I should start wearing underwear again…
But, I mean, he asked for it, didn’t he? It’s not like it would be out of nowhere, right? I’m not technically manipulating him if he asked in a half-conscious state and he won’t remember after he’s had a shower.
My logic is flawless.
I groan as I shove my hand down my pants, guilt burning inside me. The second my fingers brush my pussy, a moan trembles from me.
I angle my hips, reaching further, pressing two fingers between my pussy lips to feel just how much slick has built up.
“Fuck,” I whimper as I stroke from my entrance up to my clit. “Timber.”
The harder I come, the more potent my slick will be for him. I’m not putting slick in his oatmeal, so why the hell am I still stroking myself?
Because it feels sogood, and my pussy aches with need. I’m already hot, and my clit is swollen just from his touch. I’m twitching inside and out because I need my alpha back here. Even if he just holds me as I bend myself over the stove and as I keep stroking and nothing else, it would be enough to light me up.
He could have gone further, pulling away my scarf and turtleneck to reveal my bare skin. I want him to growl when he sees the hickey, to get so turned on by me and Kane that he can’t help but sink his cock deep and dig his teeth into my neck as he shows me who my alpha is.
I cry out as my pleasure rushes through me. My hips curve, my mouth opens as the steam from the oatmeal swirls around me as I come. I silently call Timber’s name as it grows inside me.
I just want my alpha.
It peaks, and I shudder as a rush of warmth coats my hand as more thick slick drips from me. I whimper as my legs shake, because even the quickest orgasm with the echo of Timber's touch on my body is better than anything I've done to myself since I was with Kane.
My alpha told me to keep his cum inside me, but I cleaned myself yesterday just in case. Now I hope I’ve missed some.
I pull out my hand, swallowing nervously at the sight of my slick-coated fingers as my scent radiates from them.
If I was a normal person, I would never have let it go so far. But nothing about this situation has ever been ‘normal’.
With my hand between the pot and my body, I attempt to sort my stupid omega side out that’s rumbling with pride. I’m flushing while my common sense tells me to back the hell away.
I’m see-sawing between them both when my common sense wins. As the bathroom door opens, and Timber treads around upstairs, fear shoots through me. I swipe a dish towel from beside the pot to wipe my fingers in a panic before staring at it numbly.
“Seriously?” I hiss. Out of all the things I could have done…
I look mournfully at the sink that could have easily washed my slick away, but alas, no. That would have been too simple.
Why don’t I ever think before doing dumb shit like this? I already know he wouldn't have seen me from up there.
I sigh as I ring my hand dry with the dish towel, getting every last speck of slick, groaning as I grab the empty oatmeal bag and stuff it inside. I roll the top of the bag and pray it stays secure as I leap over to the trash can right next to the fridge. If the washing machine weren’t in the basement, I would have thrown it in, but I don’t want Timber to catch me and ask why I’m down there.
All I have to do is shove the dish towel so far into the trash that no one will ever find it. I shake the half-full can, making sure that all the trash covers it, and there’s no chance the oatmeal bag shows as I close the lid.
Even though Timber kind of technically maybe said he could smell my slick at the restaurant, he didn’t actually confirm it. So that’s officially going in the ‘don’t worry about it’ folder, and I’ll refuse to think about it again.
I’ll tell Timber I can’t recreate the taste even after all that nonsense about the special flavoring in the hot chocolate he basically licked from my lips, and take out the trash once he leaves for the rink. Then he’ll never find out how close I was to making our breakfast the middleman between his mouth and my pussy again.
Timber
“Hey!” Luke shouts from in front of the stove as I snatch a protein bar from the cupboard above the sink. He thinks I don’t know he’s hidden them there, even though all the cupboards are at my eye level. As if that’s enough to stop me.
He has no idea I come down at night to go snack hunting. He can barely reach the cupboards, so the box sits right at the front as well.
I grin as I jump away, tearing open the packet.
“You’ll suffer for that!” he shouts.
I stuff the whole thing in my mouth before he can snatch it, and he bursts out laughing.
