Shared Omega (Quarantine Omega Book 2)

by Lizzy Bequin

  Fine. I’ll use that to do what needs to be done.

  I turn around briefly to make sure Dog isn’t watching. Striped with moonlight, his back is turned to me as he prepares to take care of his own business.

  Good. I face the wall again and get to work.

  I slide one hand down between my legs and rub myself through the tight material that remains of my bodysuit. Even through the layer of protective material, my sex is extraordinarily sensitive—almost sore with arousal. I go slowly at first, then I pick up the pace, rubbing myself more firmly as I bite back the embarrassing sounds welling up in my throat.

  Behind me, on the other side of the room, Dog spits, and a moment later, I hear the slick sounds of his stroking.

  Inside my tattered shorts, my panties dampen with my arousal as I picture his member in my mind’s eye—long and thick and engorged with desire.

  My fingers slip inside my panties and I touch myself, skin on skin. My parting is wetter than it’s ever been before—so wet that it’s trickling down my inner thighs.

  “Oh fuck,” I whisper, sucking air between my teeth.

  My sex is almost too tender to touch, but I can’t help myself. I have to do it. It’s not only a matter of diminishing my scent. My lust is almost overwhelming now, and I need some kind of release or I’m going to scream.

  I touch my tingling clit, rubbing it in a circular rhythm, keeping time with the slick sounds of Dog’s jacking behind me.

  A sudden impulse comes over me to turn around and look at him, but I catch myself as I remember that all of this is being monitored. Everything that I see is recorded by my neural implant and transmitted back to SynerGen for Frostgrave’s viewing pleasure.

  But the temptation is too great.

  I can’t resist.

  I only steal one quick glance over my shoulder, but in that instant I get more than an eyeful.

  Dog has completely disrobed, dropping his shorts to the floor, and he is now standing in the buff. His broad, muscular back is sheened with sweat and painted with silvery stripes of moonlight like a white tiger’s pelt. His hard, powerful butt clenches tightly as he violently pumps his cock into his fist, grunting with each thrust.

  When I turn back around, the image of that perfect male backside stays burned in my mind’s eye. I rub myself even harder, yet somehow it’s not working. My arousal continues mounting, but I can’t find my climax.

  “Please,” I whisper so softly to myself, begging my own body to just give in and release this building tension.

  My tattered shorts are constrictive, and it’s hard to maneuver. I slide them down so I can touch myself more freely.

  Behind me, Dog lets out a deep groan.

  For a moment I think he has spilled his semen, but when the slick friction of his fist and shaft continues, I know that’s not the case. Then I realize what’s causing him to make those noises.

  My scent. My omega scent.

  Unconstrained by my clothing, the odors wafting from my naked sex must be even more intense than before.

  I need to finish this, and now.

  Sliding my middle finger between my folds, I press inside my hole, stroking my soft inner tissue while simultaneously grinding my palm against my aching clit. My finger, however, isn’t quite long enough. I can’t quite reach my special, tender place inside.

  “Please,” I whisper again, barely more than a mere exhalation.

  My pussy is swollen and pulsing with desire. My crotch and thighs are smeared with my fluids. I feel so fucking horny that it hurts, and if I don’t come soon, I think I just might explode.

  “Please…”

  A sudden and unexpected touch causes me to gasp with fright.

  Twin hands, gentle but strong, grip my bare shoulders and pull me back until I find myself pressed against a rock-hard, lightly furred chest and carved abdominals that conform perfectly to the curvature of my lower back.

  And below that, something even harder prods against the cleft of my naked butt where my shorts are pulled down.

  “Dog,” I whisper.

  How did he cross the room without making so much as a sound?

  He envelops we with his strong arms and his even stronger animal musk. His warm breath ghosts over the top of my head and down my face. One massive hand slides down my belly toward the joining of my thighs.

  “Wait,” I gasp, catching his wrist just as his fingertips reach the top of my tuft. “Don’t…”

  His other hand slides around my throat, holding me tightly. The feeling is something akin to having one’s neck in a tiger’s jaws. I’ve seen what those hands are capable of today. One squeeze and he could crush me.

