Chapter 18
BLAKE
Ollie's cock was made for me. We fit together in all the right ways. I'd never been with a guy as tall as me, or bigger than me, and it made all the difference. When he flattened his legs to the bed and flipped us over like it was nothing, I swooned against his chest.
Pressure blossomed in my ass unlike anything I'd experienced. I'd worried his knot would be too much for me, since his cock was perfect before it expanded, but, "Oh, fuck, it's even better than I imagined."
Ollie's laughter vibrated his whole body, sending shockwaves through my still twitching cock and oversensitive channel. "That's all you, sweetheart. You're fucking amazing."
He thrust against me, and I bore down on him. His knot felt too big, yet perfect at the same time.
I wriggled against him, loving the fullness of it and the delicious pressure against my rim. "I could come again."
"Do it. Touch yourself. Mark me with your cum."
Oh, fuck. His filthy words pushed me even closer to the edge. I jerked my cock, and Ollie watched, his hooded gaze flicking from my face to my cockhead. My nerve endings sparked too hot as I came, cum spurting haphazardly over Ollie's chest before dribbling the last few drops over my fingers.
He gazed up at me with an angelic grin as he rubbed my cum into his chest hair and skin. "I belong to you now."
I snorted. "You're your own person. You don't belong to anyone."
He frowned, and I instantly regretted my words. I wanted that smile back.
"We're mates. I'm yours, and you're mine."
"Mates." I was still learning what that meant. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Ollie's feelings. I'd hurt enough people over the past year. Ollie deserved a better mate than I could ever be, but if fate put us together, I would do my best.
When my heat broke, I woke to the opening riff for a daytime talk show I'd watched when I was in college.
My body ached in all the best ways. Thanks to my suppressors, my heat was far easier on me than the first one, but it was still disconcerting to know we'd done nothing but fuck, eat, shower, and sleep all weekend.
Well, I had. Ollie had done a load of sheets between knotting me in his shower and again on top of his kitchen table.
Ooh, I had done something else, after all. I'd cleaned the table with bleach while Ollie switched out the laundry. Then, I'd grabbed an apple from the refrigerator and curled up on his couch with a thick blanket to wait for the next wave to hit.
Fuck. It was Monday, right? Not Tuesday?
I struggled with the covers and groaned when my leg turned the wrong way, wrenching my knee. I clambered free and frowned at the purple and brown bruise around a sizable goose-egg to the side of my kneecap. Right. I'd banged it against the table leg.
I pulled the freshly laundered blanket off the top of the bed and wrapped it over my shoulders like a makeshift robe.
Satisfied I was clothed enough for the journey, I searched for my phone.
It wasn't where I'd left it on the bedside table, so I followed the sound of the studio audience's laughter into the living room.
Ollie was sound asleep on the couch. The television remote hung precariously from his fingers, only two degrees from slipping to the hardwood floor, which would probably scare him awake.
I nudged his fingers out of the way and took the remote, turning the television off before I got hooked on a lively discussion of Jeremy's indiscretion.
I glanced at the screen before it went dark, and I froze. In the corner of the screen, it read, "Tune in tomorrow for Worst-day Wednesday pranks gone wrong!"
"Fuck!" I shouted. The remote slid from my fingers and hit the hardwood floor. The battery compartment snapped open, and two AA batteries rolled in opposite directions under the couch.
"Good afternoon!" Even when he was awakened by shouting and loud noises, Ollie was still a perfect gentleman. I kinda resented him for it.
"It's Tuesday?"
He pulled me into his lap. "It is."
"Where's my phone?"
"Charging on the kitchen counter. You got a string of text messages this morning, and then it died."
"Oh no!" I tried to stand and fell back into his arms, my head spinning.
"You need to rest today." He kissed my temple.
"What time is it?" The talk show used to run right after lunch. If I hurried home now, I could make it to work before—
"It's almost four."
"Fuck!" Our office closed at five.
"You told them you were in heat." Ollie's breath was warm against my cheek.
"I sent a text message to my boss on Friday," I said. "He already thinks I'm a flaky omega."
Ollie's growl reverberated against my back. "That's bullshit."
"I need to check my messages." Instead of trying to get up again, I flopped into Ollie's arms, resting the back of my head on his shoulder.
He laughed. "I'll carry you."
He was my first partner who could lift me off the ground. He carried me to the kitchen like it was nothing and set me down on the counter beside his charging station.
I powered my phone on, and the text notification chime rang repeatedly, all with the same display name, "Bossman." He hated when I called him that, so it had stuck.
I re-read the text I sent on Friday. "I'm in heat and won't be in on Monday. Please schedule me as taking a sick day. I left my laptop at the office."
His response read, "New year - no sick days and no vacation.
Monday will be your second strike and unpaid.
" My first strike was returning from lunch fifteen minutes late the day I'd called the therapists.
That meant yesterday and today were my second and third.
As in baseball, third strike and I was out.
Shit. Well, there was no way I could have made it to work on time, either yesterday or today.
Ollie handed me a bunch of grapes and kissed my temple. "Bad news?"
"I think they fired me."
He backed against the counter. I held my phone up where we could both see it and scrolled through my text messages. The final one said, "Check your email."
