Chapter 16 Want
Want
Ansel
I felt changed. Not because of what was happening to my body—even though that was a trip. I’d entered a new era in my life by refusing to do what my parents wanted. Which inevitably meant I’d made some mess along the way.
Now I needed to clean up after myself.
I’d told Pascal I needed to make this call. While he looked as if he didn’t want to let me out of his sight, he gave me privacy. Standing on his terrace overlooking the business district, I dialed Valentin’s number.
It took a while, but he finally answered.
“Ansel, darling. I was just thinking about you. How is the weather down on Juliane Beach?”
Ugh. Just hearing the endearment felt like a slap in my face. “Hello, Valentin. I’m back in Ardaine.”
“Oh. Are you getting impatient, then? I’m busy tonight—”
“I don’t want to see you. We can sort this out over the phone.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“You’ve never asked me, but I need to give you an answer anyway. No. I don’t want to marry you.”
My announcement was met with dead silence at first. Then a deep sigh.
“Ansel, are you unwell?”
I laughed at the absurdity of the entire situation. “I’m very well. In fact, I’ve never been better. I don’t want to marry you, Valentin. I won’t. I already said the same to my father. I figured you deserved to know, so that’s why I’m calling you.”
“You sound different. Have you been talking to your therapist? I know your anxiety can get severe, and I swear I don’t mind. These days, there are prescription drugs that don’t affect—”
“Valentin, listen, please.” I sank into one of the patio chairs. This would take a while. “I’m not anxious, and I’m not crazy. I just don’t want you.”
“Let me talk to your father, darling. I’ll call you back.”
I should have kept it together, but frustration got the better of me.
“No, Valentin. For once in your life, listen to what I’m saying.
I don’t want you! I’m in love with someone else.
In fact, I’m at his place right now. I only put on a bathrobe so I could call you, but as soon as I end this call, I’m taking it off and going back to his bed. ”
I listened to Valentin’s puffing breaths, waiting for the information to penetrate his thick skull.
“Ansel, this is unacceptable,” he said in a stern tone. “Your father has apparently glossed over the severity of your condition.”
I didn’t have any patience left for this man.
“There’s no condition. No relationship. No engagement. You tried to marry me against my will, even forced yourself on me, and I find you repulsive. I’m done. Goodbye, Valentin.”
Groaning, I ended the call. I was so mad.
Not even at Valentin—in his egocentric little bubble, he didn’t know any better—but at my parents.
This was the man they wanted me to marry.
This was their best effort to secure a happy life for their only child.
The best choice, my father had said. Fuming, I typed a message to them both.
Me: I told Valentin there’s no engagement.
He seems to believe that I’m mentally ill and refuses to accept my no.
I would appreciate it if you didn’t encourage him in his delusion.
I don’t understand how you could ever have thought I’d be happy with that man.
It pains me that you know me so little. Don’t contact me unless there’s an emergency. I need some time for myself.
Then I turned off the sound on my phone, walked inside, and left the device on the kitchen counter. Pascal emerged from his office, wearing only his cut-off sweats and nothing else.
I stepped into his embrace and nuzzled between his pecs. The smell of pine and forest soil settled in my lungs. Relief and peace permeated my entire being. I couldn’t be angry when Pascal was near—it was physically impossible.
“How did it go?”
“Valentin thinks I’m crazy, but I don’t care. I told him in no uncertain terms that there’s no engagement and never has been. Then I messaged my parents so they’re prepared if he contacts them. Now I’d like to forget about everything entirely.”
“Dinner and wine?” Pascal asked.
I kissed the center of his chest. “And then we go back to bed?” I couldn’t quite hide the want in my tone.
He chuckled. “Are you sleepy, my sweet boy?”
I lifted my head, meeting his emerald gaze. He was grinning down at me, glowing with possessive desire.
“I’m not tired,” I said.
“Maybe you want to go back to bed after dinner and let me eat you as a dessert?”
“What can I say? Now that I know how it feels, I might crave it every day.” I licked my lips. “Multiple times.”
He leaned down to kiss me, and I welcomed his tongue into my mouth. Then my stomach growled, making Pascal break the kiss.
