We will stop for a short break,” he announces. Urging the horse from the path, he follows a smaller track for a short distance before stopping at the side of a stream. Here, he helps me down.

  While he fills the water skins and allows the horse to drink, I go and do my business before cleaning the stickiness that lingers in the stream. He leaves me to it. Goddess, this is all very awkward. Underlying all of this are my fears for the new home and people I am yet to meet.

  I wonder about the people of his clan and what they are like.

  I wonder about his younger brother, who Jack has said is rough in his ways. I sensed none of this when I last saw Fen, but a good number of years have passed. I dare say we have both changed.

  A stick of jerky is passed to me when I return to where Jack waits with the horse. I chew on it while he heads back to the river to fill another water skin. With his proud bearing and a warrior’s body, he is no stranger to conflict; the scars tell me as much. But a man of a clan is not only a warrior. He must be a hunter and a farmer even, maybe some of both. The lord overseeing my former village is a fair-minded man, and we are lucky to be under his guardianship, for not all lords are kind. Will Jack’s lord be a fair man? Or will he be a tyrant? My stomach roils as I worry about this, and I put the half-eaten jerky aside. Jack seemed eager to return. If his lord was a monster, I cannot see this would be so. Perhaps it is worried about his brother that drives his determination to return today—he has suggested as much.

  He returns to the horse, water skin in hand, walking toward his horse, when he abruptly stops.

  He is not looking at the horse; he is looking at me.

  Looking at me in the way of a man who wants his mate.

  I suck a sharp breath in. He wants to rut me. Right here and right now. I suffer a sudden and foolish urge to run. My pussy clenches. This is what he talked about when he claimed me. Jack wants me, and I’m expected to present. I can see the stillness in him. My chest saws unsteadily as I come to terms with what he needs me to do.

  I turn slowly, peeking back at him over my shoulder so that I might better judge his mood. His nostrils flare, and he tosses the water skin aside. Goddess, he really wants me now—wants me to present myself for rutting. My legs turn to jelly as I sink to my knees. My pussy grows wet in anticipation of the dark stretching I will suffer as he forces his monstrous rod inside my tight Beta pussy. Bracing my palms to the rough forest floor, I reach one hand back to tug up my skirts.

  This is so shameful, presenting myself to a dominant male. I feel so conflicted doing this. My pussy clenches fiercely as the cool air meets the dampness between my legs.

  “Good girl,” he praises, and my chest swells that I have pleased him. “Cant your ass and entice your mate to rut you.”

  I swallow. Lowering my head, I widen my thighs and push my ass up. His low growl speaks of great need. I know he is staring at what I have exposed.

  “Now, reach your hands back, and pull yourself open so that I can better see where you need my cock.”

  The Alpha’s debauchery knows no bounds. Hands shaking, I press my forehead to the floor and pull my bottom open, exposing my feminine place completely to his view.

  I hear the clink of his buckle and thud as his belt drops to the floor. Then heat as he kneels behind me. “What a sweet little Beta,” he rumbles. “Presenting her pussy for a ravishment.” The blunt tip of his cock swipes the length of my slit, and I nearly collapse. His low growl warns me to hold the position. “I can see how wet you are from our last coupling. All slick and ready for me to work my cock deeper this time.” I hear the pop as he uncorks the bottle of oil he tucked in his pocket earlier. A low groan follows. The sticky sounds tell me he is working oil over his shaft.

  Then the tip is presented to my weeping entrance. It slips in a small distance with ease, forcing me to stretch around that bulbous head.

  “Goddess, your pussy is a fucking test,” he growls. “Lower your hands now, lass, and brace yourself for a rutting.”

  No sooner do my hands lower when he surges deeply. I gasp, biting my lip against the sudden sting of straining muscles.

  “Fucking perfect,” he growls. “So fucking tight and slippery.” He makes a series of shallow thrusts that have me gasping and fighting the urge to wriggle away from the burning flesh spearing me. “Does it hurt?” he asks as he slowly fucks in and out.

  “Yes,” I gasp. “It’s too big.”

  “Clench,” he demands, following the command up with a sharp spank to my ass. “Good girl. Grip your master’s cock and encourage him to fill your pussy with his seed.”

  “Oh!” I do not like clenching. It makes me ache inside as he thrusts.

  “That’s my sweet little Beta. Now, relax for your master that he might better open you up for his pleasure.”

