It’s been a goddamned week! I’m fuming, and so fucking angry. My omega is extremely lucky I can’t find him. Otherwise, his ass would be bright red from my hand spanking it while Alaric fucks his face.
Mmmm. Together, we could edge him for hours.
As it is, I’m losing my mind. I’m worried my omega is actually hurt, and have been regularly hacking into the hospital websites to check for his name.
I’m not sure how to feel when there are no records of him being in the hospital. All I can imagine this means is that he’s fine. Why is he hiding from us?
I have so many questions, and none of them have answers.
I found where he lives, and he hasn’t been there in days. Beckham lives with his father, which means I have to be very careful when I drive through the area. I can’t get caught.
There are too many rules and restrictions clawing at me, and it’s making me want to do something reckless. I’ve been picking up more fights, worrying my dad as I beat the fuck out of everyone in the ring. My anger knows no bounds right now.
Alaric keeps telling me that we need to be patient, but that’s just a front. Jamie’s asshole and mine are red and swollen from the amount of aggression our alpha has, and as I lick my lips, I can feel how puffy they are from Jamie face fucking me this morning.
Something has to give. None of us are coping well. There’s only so much that we can take.
I hate that he’s taking the knowledge of our scent matching so badly. I know he enjoys teaching, but he hasn’t been to the school either. There’s a substitute teacher taking over his classes, stating that the professor is taking some time off to handle some things. There are whispers of a mental health breakdown, and that worries me.
It makes me want to scream ‘what things’? We aren’t going to simply disappear or stop being his scent matches. He could reject us, and we’d still never stop searching him out. We’ve been obsessed since the first day we saw him.
There’s no take-backs. He will be ours, I just need to figure out what put that fear in his blue eyes. That wasn’t natural, and I have a feeling it wasn’t personal. It still never fails to hurt though when I remember the haunted look in his gaze.
Sitting across from a motel, I blow out a breath in frustration. Beckham used his credit card near here twenty minutes ago, so I am systematically checking the entire area before I head home. I refuse to go back until I find something.
Parking my bike, I rub my chest as it fucking aches with pain. I just need to see his face, smell his scent. Anything to remind me that he’s ours.
Climbing off, I set my helmet on the seat, looking around. This is a shit part of town, and I want to shudder as I think about the filth that might be staying here.
Leaving my bike across the street to maintain my anonymity, I cross the street into the parking lot. There are a lot of run down vehicles here, along with a mix of fancy cars. I bet that people can rent rooms by the hour here too.
Opening the door to the front lobby, I struggle not to wrinkle my nose at the large beta behind the desk gazing down at his phone. One of his hands is hidden from view, and I have a feeling he might be stroking himself.
I’m all for self care, but this is a little much.
Clearing my throat, I gaze down at the man who is in fact watching porn. I can hear the obnoxious moans and wails as multiple people get railed on his screen in front of him.
“Yeah?” He grunts, his eyes flicking up at me. “I don’t have any rooms, and I’m a little busy here.”
I’m not sure if he’s telling me the truth, or if he’s lying so that he can finish fucking his tiny dick with his fist. Either way, I’m very unhappy with his answer.
Rolling my eyes, I pull out some money and peel off two hundred dollar bills and place them on the counter.
“I’m looking for someone.” I grunt, tracking his gaze as he glances at the money and then at me.
“Look harder,” he mutters. “I told you I’m busy. Do you mind? I need some privacy.”
This motherfucker…
Putting my money away slowly, including what’s on the counter, I pull my gun out and point it at his lap.
“I think you’re done, don’t you?” I ask, turning off the safety. My finger hovers over the trigger while I raise my brow in question. “I need to find an omega that might be staying here. Are you going to help me or scream like a bitch without his cock when I shoot you? I suggest you think really hard about that.”
“Fuck,” the beta complains, pulling out his hand. There’s a white substance all over it, showing that he’s already come. Gross. “I was trying to compete for an award.”
“Do it on your own time.” I sneer, watching as he pulls out wet wipes to clean up his hand and turns off the porn. “Do you want the guy’s description or not?”
“Is he cheating on your sister or something?” The beta snorts. “Most of the guys here are fucking a prostitute.”