“I need to feed you before I make you come again.” He said it in a low, rumbly voice, and my spine tingled. I could only nod, my insides quivering with all kinds of hunger.
A tall glass of ice water calmed my libido enough to focus on practical matters like deciding what to eat for dinner. After inspecting the contents of Pascal’s fridge, we started making potato gratin. I peeled potatoes while Pascal buttered the baking pan and grated cheese.
“How come you’re so used to working in the kitchen?” he asked. “Your family has staff for these things, don’t they?”
“We do. But I always liked food and cooking, ever since I was a kid. Our chef sometimes let me help, so I learned. We’d make brownies and pancakes. Then I learned the basic stuff from Granddad when we were at the cabin or camping.”
“That makes sense. I figure they don’t have cooking classes at Wintringham.”
I snickered. “No. But we do have an etiquette class and an entire course on fashion and style for omegas.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. I mean, fashion and style is all very nice, but do you think anyone ever talks about the omega rights movement or social justice in class? Not a chance. Because that would be liberal indoctrination. Instead, let’s teach our omegas to look pretty and behave. God forbid they think for themselves.”
Pascal was quiet for a moment, and I started to worry he didn’t agree with me until he spoke again.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to, but I’m curious. Why didn’t Valentin believe you when you told him no?”
That was what had been going on in his head.
“I have an anxiety disorder,” I said. “I’ve been going to therapy basically ever since I hit puberty.
Valentin seems to think that makes me incapable of deciding for myself what I want.
Never mind that I’ve never felt as healthy and as strong as I’ve done these past few days.
He suggested my condition might be behind my behavior. ”
Pascal looked stunned. “But that’s ludicrous.”
“Like most alphas, Valentin believes the sun shines out of his ass. How could anyone not want him and be of sound mind at the same time?”
Shaking his head, Pascal resumed grating. “He was raised to believe omegas exist only to please alphas, so he expects a well-behaved Wintringham omega to just nod along and smile.”
“Exactly.” I paused, squinting at him. “How come you’re not like that? Your family is wealthy, right? And you’re even older than Valentin. You should be the embodiment of an entitled alpha.”
Pascal blushed, looking so cute I could have climbed over the table to smooch his stubbly face. “Well, yeah. But I was raised by a dragon mate.”
“Your omega dad. Who’s human.”
“Yes.”
“But the dragons are strong and have, like, magical powers.” Thinking out loud, I tried to make sense of it. “And humans are not. So technically…”
“We should be even more dominant in our relationships than people.”
“I guess?”
Pascal shook out the cheese grater and put it into the sink.
“My main instinct is to make my mate happy,” he said casually.
“It’s like that for all dragons. My parents did everything together, helping each other, and I grew up thinking that every marriage was the same.
I only realized much later how unfair life was outside my little bubble. ”
I pondered his response. “So what you’re saying is that I got lucky?”
He snorted out a laugh. “I hope you’ll still think that in thirty years.”
Thirty years.
I watched him move around the kitchen, doing mundane things like chopping vegetables and wiping the countertop, and I allowed myself to venture there in my mind.
Would I marry this man one day?
Would we cook together like this in five years? Ten? Thirty years?
He’d be seventy, and I’d be fifty. Presumably, we’d have adult kids. As old or even older than I was now.
Maybe the reason I wasn’t freaking out was that I was unable to imagine the magnitude of it.
“Ansel, about your anxiety, if I do something…”
“It’s gone. I’ve never felt as good as I do now.”
My reply seemed to appease him. Maybe I’d been high on adrenaline ever since I drove up to Granddad’s cabin, but I wouldn’t question my luck.
After placing the baking pan into the oven, Pascal threw the dish towel over his shoulder and glanced at me, smiling.
“Do you want a light beer?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
The dinner was eaten, the dishes were in the dishwasher, I’d showered and brushed my teeth, and finally, I lay naked in Pascal’s bed again.
He arranged me on the pillows, stuffing two under my hips and folding my legs to my chest. I held myself spread out for him with my arms hooked under my knees.
“Comfortable?” he asked, patting my ass cheek.
I nodded. I felt exposed, but I liked it. Offering my body to Pascal seemed natural.
“If you change your mind…” I began, but he silenced me with a kiss.