  But I know that’s not what he wants.

  “You know what to say to make me stop,” he purrs.

  He’s right. I do remember—stand down. But I’m not sure now if that command will work.

  And I’m not sure if I even want it to.

  The beat of his pulse is rapid and intense in his hard cock, which is wedged against my ass. His tip leaks a few drops of precum down my tailbone. His hand at my throat tilts my head back until I’m looking up at him, his shadowed face upside down in my vision.

  “Sloane.” His voice is a low, rumbling growl. “Let me help you.”

  His tone makes it clear that it’s not a request.

  It’s not a suggestion.

  It’s a command.

  CHAPTER 9: DOG

  The little omega gazes up at me with a look of yearning mingled with apprehension.

  Her name is Sloane. Lance Corporal Jessica Sloane. But the animal voice in my head keeps calling her the little omega.

  My little omega.

  Claim her, that inner voice snarls. Ruin her. Mark her with your seed.

  My hand is on her throat now. The pulse in her jugular ticks against my fingers. The warm, raw scent billowing from every recess and crevice of her ripe body makes my brain itch with obsessive desire, and it takes every last ounce of my willpower to keep my bestial urges in check.

  If I tried to claim her now—tried to fully claim her—it would no doubt break her. That’s exactly what the beast inside me wants. But I must do my best to be gentle.

  My hand smooths down her body, toward the center of her need.

  “Dog,” she gasps, and almost shouting, she demands, “Stand down!”

  Automatically, my conditioning kicks in. I let go of her and take a step away. I have no choice but to obey that command that has been so deeply ingrained in my psyche by Dr. Frostgrave and his team. But it pains me to do so.

  Literal pain.

  My whole body burns with desire to fulfil my omega’s needs.

  When I speak, my voice comes out as a deep, rumbling purr.

  “Listen to me, Sloane. This is a matter of life and death.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  I find myself laughing despite the gravity of the situation. A sharp barking laugh that makes Sloane’s startled body jump in the darkness. I remember that we need to be quiet, and I get myself under control.

  “Yeah, well, it works most of the time,” I reply.

  Sloane chuckles at that, and I sense some of the tension go out of her muscles. That’s good. She needs to relax. She needs to let me take control. But she’s going to have to give up some power to do that.

  “Sloane,” I say, trying my best to keep my voice calm and level—no easy feat with the desperate chaos of emotions churning inside me. “No offense, but it’s obvious that you aren’t able to take care of this by yourself.”

  Her shadowy figure stiffens a little. After a moment, she speaks defiantly.

  “Oh yeah? And you think you can do a better job?”

  It’s dark in here, so she probably can’t see the smirk curling at my lips.

  My experience with women is…extensive.

  Dr. Frostgrave has two methods of reinforcing my conditioning. One is punishment. Even the slightest mistake in my training means hours spent inside the
pain-glove, a device which turns every nerve ending into a raging inferno of pure pain without doing any actual physical harm to my body.

  I am, after all, a very expensive weapon, as Frostgrave is fond of reminding me.

  However, my good behavior is met with the other method of reinforcement.

  Reward.

  And my rewards have always come in female form.

  I don’t know where Frostgrave acquires the women, but I can only assume that they are prostitutes. Based on their looks and their skills, they are probably high-class pleasure girls from the upper tiers of the city hive. No doubt, they cost SynerGen a pretty penny. Plus, Frostgrave has to inject them with special relaxant chemicals that allow their bodies to…accommodate my size.

  The important thing for an Alpha, however, is not simply his release. Yes, that is required to keep me sane. But I need so much more than that. I need to hear my mate scream with pleasure as she writhes under the touch of my fingers, my tongue, my cock.

  My knot.

  I feed off those pleasure sounds and those spasms of ecstasy. I drink them up like blood.

  By the time I’m finished with my “rewards,” the lab assistants usually have to carry the women away, their legs too weak to walk after a merciless barrage of intense orgasms.

