The water surrounding them rippled, the Alpha easing closer. “It’s a deal. Now, mon chou, brace your hands against the side of the tub and try to relax. Trust me to make it feel good.”
This was too easy by half. “I let you touch me and I get to see Annette?”
Reaching for one of the many items ready for his use on the side of the tub, Jacques purred all the louder. “I’m going to do much more than touch you. I’m going to teach you. I’m going to help you know you are mine.”
Tiles sweating from so much steam, Brenya put her hands to their slickness and braced.
How mistaken she was.
When his finger prodded the last place she ever wanted to be touched again, it was slimy with something the water did not wash away. Something soothing, slippery, and chemical.
Fingers stretched, swished, massaged, and opened her anal opening.
“This was not what I believed you offered.”
Soft lips placed a sucking nip on her earlobe, a male chest warming her back. “Is Annette not worth it? I ask so little, you’ll see. Relax. I need this. You need this. You just don’t understand why.”
She didn’t need sensitive tissues stretched. She didn’t need the reminder that another—a foreign stranger—had been manipulated to penetrate her. All because she was a stupid fool and had not guessed the one called Jules would be sleeping on his ship and not serviced in the palace.
Heart aching for the harm she had caused the Beta, she cried while Jacques cleaned her inside and out. She wept for her mistakes all the while staring at the drips of condensation gathered on the tiles. When his touch retreated and she thought it was over, a sigh left her lips. Only to be chased by a yelp when something thicker, more menacing, and slimed up with that same goo pressed forward. He caught her hips before she might move out of position, and slid his cock through a burning ring despite her squeak of alarm.
“Washed out,” he’d said. She should have known better.
Slow, measured thrusts completely opposite of the manic pounding the Beta had given her while her estrous pheromones had drugged him into little more than a rutting animal. Kissed and caressed while Jacques sought his pleasure, he taught her another lesson in what it meant to be Omega.
His pleasure was her pleasure. Her pleasure was easy to cultivate by one as experienced as he.
Climax was unlike the agony of estrous, or the mind-bending false nirvana of vaginal sex. It was something new, incomplete, yet more. Followed by a strong urge to empty out what he flooded her with on a roar.
Alphas came in copious amounts. Jacques seemed to have extra pride in what he could produce.
Orgasm turned to cramping, Brenya’s forehead to the sweating tiles as she groaned and felt another belly expanding gush.
So taken was he with what took place between them, when she whined and looked over her shoulder to see how much longer this might last, she found Jacques with his eyes squeezed shut, his head thrown back, and his mouth gaping.
She began to mentally count, watching the play of his complete distraction to her discomfort. Caught up, utterly enraptured with his cock in her ass.
Sliding his hand from her hip, he took his knot and squeezed it with a strength that should have caused him pain, treating this as if it were natural.
And came, and came, and came.
While Brenya counted, felt a pressure too uncomfortable to name.
Fifteen minutes. To the second. That was all she could take before she screamed and struck out.
It wasn’t so hard to unseat him, gripping his knot as he was. Despite the water and the slippery tile, despite what leaked from her open ring right down her leg, she ran to the toilet. Releasing so much more than just his come.
Brenya released real anger at how the world could fill her up—mouth, cunt, anus, heart—perverted by another’s charisma.
She released. Warm cream, frothy from the exuberance in which it had both entered and exited her. The scent of semen so strong in the air it almost completely obstructed the scent of blood.
Purging rage, disappointment, frustration, guilt, Brenya did her best to push every last drop of him out of her, knowing exactly what he meant now. His mark had been shot so deep inside it would be leaking out for hours, maybe days considering estrous altered the digestive tract.
This had never been about anal penetration, or sexual gratification. Had it been, Jacques would not have made her endure such copious seed in so unnatural a place.
He was marking what he considered his territory. Marking deep—even though it caused his beloved Omega harm.
And that was telling.
Jacques was threatened by Jules.
An outsider he had tricked into fucking her in the first place.
A foreign dignitary who had a Rebecca.