Page 137 of Run Wild Omega

“Jesus,” he whispers. “Look at her.”

“She’s been producing slick for hours,” Dylan murmurs against my skin. “The sheets, the clothes… it’s on everything.”

Wyatt breaks the kiss. His thumb traces my swollen lips, his eyes black and hungry. He glances at the other two, a silent agreement passing between them as the pack locks into place.

Miles strips off his shirt. His chest is lean and defined in the dim light. He unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down until his cock springs free, thick and slick at the tip.

Dylan follows, his frame denser, built from years of dragging people out of fires. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, and when his hand wraps around the base, my mouth waters.

Wyatt is last. He stands at the foot of the bed and pulls his henley over his head. His body is a map of everything he’s survived. A scar across his ribs. A tattoo on his shoulder. The lean, hard muscle of a man who has spent his life carrying other people’s weight.

He unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down. His cock is rigid against his stomach, the head flushed and wet, and the sight of all three of them, hard and wanting and standing over me, sends a pulse of need through my body so intense that I sob.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Wyatt climbs onto the bed first. He settles between my thighs, his hips pressing mine into the mattress, and the first contact of his cock against my slick, swollen flesh makes us both gasp.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes. “God, Tess, you’re so ready.”

“I’ve been ready,” I whimper. “I’ve been ready since the mountain.”

He kisses me again. Deep. Claiming. His hips roll, sliding his cock through the slick, the friction against my clit making my vision white out. I wrap my good leg around his hip, pulling him closer, trying to draw him inside.

Miles is beside me. His hand cups my breast, his thumb circling my nipple, and his mouth finds my ear. “Tell us what you need,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you.”

“I need everything,” I gasp. “I need all of you. Please. Don’t make me wait.”

Dylan’s hand slides up my other thigh, his fingers tracing the crease where my leg meets my hip. He presses a kiss to my knee, his eyes dark and hungry.

“We’re not going anywhere,” he says. “We’re right here.”

Wyatt shifts. The head of his cock notches against my entrance, and my body opens for him like it was designed to. He pushes in, inch by inch, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on mine.

The stretch is overwhelming. He’s thick, thicker than I remember from when we were teenagers, and my walls clench around him as my body adjusts. He groans, a sound that comes from deep in his chest, and his forehead drops to mine.

“You feel like heaven,” he says. “You feel like coming home.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Then come home.”

He starts to move.

Dylan

Ihave never wanted anything the way I want her.

She grabs Wyatt’s shoulders, her strength surprising all of us, and rolls him onto his back.

Tess straddles him, her leg angled over his hips as she sinks down on his shaft in one fluid slide.

Wyatt groans, his hands finding her hips to steady her. She rides him at a punishing pace, her thighs trembling as she takes all of him. Her back arches, her nails digging into his shoulders, and the broken gasps escaping her throat sink straight into my bones. Sweat sheens across her chest and forehead, glinting in the dim light.

I’m kneeling beside the bed, my hand wrapped around my shaft as I watch. The restraint is agonizing. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to take, to claim, to bury myself inside her. My jaw aches from clenching, my chest heaving as I track the slick coating her inner thighs, the flush creeping up her neck, and the way her body moves with every downward drive.

But Wyatt keeps his hips anchored, keeping his pace controlled beneath her, suppressing his knot so the rest of us get our share. It’s an act of pure discipline.

Miles shifts up behind her, his body coiled tight. He doesn’t handle her like Wyatt does; where Wyatt relies on power, Miles operates with precision. He palms her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she whines, while his tongue traces a path down her sweat-slick spine.

Tess turns her head, her eyes finding mine through the haze.