He traveled down my body, lingering on my nipples and around my bellybutton. He bypassed my cock and mouthed my balls, suckling on them gently. When he pressed his lips to my opening, I was panting with desire.
His tongue in my hole made me chant his name and curse in a way I hadn’t known I had in me. But then he added a finger alongside his tongue, tenderly stretching me. I wailed, and my cum sprayed my stomach. Pascal licked it off, pumping two fingers in and out of my twitching hole.
I couldn’t restrain myself. The words just flew out. “Fuck me, please, Pascal.”
He gave out a growl, which sounded promising, but then he said, “How about you imagine I’m preparing you for my dick?” His whisper was dark and menacing. I shuddered with aftershocks.
“We can’t fuck yet because I’m a virgin, and you’re too big for me.” Where did that come from? Had I been possessed by a demon? An incubus in that case.
“Mhmm.” A teasing bite to my nipple. His fingers stilled deep inside me. “I love how smart you are.” He bit my other nipple, and I shuddered. “You’re so tiny.”
“I want your cock, please.” Maybe it was a game, but I meant it.
“We can’t fuck, love. I’d hurt you.”
“Stretch me out,” I gasped.
“I will. I’ll train your hole, my sweet virgin. When the time comes, your body will swallow my dick to the hilt.”
He licked my erection, painted a figure eight on my taint, and shoved his tongue into me again. He did something with his fingers, taking them out and putting them back in. I felt pressure on my rim. Not enough to hurt, but my body resisted.
Pascal had two fingers inside me, and he pulled them apart. Was he using one from each hand? He must be. His tongue slid in and out along his fingers while he pulled and held still and pulled some more.
The stretch felt fucking incredible. An empty ache deep inside my hole niggled and teased, but my rim was getting the workout of a lifetime.
I couldn’t call myself a virgin after this by any stretch of the imagination—ha, pun intended—but this was a game, right?
“Pascal. I’m so full.”
He lifted his head and appraised me, licking his lips.
“Breathe, love.”
More pressure.
He watched, fierce and hungry, focused on my ass.
“Three fingers. You’re so wet.”
How deep was he? Something bulky popped inside. Knuckles. More pressure. He slid out and pushed in again, and I moaned at the exquisite sensations flaring from my hole.
“I’ll come!”
“Good. Come all over my hand.”
He went faster, driving his fingers into me with more force. My body opened to the assault like a damned flower. I moaned on each thrust, relishing the fullness, my rim stretched like rubber. Something tickled and itched deep inside me, too deep for Pascal’s fingers to reach…
“Fuck me!” I sobbed. I’d gone insane from lust. “Fuck me, please!”
Pascal fell over me and caught my mouth in a bruising kiss. He pumped his hand hard and fast. Lewd smacking sounds filled the room. Faster. Faster. His knuckles drove in and out on a river of slick. Harder. More.
Finally, I exploded.
He fluttered his fingers and rubbed the front wall of my hole while I spasmed with the release.
But I wanted his cock! The itchy, empty place deep inside me throbbed and ached as if I hadn’t come at all.
“Pascal, please.”
“Shh.”
He knelt above me, his hand still in my hole. Maybe now he’d do it?
Except he stroked himself instead. In seconds, he covered my groin with streaks of his cum. It looked amazingly hot. His white seed stained my softening cock and blended with mine on my underbelly.
But I wanted more. Needed more.
Half satisfied, half frustrated, I ran my hand through the mess and smeared it into my skin like lotion. How come Pascal didn’t feel the same need as I did? He slowly pulled his fingers out, and I slumped on the pillows. I wasn’t hiding my disappointment well.
“What is it, love?”
“I thought you were going to do it after all.”
He laid his head on my chest, hiding his face from me.
“You’re killing me.”
“It’s weird that I seem to want it more than you.”
Pascal bit and licked my nipple.
“Ansel, there’s only one thing I want more than to be balls deep in you right now.”
“What is that?”
A chaste kiss to my other nipple. “For you to be safe and happy.”
I hugged his head to me. He suckled on my nipple, soothing the itch I’d felt for the last day or so.
“I’ll be good and wait.” I sighed. “Is three days enough?”
He chuckled against my skin.