  I squeal as he sinks deeper than he has ever before, but he has my hips in a bruising grip and continues to rut me without mercy. My pussy gives under his savagery, and I feel myself take more and more. The sensitive inner walls straining and blooming between fierce pleasure and pain. “I do this for your own benefit,” he says. “My brother is not a patient lad, and he will be trying to force his full length and knot int
o you the moment my back is turned. He is a rough lad with a great appetite for rutting. Once he sees your sweetness, he will not want to slack his lust on any other lass. You must warrant him the same respect you give me. If he needs you, as he will frequently, you will present yourself for his use and ravishment. If your little pussy is too sore, you should take his cock in your mouth and encourage him to spill his seed that way.”

  Every word is accompanied by him driving a little deeper. I can feel myself opening in ways that alarm me. I try to clench instinctively that it might hope to push the punishing rod out.

  He growls. “What a sweet treasure you are, encouraging your Alpha to rut you rougher.”

  I think I’m going numb under this deep rutting, for I cannot feel a thing. As if sensing this, his fingers find my clit, and the sensations come rushing back.

  “No!” I wail. I do not want to come. Coming will make me clench over him, and it is the darkest, most depraved climax around an Alpha’s cock.

  “Come for me,” he commands. “Come all over my cock. Grip me and encourage me to give you my seed.”

  I squeal as I come. The dark, skittering pleasure is intense, and my muscles grip so tightly, he can barely force his length in and out. His fingers bite into my hips, and I groan as he thrusts deep.

  A climax tears through me, darker and deeper, and I twitch and thrash, all while impaled on him. Body convulsing in dark rapture, I strain to press back in a confused state that impossibly demands more.

  He growls, holding me still despite my wild thrashing.

  Then I feel it, the thick swelling trying to breach my entrance. Goddess help me. I am not ready for his knot!

  “My tummy hurts,” I whine. My pussy still clenches around him, and my hips are moving of their own volition as I seek more.

  He chuckles. “Naughty lass,” he says affectionately. “You are all full up with my cum, yet greedy for more. I will not give you my knot yet. Try and stop milking me, lass, or it might encourage me to force the knot in fully formed.”

  I clench harder, and it tips me straight into another savage climax.

  Jack

  She strains, thrashes, and finally falls completely limp on my cock. I ease out of her hot cunt and turn her over gently to make sure she is alright. A weak moan accompanies her stomach clenching, and a great river of cum is ejected from her battered little pussy. “Oh!” Her hips begin to move, lifting and undulating against the ground.

  I chuckle. The lass is not suffering; she is merely coming even in her post rutting daze.

  Pressing my palm to her flat tummy, I hold her still. Immediately, her pussy clenches and another flood gushes out.

  Poor lass, I have really filled her up. I use my finger and thumb to pull her little pussy open, so I can better see how well she has softened. My cock grows stone hard as I watch her try to force my seed out as she continues to come.

  My cock jerks, heavy and hot. I want to fill her again.

  Tempering my desire, I coax the lass up. She wants to go and clean. I forbid it. Once we arrive at Ralston, I will be burning this fucking dress. “I need to rut you again,” I say roughly. “But I can yet wait until we arrive, knowing you are full and scented with my seed.”

  She swallows and nods, sensing rightly that she should not push me in this matter unless she wants my palm against her ass. I tell myself that she is not an Omega, that my scent and cum smothering her do not arouse and comfort her in the same way. I do not fucking care that she is not an Omega. And she will learn to accept my ways, or her bottom will spend a lot of time very sore.

  I lift her onto the horse, trying unsuccessfully to get the image of her well chastised bottom from my mind. Then I think about how she came hard while I teased her little bottom hole, and I know I will not be able to wait long before I take her in that way.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hazel

  I AM STICKY and twice as sore as I was this morning, which I thought was bad enough. I cannot get the smell of Jack’s cum out of my nose. My dress is surely ruined, and it was not like I was allowed to bring more. Every little movement pushes out wetness. Given we are riding, it feels like I am leaking all the time. No one explained that Alphas come so much. This is assuredly not an average amount.

  But I am drained, and exhaustion pulls me into a fitful doze.

  The light has faded toward dusk when he nudges me awake. We skirt the shore of a great loch, and it glistens with magic under the setting sun. Tall trees surround the far shore, but the valley is divided into farming plots on this side. To the center lies the many homes. They sprawl out toward the shoreline and nestle into the lower slopes of the mountain.

  My eyes widen in wonder. I have never been in the eastern lands, never mind seen a clan. I had thought them to be basic and brutish because that is how their people appear, but it is nothing of the kind. The homes are all wooden and range in size from modest homes, similar to my father’s cottage, to much grander structures twice as high. The design is foreign to me, yet I see the craftsmanship in the ornate gables on the more lavish homes.

