Alric will probably rage about it in the end. Zachary and Hunter are too amazing not to have someone to channel that love into, but they’ll do it. Separating won’t be fun or easy at the end of this week, but eventually, they can learn to live without me, right?
Guess we’ll find out.
“Okay, until we get off the plane. A faux pack for my faux heat.”
Zachary and Hunter’s faces light up as if I’ve given them the greatest gift they’ve ever received.
Alric’s shoulders visibly relax for a moment before shifting into a determined posture. “What do you need?”
“Just sleep.” I hold the shirts to my chest. “Now that I have these, I feel better. If I need anything, I’ll ask.”
Sex would be amazing right now, but I’m emotionally drained from the past few hours, and I have my dildo if I need it.
“Promise?” Hunter asks skeptically.
“Promise.”
Chapter 12
Madi
They close the door behind them, and after a few more absurd inhales of their scent, I finally get ready for bed. My limbs are heavy and I skip most of my skincare. My prescription for the pain is in my bag and I take two pills, hoping it’s enough that I can sleep. My dildo is in its silk bag near my bathroom case. I slip it out and wash it, setting it down on the bedside table.
Something in my chest yearns for them to be closer, pulling me towards them, but I shove the sensation away.
Today was strange and awkward and life-changing in the worst way, for all of us. If I think about it too much, I’ll start crying again, so I ignore it. I picture the ocean; not the rough waves outside, but the peaceful beach I was promised, and think of nothing else till sleep mercifully slips me under.
Imust be dreaming because I find myself back in that little private dining area at Alric’s restaurant. He’s here with me, his head between my thighs, his tongue lapping at my center. He’s not mad at me here. I haven’t ruined his hope of finding a scent match who wants to be with him. It’s just me and him in the restaurant he named after me. His name and the phantom taste of chocolate cake on my lips.
Alric.
Alric.
Alric.
The Madeline fades into darkness and Alric’s bedroom becomes clear. The bathroom door is cracked open, the light on. The rain ricochets off the window, the storm as loud as it was when I fell asleep.
I roll over, shoving my head into the pillow, and take a deep breath to steady myself, to erase the lingering memory of Alric’s hands on me.
That was a mistake.
The pillow smells like his true scent: bergamot, orange blossom, and chocolate. Of course he would smell like luxury cologne and temptation. Except I don’t want it from a pillow. I wish he was here now.
That he didn’t hate me.
His scent floods my body and my center aches, empty and desperate. I can’t stop myself from trailing my fingers down to my molten core, dipping my fingers into myself. I close my eyes and imagine that he’s here, that it’s his cock. I push my fingers in and out, stretching.
When my hands do nothing to accomplish what I need, I reach for my dildo, hoping that after a few orgasms, I might start to feel better.
I’d rather feel sick than horny. With the sickness, there’s notmuch these alphas can do, but my god, the horniness? They would make everything better, but I don’t want to be a needy omega so soon. I don’t want to need anything or anyone.
So I focus on the fantasy that can’t control me.
The toy slides in and out, my slick coating me. The Alric of my imagination pumping in and out. His heavy body is pressed on top of mine, warm and welcoming. Knowing he won’t let me go until he’s wrung every ounce of pleasure out of me.
Alric.
Alric.
