Trinity (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 1)

by Serena Akeroyd

  It was too early for thoughts of that nature. Hell, she had her own cherry to pop before they got to that stage, but still... as she'd predicted a time where she would have three mates, she knew her males would do more than grace her with their attention.

  Rafe's gentleness was appreciated. Even the She-Wolf basked in his tenderness. There were times when she'd want him to be rough, when she'd want him to fuck her, but now wasn't one of them.

  Even though he was her mate, created for her, she was nervous.

  His hesitance in accepting her had made her doubt her own appeal. But, she could sense he found her attractive. His touches were fleeting, shy. She could scent his arousal, and her core butted against his covered shaft. They were enough to make the doubts flutter away.

  He kissed her as though they had all the time in the world. Taking sips of her lips, licking the rim of her mouth with fluttering, teasing laps that had her tongue lunging forward to parry with his.

  But he wouldn't let her. Every time she tried, his would flicker away, returning to the maddening licks that scored the tender flesh of her inner lip. That part of her was so sensitive, so much more than she even realized.

  Her tremors made themselves known to him, and he slid his hands, the palms free from calluses and as soft as a baby's along the length of her spine, pulling her closer to him.

  "If that's to make me stop trembling, you're only going to make it worse," she teased around a panting breath.

  He just smiled, and feeling it against her mouth had something sighing inside of her.

  Oh Gods, she had a mate!

  Fuck, how had this shitty day turned out so well?

  When he finally slipped his tongue between her lips, gently stroking hers, before lapping against the roof of her mouth, she realized how he was in control here. She hadn't expected that, but then she hadn't expected a stacked Gamma doctor for a mate.

  When she'd sensed the Gamma females, her She-Wolf had grumbled at being in their presence. The human had tempered that dislike, but the wolf wouldn't be controlled totally. She'd felt uneasy in the presence of what she viewed as weakness. Frailty. That unease was why the Gammas were overlooked, forgotten. For stronger Lyken, it was discomforting to be around someone lacking that inner core of power. It was strange, then, how her bitch felt nothing but pleasure to be in Rafe's hands and in Rafe's care.

  He pulled away to dot small kisses on her nose, her chin, before bending and running his tongue along her collarbone. Her hands crept up and she ran her fingers through his hair. The crisp silk created a welter of sensation that shot from the sensitive pads of her fingers all the way to her core.

  She lowered her hips, sinking down on to his thigh and letting her pussy rub against the cool wool blend of his pants—it was unhygienic and a nasty way to spoil eight-hundred dollar trousers, but sweet Gods, she needed more. Another shudder ran down her spine, chased by more gooseflesh as his mouth reached her breast.

  He peppered more kisses there, teasing her, making her arch her back trying to get him to take her nipple in his mouth. A high-pitched whimper escaped her as his lips finally tugged at the bud, and the whimper turned into a mewl as he raked his teeth against it.

  She grabbed one of his hands, tugged it away from its resting position against her waist, and slid it down between her legs even as she created a gap by lifting up bare inches so he could touch her. She was surprised when he let her, but she felt the slight jerks of his shaft as he controlled his arousal.

  Thalia sensed he was holding back, she could feel it in the control he was exerting, a control so fierce that his jaw was like stone, and his coffee-colored eyes had turned a cold, flat brown. But tucked away in their depths, was a glorious amber flame. His Wolf called to hers in that moment, and in a gesture so natural that its meaning passed over her, its significance utterly insignificant, her head fell back, baring her throat.

  He rewarded the trust inherent in the submissive move by releasing her nipple and licking along the sinews she'd exposed. Gentle kisses, the slight rake of stubble against the tender flesh. The fingers he'd curled between her legs started to move. He was careful at first, then, when she began to rock her hips as he explored her clit, the clinging pussy lips, his touch grew rougher.

  She moaned as he slid a finger around the rim of her pussy, the part that would soon take more than just a finger. All thoughts of returning to the palace, of losing her virginity in her own bed had fled as soon as he'd touched her intimately.

