“Now, put two fingers inside yourself and gather some slick.” My sweet omega’s abdomen clenches, and she does as I say, rimming her hot little hole, coating her fingers in arousal. “Good fucking girl.”
Pleasure coils at the base of my spine, imagining smelling her intoxicating, lustful aroma, tasting the notes of her pheromones in the air. This is great, but I want so much more.Need so much more.
“Bring those fingers up and play with that pretty little clit.”
She moans, getting into it now, and the breathy sounds emanating from her lush lips are music to my ears. Her thumb rubs slow circles, toying with her clit, but not directly touching it. Building the pleasure until her hips gyrate, creasing her sheets. I follow her rhythm, pumping my cock slowly, getting faster as she does. Her back arches off the bed, and she lets outa cry of frustration. Red needs more, and I wish I were there to give it to her. To pin her hips down as I slam my giant Alpha cock into her little omega hole.
“Stop playing games. Use that thumb and press your clit. Flick it up and down.” The sound of my voice makes her mewl, and her legs shake as she does what I say. “Good girl, now pinch those nipples with the other hand. Don’t you let up on your clit. I wanna see you come.” She alternates between twisting those perfect peaks hard, letting out a tiny growl. She’s so close, panting with need as she chases her release. Slapping sounds join her moans as I jerk myself faster, squeezing with every up stroke and wishing for the tight, wet walls of her pussy.
“Soak your sheets for me. I want to see slick run down your legs and make a puddle in the middle of your bed. All for me. My omega. My slick. Come for me now,” I roar, and she screams, crying out, “88.” With my eyes glued to the screen watching the aftershocks take her, my balls draw up and pleasure shoots through me as rope after rope of sticky cum releases onto my abdomen. It’s filthy and so fucking hot. Yet somehow it barely satisfies me. Although I’ve come, it’s not enough.
We both pant in unison, our breathing attempting to synchronize even without being in the same room. And I can’t stop the rising tide of disappointment from crashing in on me.
Red should be here with me, taking my cum deep in her womb, being filled with my seed. At the very least, she should be lying onmybed as I rub my release into her skin. Unable to look away from the screen, I watch, mesmerized, while she lies there, legs wide, pussy clenching with emptiness. Her sides heave, her breasts jiggling as she gasps for air. After a moment, she sits up, a pretty smile on her face, black wig slightly askew. The dewy glow of her skin nearly makes me hard again.
Still breathless, she tells me that our time is nearly up, and I want to offer her more money. I want to do this repeatedly. Preferably in person, but I know that it’s time to let her go.
“Can we meet like this again soon?” I ask, sounding like a simp, but then again, maybe I am one. Or maybe I’m just a simp for her.
Red beams at me through the little camera, so clear it’s like I can almost touch her.
“I’d love that. Honestly, 88.” She blows me a kiss goodbye, but before she can sign off, I drop her another $400.
“For the best night of my life,” I explain. She stills, shock on her face.
“That’s too much. I’m not worth it,” she whispers, clutching a sheet to her chest.
“You are. You’re worth everything.” Tears fill her eyes, and she swallows hard.
“Thank you so much. You have no idea how much that money’s going to help me. Just… thank you.” With that final word, she signs off, and I’m left with an uneasy sensation in my gut at how badly she needs the money.
My heart thumps hard. The draw I feel toward her is inexplicable, and yet sweet and spicy raspberries niggle at the back of my mind. Is it possible to feel so much for more than one omega? Does that scent even belong to someone? After all, it was barely a wisp—just a tiny tinge that caught my attention. It could be anything. A perfume, a bakery item, even a freaking sorbet.
All I know is that it needs to be figured out soon.
What a pucking problem…
Chapter Nine
Nixie
“Mom, have I told you lately how much I love you?” Asher sing-songs from the back seat while we wait in the car.
The practice arena is straight ahead, and we have prime parking, seeing as we’re earlyfor once. I shake my head at his silly antics, but a chuckle escapes me as I watch him speak, his cheeks bulging with food.
This morning, he woke up at the crack of dawn, so eager to meet his mentor that I couldn’t keep him cooped up in the apartment a second longer. He begged on repeat for a deli sandwich, but those things are too damn expensive. With a bit of juggling, I made him a sausage, bacon, eggs, and cheese on a fluffy roll, and judging by the appreciative hum he’s making, it’s hitting the right spot. All I know is that it smells delicious. My stomach grumbles, wishing I’d had enough food to make myself one, but Asher’s a growing boy, and he needs the fuel, so Mommy will have to wait.
At least I’ve scrounged up enough money for my half of the bills and even the extra to cover his participation fee for theexhibition. I’m not thrilled about using my body to pay for our lives, but at least it’s behind a screen.
Keep telling yourself that.
“Buddy, we’ve got about five minutes and then it’s time to get in there, okay?” I glance at him in the rearview mirror. His eyes flick to mine, excitement glittering in their green depths. Asher nods, then digs in, eating with gigantic bites that boggle my mind. The boy may be part snake.
It’s the first day of exhibition practices, and they’re even having a special skate at the Scented Scorpions practice arena. It’s not where the professional team plays their games, but he’s still incredibly excited.
The practice is lengthy, around two hours, so I’m hoping to drop him off and then run to some local eateries to scrounge up a few more job applications. If I get lucky, maybe even an interview. It’s been a week since that dipshit got me fired from the diner, and I still haven’t found a new job. The only thing keeping us afloat is my camgirl hours. My subscriber list has grown steadily, and it’s often fun. But the stigma associated with it makes me nervous. Not to mention the potential for danger.
When I was a kid, I always hoped for a career, something creative, maybe, but definitely something professional. Unfortunately, getting pregnant at eighteen threw a real spanner into that plan. I never finished high school, and college was certainly not in the cards for me with a young baby and no support.
