Page 23 of Choosing Her Alpha
Instead she closed her eyes, breathing in the heady smell of their exertions. She knew what sex smelled like—she lived in a brothel, after all—but this sex didn't include things like fear, hunger, or desperation. It wasn't tainted by shine sweat or intoxication. This was pure pleasure and desire.
Sasha couldn't help but suck in that smell, musky and soaked with Kane's special pheromone spice. It stirred up all the genetic memory of her breeder instincts.
It made her desire.
The bodies were all layered and fit together. It looked like all five of the women were with him at once. Kane's back faced her. He was a triangle plank of curved muscles down to his round, pumping ass and the strong, hairy columns of his thick legs.
His muscles moved in a beautiful ripple. And he had no tattoos. Just scars. Lots of scars. Like her. Sasha liked that. She couldn't say why, but those scars were attractive enough to tempt her into leaving the tent so she could touch them, trace the interruptions in the velvet of his dusky, glowing skin.
The flex of his bottom, the smooth movement forward and back, almost a glide, mesmerized her.
What did his face look like? Would she see his pleasure in his eyes, his mouth, the flare of his nostrils? Would his sharp cheeks be flagged in color? What was his cock doing to the woman in front of him?
Sasha knew what brothel sex looked like. The education had been unwanted.
Yet her mouth watered at the thought of Kane educating her.
He knelt on the floor. Behind him, hands running over the sculpted muscles of his back, bottom and legs, pressing herself against him, was the blonde. His hips moved forward and back into a woman on all fours in front of him. Sasha could see a brunette head, long hair flowing, between his slightly spread thighs, pressing up, doing something.
Beside him, also on all fours, knees bent, there was another female, her butt in the air, his thick fingers moving there. That woman—the redhead, had her face awkwardly bent into the crotch of a fourth woman. Both that woman’s hands were holding fistfuls of silky, red hair, forcing the redhead's face close and using her for her pleasure.
Sasha saw a fourth woman, the only woman turned in Sasha's direction.
That woman’s black hair shone blue in the light, the ends draped over her delicate shoulders to curl around the tips of full breasts. They bounced and swayed as she moved her hips into the redhead's face. Her waist dipped inward in an enviable curve to become perfectly rounded hips, the classic hourglass shape of a mature omega breeder.
Bella.
Bella met Sasha's eyes and smiled, a subtle curl of her plump, wet lips. Her eyes glittered.
Nope. Sasha really didn't like Bella.
She dropped the curtain, scrambled back to the bed, and pulled the pillows over her head to block out the pleasure sounds. It didn't help.
Exhausted from the day before, she drifted, unable to fully sleep with the activity just beyond her bed, but so worn out that she wasn't awake either. There were moans and whimpers, pleas and begging, followed by satisfied exhalations of “yes, yes, I'm coming, I'm coming!” It was beautiful and lewd at the same time, and utterly inescapable.
*
Kane was in there for hours. Every time he spoke, some place on Sasha’s body would twinge as if he'd touched her. The silence of his finishing and leaving the room was a sudden shock. She must have drifted, because one moment he was in the next room, growling softly at one of his women, and then he was gone.
She felt his absence keenly, a change in the atmosphere she had to adjust to. He'd gone to his own bed. She could relax now. Sleep now.
She might have slept better if he had stopped having sex, but stayed in the room.
At some point the luxury of the bed she was in became an irritation. Her skin felt tight and hot, the little tent an airless prison. Her body hurt and ached. Her head pounded with each beat of her heart, the lack of sleep making her sick.
She decided she needed the toilet. When she opened the curtain to leave her tent, she found three drones cleaning the room. They piled up the used blankets, pillows, and soft things and exchanged them for fresh ones.
As she watched, they removed the stained cover of the platform bed and wadded it up, replacing it with a new, clean one. They sprayed air freshener and wiped things down with an efficiency that said they had attended this room many times.
All of the five jewels were absent. Likely they were sleeping off the night’s activities in their own tents.
"Good morning," Sasha greeted the servants.
They turned in startled surprise. "Oh, miss," the one nearest her said, "We didn't mean to disturb you. Please forgive us. Just freshening up a bit."
"I'm Sasha. What's your name?"
The woman smiled pleasantly. "Oh, I'm Girta, miss. Please, we will be finished in just a bit, if it's no bother?"
