“Getting off suppressants is no joke, plus I offered to scent mark you anyway. It’s a start. Really, Cami, it’s not a big deal.”
It’s not a big deal to you, big man with no first name who I know nothing about, but you seem to know extremely personal details about me. As I sit on the bed, staring at him, I feel inferior and weak. I shouldn’t need an Alpha to make me feel safe. I should just be able to take care of myself. But when I think about last night and how heady that moment felt, hell, if I don’t want to fake a fever to make him hold me longer.
He looks so different without his hat on, less serious. His hair is a little messy as one side hangs over his forehead and the other is tucked behind his ear. I want to run my fingers through it.
He scratches his beard and stretches. “You slept for nearly two days. Do you want to cancel the D.C. show?”
“I can’t,” I say, looking away from him.
“You can. If you’re not feeling up to it, your fans would understand.”
“I can’t do it. I’ll figure out how to get through it. We can head out after I take a shower. The show is tomorrow night, but I hate traveling and then performing on the same day.”
He groans. “Well then, here. You can wear this after,” he says as he grabs the collar of his hoodie, lifting it over his head. The hoodie clings to his shirt and I get the most glorious view of his happy trail and cut abs. I never gave much thought to the term happy trail or how sexy chest hair is on a man, but it’s making more sense right now. Damn, he’s ripped. I’ve worked out with Smith and I know he cares about his body, but I hardly ever get to see much of his skin.
I hinge my jaw back onto my face as he hands me the hoodie and stands up. “For scent marking, maybe it will help?”
With my hands gripping the garment, I bring it to my nose. He’s not wrong. His scent centers me. Is it because he is an Alpha and my body is desperately begging to be claimed, or is it something else?
“You need anything?” he asks me.
I shake my head no and he leaves the room. As soon as he leaves, I sniff his sweatshirt one more time before I dig into my bag and find my vibrator, bringing it in the shower with me.
I nearly sprint to the bathroom. I undress and stand under the shower head even, hoping the cold water will knock some sense into me. The spray splatters across my heated chest and the temperature makes me gasp and moan at the same time. I had hoped the cold water would help tamper down my need. It just made it worse. I can’t stop thinking about the larger than life Alpha that lay in bed with me last night. The way my head rested on his impressive chest and how his scent made me want to climb and ride him.
With one hand against the shower wall, I slide the other down to my pussy. I knew I was going to be wet. His scent, his huge hands, seeing his abs. How is an Omega meant to control herself after that type of show? He may as well have been stroking himself with one hand and gripping his knot with the other with how turned on I felt looking at his bare stomach. I bet his cock would be just as veiny as his large forearms, the thought makes me lick my lips.
That imagery only gets more intense the more I think about it. I bet Smith is massive, just like the rest of him. His knot is probably huge and would make me feel so full. He would stroke himself and tell me I had to be a good girl if I wanted his cock. Only when I proved to him that I deserved it would he let me taste him. I can picture his hand wrapped around my throat as I take him as deep as possible. He tells me how much I’m pleasing him and how no one has ever sucked his dick as well as I can.
My fingers aren’t getting the job done. Frustrated, I place the vibrator against my clit and fuck myself with my fingers. Smith’s fingers are so large, I bet he would need to stretch me to accommodate him. I wonder how many he would want me to take. He would tell me I’m being so good for him. That I could do it, I could take more of his fingers, that my pussy was made for him and I’ll give him what he wants.
I want to please him, and I know if I’m good enough for him, he will make me come. He will protect me and make me feel so good. He will make me feel so full. No other Alpha but him. He’s all I need. Everything I could want, he can provide. Smith would moan against my ear as he fucked my pussy with his fingers and the sound alone would make me come all over his hand.
Smith would kiss my head and tell me how well I did for him, his little slut, but that it still isn’t enough. I need to be filled more. He would use his slick covered fingers to fill my mouth while he cradles my jaw as he fucks me relentlessly. So complete, I would be so fucking full. Our bodies would touch everywhere. I want the weight of him and the heat of his body as close as possible.
I want the fantasy to prolong, to get to the point of him knotting me, but just the idea of him fucking me at all sends me over the edge as I climax, ending my delusion far sooner than I wanted to. My legs wobble as I pant and stand, letting the water hit my body and swirl down the drain.
That escalated far more quickly in my head than I imagined. I feel a little guilty and overwhelmed at what I just did. Am I seeing Smith in this light because I actually have feelings for him? Or because now that I’m off suppressants the need for an Alpha is nearly all-consuming? It has to be the pheromones,right?There has been nothing sexual from our encounters, previously. I need to reign in these overwhelming urges and calm my horny Omega ass down.
After having an orgasm, I feel a little bit more relaxed. The edge isn’t completely off, but at least I’m not having thoughts of climbing my bodyguard and begging him to fuck me.
Smith is a professional. He could have tried anything last night, and he didn’t. Not even a little, to my dismay. We’re just friends. His sister is an Omega, giving him a basic understanding of the struggles that Omegas go through. He’s just being kind and helpful while I get myself through this difficult time.
I’m worried that my heat is going to hit me sooner than I expect now that I’m not medicated. Asking Smith to fuck me throughout my heat would be well beyond the bounds of professional courtesy. Even though I’m sure he’s great in bed, he wouldn’t be enough to keep me settled during my heat anyway. I need at least two Alphas. Three would be even better.
As much as it saddens me, I think we will need to cut the trip to Atlanta short. I need to get settled in New York as soon as possible and figure out if Heat Haven could work for me. If it doesn’t, I’m out of options.
I take care in putting on as many deodorizers as I have. I wear my scent blocking panties and cover any major sweat glands as I can. Smith’s hoodie stares at me while I get ready on the bed. Just knowing how comforting it will feel to have his scent wrapped around me, I give in and put it over my clothes and wear it like a dress.
The whiskey and sandalwood scent makes my erratic heartbeat calm down, and allows me to organize my thoughts. Maybe his idea of scent marking will enable me to at least make it to my heat… but what about after my heat?
D.C. was my worst show this entire tour and I feel like I’ve let my fans down. My heart just wasn’t in that show and I don’t think that it will be in this one either. This is the second to last performance, and I can’t wait to get to Atlanta. I need time to just be me and not have to constantly worry about performing and meeting standards of others. I just need a break. To collect myself and figure out what my next steps are going to be.
We’re backstage at the Charlotte show and all I want to do is crawl into a bed of pillows and quit this whole back-breaking tour. I’m overly emotional, too needy, and so goddamn horny. I haven’t had sex in months. How am I supposed to when the last people I had relations with completely made me never want to trust another person again? The idea of making myself vulnerable to someone again is terrifying.
Thinking about the pictures and how anxious and overwhelmed I am, I tear up. I try to wipe the tears away quickly to not mess up my makeup, but Smith sees them nonetheless.
Over-observant bastard.