I pulled up my personal inbox and found three messages, two from HR and one from Michael Wacheter, my former boss.
The first email from HR was from yesterday, detailing my second strike. The second was my termination notice. To add insult to injury, they called the second day, "No call, no show."
Shame and frustration built in my throat until I couldn't breathe. I'd never been fired before. I hadn't even been on an employment improvement plan. I didn't like my job, but I handled employee questions better than most.
"You were already planning to quit." Ollie drew circles on my back, and the warmth from his hand soaked into my t-shirt. "It isn't all bad."
I stifled a sob and opened the final email.
"We regret to inform you that, while you qualified for a second interview for the available supervisor position, it has been canceled as a result of your termination. We also revoked your application to the other two positions for which you applied. We wish you well in your future endeavors."
The last line squeezed my battered heart. I'd worked there for the last five years, and somehow, I didn't have enough vacation or sick time to cover an unexpected two days off.
"This is bullshit." Ollie shoved my knees apart so he could stand between them. He smelled so good after his shower, while I was still a mess of slick and sex from this morning.
"No, you're right," I said, trying to manifest positive thoughts. "I have an appointment with your union leader on Thursday, and now I can attend classes during the day."
Ollie pulled back and cupped my chin. "Move in with me."
"I …"
"It's closer to school, and you won't have to worry about finances." His throat clicked when he swallowed. "You don't have to stay with me. I'll hook the cottage up to the LP so you'll stay warm this winter."
I shook my head. "You don't need to—"
"Please, let me help you."
I tugged on his hair until he yelped. "Listen to me. If I'm moving out here, I want to live with you, not in the cottage."
"You mean it?" He pulled me against his chest and hugged me so tight my laughter stuck in my throat. "Shit! Sorry!"
He dropped his hands to my ass and picked me up instead, twirling me around the kitchen until I was dizzy. "You're moving in!" He repeated the litany until I joined in.
"I'm moving in!"
He carried me to the bathroom and lowered me to sit on the sink. "First, you need to brush your teeth and shower. Then, we can make a list of everything we need to do."
My heart melted into a puddle right there on the bathroom floor. Ollie wanted to make a list with me. If that didn't prove he was my fated mate, nothing would.
It took a few weeks to sort through our list, but then moving day came, and with it, the moment I'd dreaded.
"I'm moving some stuff into the storage unit for you." I sent pictures of my rocking recliner and glass-topped metal desk.
I'd put Mom and Dad's nicest furniture and some keepsakes into storage for Cassie when she finished school. We had to sell the house to pay the rest of her tuition, room, and board. Selling our old home in Rockford had torn us apart.
"I thought Vic moved without you," she texted right away.
"He did."
"New roommate?"
"I'm moving." I sent her the address.
My phone rang a moment later. "What the fuck?"
"What?"
"That place can't be for rent. If you emptied my bank account to pay for some rundown cabin in the woods—"
"Hey!"
My tone must have given me away, because Cassie immediately apologized. "This is all so sudden. You didn't mention this when we talked before Christmas."
"I didn't know. Vic moved out while I was in Oregon, and—"
"Where the hell are you getting all this money to go on trips and buy houses?"
"I'm not! Well, the trip was my gift to myself." I used the money I'd saved for Christmas presents to take a pity trip. "I met someone there, and I'm moving in with him."
"Oh." Her voice softened. "I'm sorry for knocking it, then. It looks like a nice place."
"It is." I squinted my eyes shut against the grief that threatened to bowl me over every time we spoke since our parents died.
"You're always welcome to come stay with us.
Spring break. Summer break. Whenever." Ollie and I hadn't talked about it, but I knew in my heart he would agree.
Why else would he have built an in-law cottage, if not to house the in-laws?
"Thanks. I'll think about it."
"How's school?" I asked, not wanting her to go yet. As painful as it was, I missed the sound of her voice.
"It's good. I made the dean's list last semester."
"That's great!"
"Everything's okay, though? They aren't going to kick me out of my dorm in the middle of the semester?"
"They wouldn't have kicked you out." I'd been late on a monthly payment for her room and board because I didn't know our parents had chosen that payment plan. When I received the first arrears notice, I set it up on autopay.
"Thanks for taking care of it," Cassie said. "I know I've been a shitty sister. I missed you at Christmas."
"I missed you, too." We'd texted formalities, but nothing more. "I watched Die Hard on a laptop screen."
She laughed. "My friend and I hate-watched hours of Christmas movies. That vacation one isn't half bad, but the rest were so cheesy. Mom would have loved them."
I heard the tears in her voice, and something in my chest loosened. I'd felt responsible for my sister's health and well-being since the accident. For the first time, I knew she would be all right. We both would be.
"Come stay with me over Spring Break," I said. "We can go to the aquarium, or the science museum."
She laughed through her tears. "Promise you won't make me put my hand on the static electricity generator again."
"I won't, I promise."
"Okay, but I have to work over Spring Break. How about Memorial Day?" She sniffled.
Before I could answer, she whispered, "I'm so sorry."
"For what?"
"I thought avoiding you would make it easier to forget about them, but I was wrong. No more holidays apart, okay?"
My laughter sounded broken, but my heart was full. "Okay. Starting with Memorial Day."