  The location didn't matter; she just needed his touch. Needed him more than she needed to come, even.

  That teasing, taunting finger kept her on edge, and when he slipped the tip inside, she grunted and jerked her hips down, making him slide deeper. He gently thrust, moving around in a way that she recognized as his trying to stretch her. She shivered when he added another and did the same, this time scissoring the pair inside her. A grunt was her reply to a third finger, as the small entrance protested such fullness.

  It was stupid to feel nervous, stupid because every single woman had to go through this. Experience the slight pain, know that feeling of being invaded, but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding a little harder.

  Thalia moved closer to him, let her chest brush his, her nipples poking into his torso as his did hers. When he gently bit down against the side of her throat, she cried out. It was a parody of the mating bite, but still, it had her She-Wolf unraveling. Submitting to the man who would make her a woman in more sense than just age.

  He whispered against her throat, "Unzip my fly, Thalia."

  His order made her hips still, knowing the time had come and both longing for and dreading it. Her hands fumbled between them, and she pulled her throat away from his mouth so she could look down.

  This wasn't the first cock she'd seen; before her exile, when there had been a gathering, she'd seen a few males with erections. It was a natural part of the after-shift. Like morning wood. But this was the first time she'd seen her mate's hard-on, and feeling like a kid at Christmas unwrapping her presents and reveling in the anticipation of the moment, she freed him from the cage of his fly.

  When the head butted out, an angry red, weeping opaque liquid, she groaned. Not only was the sight enthralling, he wasn't wearing underwear! It wasn't entirely unusual, even in the lower ranks, Lykens preferred the least amount of clothing possible, but still, it did something to her already writhing insides.

  The sight of those slick droplets of cum had her mouth watering, but it was nothing to how her bitch reacted. For a few seconds, she literally struggled with her, with the need to shift. It powered down her senses, overtaking all five and putting her firmly in the She-Wolf's control.

  Rafe must have sensed something was wrong, because his hand tipped up her chin and he stared at her. What he saw both shocked and turned him on.

  She could only guess what he was looking at. Her eyes had probably shifted; something that might be common in paranormal books, but was actually rare in real life. It took a huge welter of energy to hover between the two forms.

  She could feel it sapping at her, draining her, and only that stopped her bitch. The wolf realized Thalia would be passing out from the energy drought before she could be fucked, at long last, by her mate.

  His eyelids drooped, adding a heavy cast to his features. She could tell that the slight shift had pleased him, stroked his ego, and considering his earlier reaction to her, his nerves at being her mate, she was more than willing to shore up his inadequacies and make him realize how perfect they were together.

  Because she knew they would be. She knew it like she knew her hair was blonde and her blood type was G negative.

  Her eyes flickered away from his to stare down at his hard-on again. She licked her lips, wanting to taste but needing him to claim her more. Her hands fumbled with the next button topping his fly. It popped off thanks to her shaking hands, pinging as it bounced off the tiled floor.

  "I know these pants are expensive, but I don�
�t care," she mumbled absentmindedly, her palms already tingling with the promise of how his shaft would feel against them.

  "What’s a thousand dollars between mates?"

  That grabbed her attention—he could afford tailors. When her mouth dropped open, agape, bewildered by a Gamma commanding such wealth, he chuckled and flexed his fingers deep inside her. That shattered any thoughts of position, ranking, or tailoring, and her head fell back, rolling on her shoulders even as her fingers reached for his cock and she tugged him free from the fabric prison.

  He was thick, filling her hand to over bursting. Curiosity drove her to add some starch to her spine and to look down. Her second glimpse of his long, thick shaft was worth it.

  She marveled in the shiny tip, the thick ridge of skin around the head, and the veins that roped around the length.

  As every virgin probably did, inwardly, she panicked, certain he wouldn't fit. Her hand clamped down in reaction, triggering a groan in him. That groan eased her somewhat. Reminded her of how careful he'd been with her, how gentle.