  As we near, people call greetings. I feel small and shy sitting as I do before this proud warrior. Their attire is strange to me, hide tunics and pants that are sometimes plain and sometimes stained into shades of blue and red.

  We pull up outside the grandest building of all. A set of wooden steps lead to double doors. Clearly, it is the home of the clan lord.

  Not a lord, I tell myself, for the clans all have kings. My eyes widen as I take in the animal carvings that sweep to either side of the great double doors. The carvings twist and twirl, like they are alive. I cannot wait for daylight so that I might see the wonder well. Upon leaving my father’s cottage, I had thought of myself coming to live in rural poverty, but now I see it is nothing of the sort.

  I glance over my shoulder at Jack to find him studying me with an expression that is hard to read in the fading light. Has he come to present me to their king?

  “What if your king does not like me?” I ask before I can think better about it, for I am nervous suddenly. “What if he makes you send me away?” I did not want this man yesterday. I am still fearful of all the things he intends to do, and there is yet his brother to contend with. But I do not want to be sent away from this Alpha who is gentle with me even as he forces me to take his cock. There are good men, and there are wicked men. He may wish to do wickedness to me, but he is not a wicked man, and I want to stay with him very much.

  We are mated now, I remind myself, but I am still worried.

  “Hail, Jack,” a man calls in greeting, distracting us both. He is a warrior, dressed similarly to Jack with broad shoulders and a muscular chest. One arm bears similar tattoos to those on Jack’s arm, but they are neither as intricate nor as extensive. “You have returned with a prize!”

  Jack laughs as he dismounts the horse before lifting me down.

  “Not a prize, a mate,” he corrects the man. “Glen, meet Hazel.”

  Glen bows touching his fingers to his forehead. They are unexpectedly formal here. Rising, Glen calls over his shoulder, and a young lad comes running to collect the horse. A few people gather on the periphery. Some of them hasten up the stairs to open the huge doors. One disappears inside with a tray bearing food and drink.

  I try to gawk at the grand house in fear of the king’s imminent arrival.

  “Where’s Fen?” Jack asks the other man.

  My tummy gets a little fluttery thinking about Fen. Frowning, Jack draws me against his side. I like having his arm around me, and the way he offers a low purr in seeking to ease my nerves.

  “He left a few days ago,” Glen says. “Reckoned he was going hunting, but he took Brandon with him, and they did not take only hunting bows. But otherwise, it has been trouble-free in your absence.”

  “Damn whelp,” Jack mutters before tightening his arm around me. “The lass needs rest. We will speak on the morrow.”

  The man tips his head in deference again and takes
his leave.

  “Come, lass,” Jack says, his eyes darkening as he studies me. “I promised myself I would let you rest, but I will need you again before we sleep.”

  I swallow as he takes my hand in his and leads me up the steps. The people waiting at the doors close them around us, leaving us seemingly alone.

  A long wooden table dominates, and in the center rests the tray of food and drink. A well-stocked hearth is currently unlit. Several lamps provide illumination.

  I am thinking about his determination that he will rut me again. But I am also thinking about the fact that we are in this lordly residence alone.

  As I glance up, our eyes meet. I am confused for many stretched moments as I try to dismiss the presented facts.

  “This is a grand home,” I whisper. “As might belong to a king.”

  “Aye,” he says. “It is all that and mine.”

  He is not only a warrior. No, Jack is the king and leader of this barbarian clan.

  Beyond the main hall is a sectioned-off bedding chamber the size of my father’s home. It is dominated by a large, raised platform that is deeply layered with furs and pelts. While the space is enormous, it is also intimate—the bed is inviting. We are alone. I am his now, and there is no turning back. I do not want to turn back, truth be told, but I am nervous all over again.

  He undresses me slowly, stripping shoes and layers a piece at a time.

  “You will not wear these again,” he says, tossing them aside as though disgusted. “You will dress as my mate should when needs be. But you should expect to spend much of your time naked, awaiting my pleasure.”

  My pussy clenches at this news. I may be Jack’s mate, but I am also lowly. He has told me many times that he will rut me often and intends for me to be gotten with child swiftly. I admit that I have longed to be with a child. My mother died when I was ten. My father married again, but she was not a motherly woman toward any of my father’s many whelps. I cared for my younger brothers and sisters until I married myself. Children are a source of noise, conflict, and screaming half the time. But they can also be sweet and find wonder in the simplest of things. It saddened me that I never caught with my late husband, although I take comfort that the Goddess had other plans for me now.