23. Easton
23
EASTON
I fidgeted with the buttons on my shirt as I waited for Olive to open the door. I rarely dressed up, so I kept tugging at my suit jacket. Lucy had tailored it for me so it fit, but I still felt a little awkward in it. Would Olive like it?
The door opened, and there she was. My omega. She was wearing those fucking fishnet tights again, this time with thigh-high boots, a short black skirt, and a cream sweater. My mouth gaped like a fish as I tried to come up with something to say, any words to describe how fucking sexy she was. I wanted to bury myself between those thick thighs again, dig my fingers into her every dip and curve.
“Am I dressed okay?” she asked, her words hesitant. “I can change.”
“No,” I almost shouted. I pulled her out of the house by her waist, shutting the door behind her. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Oh.” Her lips parted and I captured them with my own, my fingers twisting in her hair, my other hand gripping her hip tightly. She wrapped her arms around me, pressing her soft breasts against my chest.
“My Olive,” I murmured against her lips. “I can’t think clearly around you.” I palmed her ass and she let out a moan, which went straight to my cock. I stepped forward until her back was against the door. “Fuck, your body is perfect. So fucking soft. You fit against me like you were made for me.”
“You like my outfit, then?” she asked as I kissed my way down her throat.
“Like is an understatement, little siren. I would wreck my boat at sea just to get close to you.”
Her fingers ran through my hair. “That is the weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
I reluctantly pulled away, cupping her cheek. “Get used to it.”
I took her hand and we headed up the pathway to town. People peered out of shop windows at us, and I tugged Olive closer to me, trying to distract her. I loved showing her off, wanted to run around town shouting that she was mine, but I didn’t want her to feel self-conscious.
“Do you like Chinese?” I asked as we neared the restaurant. Shit, what if she didn’t? She ate a lot of instant noodles, but that didn’t mean…
“Yes, I love it.”
Her smile was radiant as she looked up at me.
“Good, because here we are.”
I stopped us in front of the Red Lantern. “This restaurant actually belongs to Summer’s parents.”
She cocked her head. “Isn’t Summer Vietnamese?”
“Yep.”
She laughed. “Well, okay then.”
Olive was quiet when we first sat down, but I didn’t mind. I could talk enough for both of us. And slowly, over General Tso’s and Kung Pow Chicken, she opened up. Told me about her family, about pranks she pulled on her dad while they were out lobstering. With every word, I fell more and more in love with her.
Our server brought the bill—which I grabbed before her hand could so much as twitch towards it—and fortune cookies to our table.
She squirmed a little in her seat. “Are you sure?” She gestured at the bill .
I handed her a fortune cookie. “Absolutely. Now, read your fortune. They’re always a bit unique.”
Olive pursed her lips but did what she was told, cracking open the cookie. “Never give up on your dreams. Unless they’re unrealistic. Then yeah, give up on those.” She scrunched her nose adorably.
I broke apart my cookie and flattened the fortune. “Mine just says, ‘For rectal use only.’”
Olive had just taken a sip of her drink and spat it all over the table. “It does not .”
I held up the paper slip as she wiped down the table.
“Oh my god, it does.”
“So, you know, a little preview of what’s to come.” I gave her a wink.
Without missing a beat, she asked, “Oh, you’re into pegging?”
Now it was my turn to choke on my drink. “No, nope, absolutely not.”
Olive just smiled.
Cheeky omega.
I pulled out my phone to check the time. “Oh, shit. We’re running late. It’s time for phase two of our date.” I put some cash down on the table and reached for Olive’s hand.
“Phase two? Lead the way.”
“Phase two is dancing?” Olive asked, staring at the sign outside the Starlight Grove Community Center.
“Marisol and Carmen are teaching a class. I thought it could be fun.”
Olive chewed her lip. “I don’t know. I can’t dance.”
“Neither can I. That’s why we’re taking the class.”
A wisp of bitter scent came off her, and I wrapped my arms around her. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, baby.” Had I gone too far? I thought this would be a fun way for her to become a part of the town, but maybe it was too much too soon .
She took a deep breath. “It’s okay. We can give it a try. Just don’t make fun of my terrible skills.”
“I would never.” I tilted her chin so I could press a gentle kiss to her lips. “My brave girl. Let’s go make fools of ourselves.”
We slipped into the back of the large community room, already filled with pairs of dance partners.
“We’ll stay back here,” I said, tucking a strand of Olive’s hair behind her ear. She nodded and clung to my arm a little tighter.
“Welcome, everyone!” Marisol said, clapping her hands. “It’s so exciting to see everyone here.” Her eyes zeroed in on the two of us, and her smile widened.
“Tonight, we will learn the basics of Bachata, a very sensual dance.” Carmen drew out the word sensual , staring directly at Olive and me while she said it.
They grabbed a couple of hot, young male volunteers and showed us the basic steps. Olive and I fumbled through them, but the more we danced, the more she loosened up.
“Bachata is about feeling the music,” Carmen said. “Olive, loosen your hips. I want to see them swaying side to side with each step.”
Olive gave a little frustrated huff as we fumbled through the next series of steps.
“You’re supposed to loosen your hips,” I tease.
“Well, you’re supposed to be leading me,” she snapped back, her voice all frosty. I grinned. I loved snippy Olive.
I moved my hand down from her waist until I was palming her ass cheek and pulled her tight against me. “There, now I can help you with your hip movements,” I murmured.
“This was not part of the instructions,” she hissed. But she didn’t try to move away. With every step and swing of her hips, her hot little pussy ground against me.
“I’m not sure what that is. It’s not Bachata, but it is sensual.”
Olive jolted and we both turned to find Carmen and Marisol a few feet away, looking fucking gleeful.
I cleared my throat and looked back at Olive. “You know, I think we’ve mastered this dancing thing. Do you want to head out? ”
Her cheeks were flaming red, and she couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye. “Yep, yep. No one has the moves like us.”
I chuckled, gave the sisters a wave, and led my omega out of the community center.
“I’m never going to be able to show my face in town,” Olive groaned once we got outside. The night air was cool, and I tugged her flush against my body to make sure she stayed warm.
“Nah, it will be fine. And if they make a big deal about it, I’ll egg Stanley’s car. Give the town something else to talk about.”
She pursed her lips, but I knew she was fighting a smile. Relief flooded me that she wasn’t too upset. I couldn’t stand the idea of hurting Olive in any way.
“Should we walk back?”
She stood on her tiptoes and gave me a kiss, running her fingers down the stubble on my jaw. “Yes, please.”