  There was no reason he wouldn't continue to be.

  She sucked in a breath, and whispered, "You're beautiful."

  "I think you're the first woman to ever compliment a guy's dick that way."

  His joke had her eyes clashing with his. For a second, she wavered between embarrassment and amusement. Laughter was her response, and she dropped her mouth to his for a quick kiss.

  "You should be grateful I think it's pretty."

  With his free hand, he gripped himself and looked down at his cock. She did the same. "You hear that, Champ. You're pretty."

  A chuckle burst free from her at his mockery, but looking at their hands both clutching him had something inside her sighing with delight.

  This wasn't going how she'd imagined, and she was thrilled that was the case.

  "Thank you, Rafe," she murmured, but he just grinned.

  "You're thanking me?" He shook his head. "I'm the one who's blessed."

  "I think pretty boy needs some attention," she whispered, eyes flickering down to his throbbing cock.

  "I'm just going to sit here, Thalia. Let you do all the work."

  She was both amused by that, and nervous. "Lazy bones," she murmured, and sucked in a breath. "What if I can't do it?"

  His fingers moved to caress her clit, then slipped down to slide among the juices that he'd urged out of her. And it was him. Without her mates, she'd had the need to come during her heats, but the resulting orgasms were... bland. Hardly a release at all.

  She was wetter now than she'd ever been, and her eyes widened when his drenched fingers moved away from her sex, and headed for his mouth. He licked them clean, sucked them off in a way that had her gluing her gaze to his tongue and lips. She started to pant as he returned his now clean—well, cleanish—fingers back to her sex. Her head flew back and her hips jerked as he rubbed her clit again, letting his fingers pass through the moisture once more.

  "Look at me, Thalia," he ordered, and she urged her body into compliance. She stared at him through dazed eyes, and whimpered when those sopping wet fingers moved to her lips and painted around the curves as though he were coloring in the lines.

  She shuddered, unsure of what to do. Her lips felt heavy with the moisture, almost like they didn't belong to her.

  "Taste yourself," he commanded, and her tongue peeked out to wipe along her bottom lip.

  His groan at her hesitant obeisance sent sparks of electricity through her body, and her butt rocked backward, her stomach muscles clenching as it seemed to resonate deeply inside her. That groan telling her how hot he found her, how she pleased him.

  And Thalia wanted nothing more than to please this man as much as he pleased her.

  "Just take your time," he said, his voice so low and hoarse it was a whisper. "You're wet enough to handle this."

  She swallowed, nodded, and reached for his cock again. Her thumb swiped over the slick tip, and hearing his hiss, she bit her lip and concentrated on moving her leg so she straddled both of his rather than just the one.

  The position parted her pussy lips. That slight spreading sensation somehow felt like fingers slipping down over the channel and she hummed in pleasure. It was a cue, one that led to the next phase of their claiming. She grabbed his shaft harder, blew out a breath and prayed for good luck, then rubbed it against her clit. She did it once, then twice, then groaned.

  Fuck! That felt so good. She concentrated on rubbing the little nubbin with the head of his dick, reveling in the knowledge that his pre-cum was slipping over her pussy, marking her with his scent.

  Her hips rocked back and forth as she worked the pair of them for all their worth. The sounds of their panting breaths melded in the crappy motel room. Traffic from outside, guests from either side of their room interrupted the peace but she could only concentrate on his tortured grunts and her mewls as she tried to get enough oxygen into her lungs to stay alive.

  "Anytime soon, princess," he groaned out, using her title as a term of endearment. She could sense the difference, even as unfocused as she was.

  She moaned a little, whimpering as the need for more overwhelmed her past her earlier hesitance. Sliding his shaft down to the gate of her body, she sucked in a breath at the alien pressure. A tremble rocked her as she tried to lodge the head inside and it wouldn't fit.

  She tried wiggling her hips, tried forcing it in, shoving it inside, but it wouldn't work. Her panting breaths were no longer of pleasure but of frustration.