  Of course, I don’t need to tell Sloane all of those details. But when she asks me if I can do a better job of taking care of her needs, my answer is simple.

  “Yes,” I growl.

  She nods wordlessly, eyes wide, lips quivering.

  “Okay.” She looks at me expectantly. When I don’t move, she asks, “So, um…what do we do?”

  “You told me to stand down. Now my psychological conditioning won’t allow me to touch you until you have given me explicit permission.”

  I sense the wave of heat that suddenly emanates from her body.

  “All right,” she whispers at last. “You have permission to touch me.”

  My hands feel like they have been freed from shackles. They reach out and grab Sloane’s body, pulling her close to mine. She gasps as my naked erection presses against her smooth belly.

  I turn her around again, her back pressed to my front, and my hands start to rove, caressing her smooth arms, squeezing her perfect breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt.

  “Where do you need me to touch you?”

  My breath at her ear makes her shiver. She moans lightly as I tweak her erect nipples through her shirt.

  “You know where,” she hisses.

  I use my purring voice. The one that induces the necessary state of receptivity in a female.

  “Say it. Tell me where you need me to touch you. Say it out loud.”

  She whines and squirms in my grasp, grinding her tight little butt against my hard cock.

  “My pussy,” she breathes. “I need you to touch my pussy.”

  Still keeping one breast clasped tight, I allow my other hand to slide down her body, down her abdomen, and lower still, fingers parting her fine, closely cropped pubic hair until my fingertips find the ridge and fleshy hood of her clitoris.

  “Oh fuck,” Sloane moans in a trembling voice.

  “You want me to help you.”

  “Yes…”

  She whimpers and leans her head against my chest as I pull back her hood and touch the round pearl of her clit underneath. She squirms against me, her tush rolling against my painfully hard erection. More precum dribbles from my tip and runs down my shaft, wetting her cheeks and cleft.

  “Does that feel good?” I murmur, still clutching her firm, warm breast as I circle her sensitive nubbin down below. “Do you like it when I touch you there?”

  “Mm-hm,” she whines as she writhes against me.

  I try to tell myself that I’m just doing what is necessary. I’m performing a required task, and nothing more. But the way that her wild body responds to my touch excites me in ways I’ve never felt before.

  Her body is so sensitive, so responsive.

  “Dog,” she sighs, her voice soft and dreamy. “You’re so hard.”

  She’s right. My painful erection is so hard it feels like it could break. The skin of my swollen, pulsating member is stretched so tight it seems to be in danger of splitting open. I need to find my own release while helping Sloane with hers.

  Perhaps we can help each other.

  I push her shorts farther down her legs until they drop to the floor. Now she is completely nude except for her black combat boots and the dog tag necklace hanging between her luscious breasts. There’s something about that look that is unbelievably kinky and hot.

  I maneuver my hips to slip the hot stone rod of my cock between the soft gap of her thighs, which are drenched with her intense arousal. I rock my pelvis slowly, sliding the top side of my shaft against her slippery vulva. Sloane tilts her head down to look at the head of my dick protruding between her legs.

  “So big,” she whimpers, almost fearfully.

  She’s right to be fearful. Without Dr. Frostgrave’s special relaxant serum, she would never be able to accept me inside of her. Not yet, anyway.

  If I tried to penetrate Sloane now, I would damage her.

  That just means we’ll have to use each other’s bodies in other ways.

  Sloane reaches down and cups my cockhead, wetting her palm with my sticky precum. She smears the fluid upward, mingling it with her own rich juices and providing additional lubrication for my fingers on her clit. She rocks her hips, matching my rhythm as she grinds her soft vulva against my engorged and straining pole.

  “Dog,” she whispers. “Oh God, I’m so horny, I can’t…”

  Her voice is weak and ragged with desperation. Her muscles twitch and tremble, and I clutch one of her breasts tightly to keep her steady. My fingers grind against the berry of her clit, so ripe with arousal it feels like it might pop.

