A double-ended vibrator hummed next to her knee, forgotten in the scuffle.
She wasn’t laughing anymore. Her breath came in frantic bursts as she tried to hold Skye down.
Skye was an omega, sure—but he wasn’t asmallone.
Compared to Violet, he looked massive. Broad shoulders, thick thighs, and arms roped with muscle. The only softness he had came from his pregnancy. His tattooed chest rose and fell beneath her, the swell of his 24-week belly brushing against Violet’s newly rounded one.
She looked up at me and smiled sweetly before lifting one hand and signing:
I keep him.
Skye whimpered beneath her. “Oh no, Serena… she’s too strong…”
Crossing my arms, I leaned against the doorframe and stared down at them.And thiswas why the sweet omega I’d hit with my car had turned into an unbelievable brat.
No one in this house had the ability to tell her no. But I wasn’t going to sacrifice my potential orgasm just to let her have fun.
“Skye,” I said calmly. “You have until I count to three to roll Violet over and get on top of her.”
Violet whipped her head toward me, mouth dropping open in silent outrage before her fingers flicked out:
He can’t. I win.
I arched a brow and held up a finger. “One.”
“What? No!” Skye squeaked. “I don’t want to hurt—”
“Two.”
Skye panicked, and then, very predictably for my sweet, eager-to-please omega, he obeyed.
Skye twisted his hips, braced a hand against the nest floor, and in one clumsy motion, flipped their positions. Violet gasped as her back hit a pile of stuffed animals, her nightgown riding up high enough to show off the swell of her stomach.
She was barely even pregnant–her first appointment was tomorrow–but it seemed like her body didn’t get that memo. Her stomach was already round enough that when Skye hovered over her, their bellies nearly touched.
Skye froze, eyes dropping to where her nightgown had ridden up.
“Aww,” he murmured, placing a hand on her stomach. “Look at the baby.”
Violet’s face glowed red as she huffed and tried to push Skye off. Unfortunately for her, he was much sturdier than he liked to pretend.
Skye blinked down at her as a wicked grin spread across his lips. He held her down like she was a feral kitten. With her wrists pinned, her signing was hindered, to say the least, but that didn’t stop her from spelling out:
L-E-T. M-E. G-O.
Skye’s head tipped to the side as he looked at me. “She’s being spicy, does she need punished?”
“Big time,” I said, stepping into the closet and shutting out the world. “Flip her over. Ass in the air, face in the pillows.”
Violet’s eyes went wide.
She shook her head furiously, clawing at Skye’s wrists. She kicked again and signed one-handed against his arm:
NO. NO. NO.
Which, of course, only encouraged us. Or, more specifically, him.
Skye got off of Violet, and she tried to scramble away, only for him to grab her and force her onto her knees. Kneeling behind him, I wrapped an arm around both of them and wrangled her into position. Her cheek hit the blush pink faux fur covering the nest’s main cushion. My hips bumped into Skye’s as I aligned the two of them perfectly.