  "Help, please!" she cried out. It hurt to be so high, to be so close to toppling over into a release she'd been needing for years, only to fall at the final hurdle.

  His hands, soft, warm and gentle, cupped her face and he brought their foreheads together, so their breaths brushed the other's lips.

  "Calm down, baby. We have all day."

  Considering his cock was literally pulsing in her palm, she knew he was exaggerating for her benefit. Still, his soothing words calmed her down a little.

  Even as her mind shrieked, All fucking day?

  She’d die. There was no way she could wait all day. She’d burst into a thousand pieces, and she really couldn’t afford to explode. Apparently, she had some saving-the-Lyken-world shit to do, and expiring of sexual frustration just couldn’t be on the Mother’s bucket list of things she had to do before she died.

  "You're too big," she complained with a huff. "It won't fit."

  "Do you want me to take over?" he murmured, brushing his mouth against hers, his teeth nipping her bottom lip, tugging it.

  Something in his voice, a slight deepening told her he'd meant for this to happen. He'd wanted to take control but had manipulated the end result rather than act on his feelings.

  She glared at her passive-aggressive mate, then yipped when he bit down on her lower lip. Hard enough to hurt. "Do it!" she demanded when he released her, and grunted as he grinned, realizing she'd caught on to his game.

  In a smooth move, he grabbed her hips, then holding her close to him, he rolled up and forward, gliding her to a supine position where he was above her, looming down with an intense look on his face.

  She’d almost accept his manipulation for that greedy, ravenous look alone.

  It made her feel needy. And this position, even though it was submissive, made her feel hotter. She needed him to take control, her She-Wolf did, too.

  Now on her back, he moved her legs away from his hips so they no longer clutched him. "Keep them pinned to the floor," he ordered, spreading them wide enough that the muscles of her inner thighs complained.

  She watched him look at her pussy, at the parted folds, at the glistening flesh, and felt his hunger as though it were her own.

  He just stared at her cunt, licking his lips as it pulsed with need.

  At that moment, he looked like a conqueror; like he was there to stake his claim, take his rightful prize.

  The fanciful thought had her back arching, and while her eyes were closed,
he pounced.

  His cock was suddenly there, a burning brand at her cunt, and he thrust deep.

  Her eyes widened as pain blasted through her with his deep penetration. She didn't moan, or yelp, even though it hurt. The feel of him there, so close to her, connected, linked in a union of their bodies, more than made up for the ache. But Gods, it stung.

  He paused, let her acclimate to his shaft. And boy, did she need that time. She felt stretched. Kind of torn apart, only in a good way, which was weird as hell.

  The virginal tissues were preening with delight at finally being ravished by her mate. Her arousal had wavered, but now, as she grew used to the stretch, everything inside started to burn brightly again.

  And then, he moved.

  "Sweet Gods!" she cried out, her voice breaking as he started to thrust. Keeping his hips close to hers, he only moved an inch or so, but that concentrated area, the feeling of being deeply connected to him, made her feel on fire.

  Her eyes wouldn't work, couldn't focus. She had to force them to obey, and when she did, she was glad she'd taken the time.

  He was looking at their joined bodies. At his cock, ruddy-purple with his need, slamming into the part of her that had been made for him.

  The deeply intent look twisted her inside out. His need to stamp his mark on her, to make her his, fucked with her mind, and when his fingers came to tweak the little nub that had caused her no end of frustration when she herself had jerked off, but seemed to purr at his touch, she was done.

  No mistake about it.

  With those caressing fingers, he detonated her senses. Sending every one of them into shutdown mode. But his thrusts weren’t letting her drift off into the wonder of what he was making her feel. They kept her there, on edge. Making her aware of the abyss in front of her, while keeping her toppling on the brink of discovering more.

  Deep and slow, he moved. Then hard and fast. He slipped between motions, shoring her up, driving her insane with the lack of rhythm. She was so close. So close. All she wanted was to fly. To soar, but Gods damn him, he wasn’t letting her.