I’m panting, gasping, licking at my fingers like it’s his cock as I glance back around the corner. I want to take him deep in my mouth so I can get that zing of coffee-flavored cum and make all my omega dreams come true.
Or, almost all of them, because there’s a lavender-scented alpha out there I want to taste as well.
I don’t want to finger myself. I want to leave myself craving as a punishment for doing this to him. Yeah, maybe it’s not really my fault my slick fell in the pan, but he doesn’t deserve to be stuck in a position where he’s grunting and rutting like a sexy beast. Because what does it mean for us? If he’s reacting like that, then maybe it would take a nudge, or two, or maybe three for him to realize we’re scent matches.
If I could get in front of the oven and replace his hand with my mouth, he could nudge his cock in and out as many times as he needs for him to see me.
Timber lets out a shout, and I glance back around the wall. My palm falls, and I jolt as a thick stream of cum shoots from his cock and hits the oven, and he moans so loudly that a lightning bolt fires into my body.
My thighs spasm, and I pull them in close as I speed up my strokes. I’m nearly there.
I just want Timber to suck on my nipples or my clit or touch me with his huge hands.
Even watching him scrabble around trying to clean up in a panic is too much. My eyes roll as my orgasm rips through me, and my legs shudder right there on the floor.
I bite my lip, praying to the God of Orgasms that I can shut the fuck up so the 200 lb hockey player doesn’t storm around the corner and see I’m really an omega gasping for his cock.
Everything I've done to balance out my gender and designation so no one can label me, and look at me.
But it’s too good, it’s so right, and the smallest groan rumbles in the base of my throat as I keep pushing even when it’s too sensitive. I need the ache. I want the pain as well as the pleasure.
All the stuff about him finding me is just talk, because the post-nut clarity is real. And I need to get out of here.
Or I could give in to my desires and go out there and spread my slick over his lips and send him into a rut. One fuck would be enough, just to calm down my omega side and get me to a more stable place where I can focus on my job and not how much I want his big, thick cock to ram me until I scream.
Timber
Carys watches me from the passenger seat as we cruise along the highway.
“Are you going to say anything, or are you going to keep staring at me?” I ask.
“It’s just… um…” She twists her lips, and a faint blush stains her cheeks. “You smell like an omega.”
There’s a pause between us as my eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”I snap my head to look at her, and she smirks, which instantly makes me pull back.
Carys is one of those special people in my life who’s seen me at my worst and still wants to be around me for some godawful reason.
She was a teen when Kane broke my nose, and I left my wife. As the assistant coach’s daughter, it doesn’t mean she was immune to the shit I put the team through when I was trying to deal with it all. She’s more of an outlier because she came to the rink after school at the end of our practices. She and the other team members who endured me are why I kept playing, even when I lost my position for a year and almost never got it back.
I tried to hide it from her when she was younger, but I was so wrapped up in myself that it was obvious what was going on. Now I want to be someone she can rely on, even if it’s just giving her a ride to the rink.
“I know your sense of smell has been messed up for a long time, but can you seriously not scent that at all?” She gives me a pointed look, as if I’ve done something wrong.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. What does it smell like?” I double-cleaned myself up after my adventure this morning.
Her nostrils flare as she takes a breath, and her blush deepens.
“Maple syrup,” she murmurs, and my heart plunges.
I suddenly need to get to the rink ASAP and shower off anything that’s left on me. It’s strange, but I don’t want any of the other guys to scent it. It’s the first thing I’ve smelled and tasted in years, and it belongs to me. No one else is having it.
“It’s more than just you, though. I’m pretty sure I can smell older perfume in the car, too. Are you really not hooking up with someone? Or did Marilyn set you up? Dad mentioned she’s been on a war path these last months with all of you.”
“No, though I heard she’s got her sights set on Rhett and Paxton,” I say casually, repeating what Thorne said at practice the other day. He’s worried he and Silas are on her hit list as well.
We don’t know how wide Marilyn is going to cast her net. Would she only focus on packing all of us up? Some of the staff had been pulled into her schemes as well, so there’s tension floating around the rink from every department.
Glancing at Carys, I grit my teeth. If Marilyn ever ropes her into her plans, it won’t just be Ares who’ll kick off. Even though Carys is an adult, she’s like a little sister to the team. Marilyn should know we won’t let her play with Carys and her future.