  “Show me how you come,” I whisper with my lips pressed to her ear. “I want to see how you fall to pieces.”

  Like a good little omega, Sloane obeys my command.

  I clap my hand over her mouth to stifle her throaty scream of pleasure. Her muscles shudder and her hips buck wildly as an intense orgasm wracks her helpless little body. Her arms flail, seeking purchase on something, anything, and finally finding my arms. Her nails bite into me so hard she draws blood.

  The sight and feel and smell of her coming in the moonlit dimness is so beautiful and intense that my cock spurts one long rope of semen, painting a pale line on the nearby wall.

  But immediately, something cinches inside me, stopping any additional spillage. The denied release is excruciating. Being wounded in battle doesn’t even compare to this.

  Fool, that animal voice growls inside my skull. Don’t waste it. Your seed is for the omega. It belongs inside her, in her cunt, in her belly.

  I work through my pain, continually strumming Sloane’s clit as she climaxes again and again, one orgasm rolling into the next like hard ocean surf crashing against a beach in those antique movies I’ve seen.

  With her mouth covered, Sloane moans and whines through her nose. Her fingers loosen their grip on my flesh and pat frantically at my shoulders. She’s tapping out—begging for me to stop.

  But I don’t relent.

  I need to cleanse her body of all desire. I need to wring every last ounce of pleasure from her body until her estrus subsides, at least temporarily. It’s the only way.

  As I continue rubbing her mercilessly, Sloane’s body convulses with forced pleasure. Hot, thick excretions of cervical fluid spill from her hole, coating my achingly hard cock. Her toes curl and her eyes roll feverishly in their sockets.

  At last, after several minutes, Sloane’s naked body goes slack in my arms, half-unconscious with exhaustion and pleasure.

  When I take my hand away from her mouth, all that comes out are incoherent syllables. A bit of drool dribbles from the corner of her lips, and her eyes are dazed and dreamy.

  I set her limply on the floor, propping her agains
t the wall. Her perfect, feminine curves are striped with moonlight and shadows. Her head lolls a moment, then she looks at me expectantly. Her eyes trace downward from my face, down my torso, before pausing between my legs where my hard cock is bouncing with my racing pulse.

  The wings of her nostrils flare slightly as she sniffs, and she turns her head toward my one spurt of semen, which dripping down the wall.

  “You didn’t finish,” she whispers.

  Regaining some of her strength, she rises to her knees in front of me.

  “Sloane,” I warn her, “Be careful…”

  Steadying herself with one hand against my thigh, she grips my shaft in her other hand and leans in, brushing the tip against her lips and glossing them with my fluid.

  Something dark and animalistic is rising up inside me. The beast voice is howling to claim her mouth with my cock. I caution her one last time.

  “Sloane, If you get the beast inside me riled up, I won’t be able to hold back.”

  “Then don’t.”

  She parts her lips and slides my throbbing cockhead inside.

  CHAPTER 10: SLOANE

  The head of Dog’s cock is plump and supple in my mouth. I suck it gently, and something dribbles onto my tongue, warm and intensely salty. Wincing, I pull back, and a silver thread of sticky fluid bridges from his cock to my lips.

  “Sloane,” he purrs above me.

  His body is trembling with barely restrained animal lust. He’s already tried to warn me about his animal urges.

  But I have urges too.

  “I want to taste you,” I whisper, “I need to taste you.”

  My tongue flickers out, swirling around his blunt head. I brush my lips along his throbbing shaft, exploring with my tongue as I go, tracing every ridge and pulsing vein, and searching for his most sensitive places.

  When I tease the sexy little V on the underside where his head meets his shaft, I know I’ve struck gold.

  Dog grunts, and more of that viscous fluid spills from his tip onto my tongue. This time I’m prepared for it, and I savor its intense flavor.

  “Good,” Dog groans above me. “So good…”

  His massive hands smooth over my close cropped hair. He cups the back of my head, urging me forward. I open my jaw wider and take him deeper. His hard cock is smooth and warm in my mouth. I feel the pulse of his lifeblood against my tongue.