Chapter 20
It’s impossible to focus when I get back to work after my appointment. Ambrose kept his exam as professional as possible, but even that was far too stimulating. I’m still slick and aching for him, especially with the prospect of him “taking care of me” tonight.
Thank god the omega scent blocking panties seem to work even when I’m super horny, so I don’t have to worry about outing myself with my scent the second I step back into the office.
Rick took off early to head off on a family vacation, so at least I have no witness to watch me stare at my monitor, my cheeks burning as heat memories unlocked by Ambrose’s touch bubble to the surface.
“Show him your needy pussy, Cami,” Jackson whispers, his breath hot against my ear.
His fingers splay me open, my thighs spread wide as he keeps my back pinned to his chest. The hand on my breast slides up to cage my throat, and rather than making me feel trapped, there’s a blissful sensation of safety.
Ambrose strokes his thick, ruddy cock, his knot inflating as he stares at where Jackson is dipping his finger inside me, drawing out a mix of my slick and their cum and circling it around my clit.
“Oh sweetheart, you’re dripping for us,” the alpha rasps, moving closer to press his lips to my thigh, then trailing teasing kisses closer and closer to my aching pussy.
“Please. Please.” The scrape of Ambrose’s beard and the heat of his mouth, combined with Jackson teasing my clit, have me desperate again.
I cry out in protest when Jackson stops rubbing my clit, sliding his hand up to stroke my belly, but a moment later, Ambrose’s mouth is on me.
Jackson chuckles, letting me know he’s in the mood to torture me again. “Let’s see how many times you can come on his tongue, gorgeous.”
An incoming text notification forces my attention back to my surroundings, which is good, because I was seconds away from seeing if I could rub one out under my desk. That’d finally give my boss a reason to get rid of me, and I’m not about to give him that satisfaction.
With a groan, I squeeze my thighs together and remove my hand from the hem of my skirt and unlock my phone, glancing out into the hallway to make sure no one is paying attention to me texting at my desk. Again, I don’t want to give my boss any more excuses to judge me.
My heart leaps in my chest when I see Ambrose texted. He programmed his number into my phone before I left the clinic, but I didn’t think he’d be messaging me so soon.
Ambrose: Hope you got back to the office alright. Forgive me for leaving you so needy. I hate not being able to take care of you.
And now I’m dripping slick again, my omega eagerly recalling how good it felt letting Ambrose take care of me during my heat.
Camille: I’m having a hard time focusing, but I’ll survive.
Ambrose: I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight.
I suck in a deep breath, trying to shove my horny thoughts down. Which is a mistake because on the heels of that and my relief he’s not texting to cancel comes anxiety about meeting the rest of his pack.
Tonight.
Oh god, I can’t believe I agreed to that! I need more time to prepare. I would’ve worn something different, and now if I go home and change into a nicer outfit, Ambrose will know. Will that make me seem like I’m trying too hard?
See, this is why I stopped dating. It’s such a hassle trying to figure out what date protocol is. I’d rather do whatever I want without worrying about how I’ll be perceived by a man. I’m too old for this shit.
Breathe, Camille. You were excited about this.
I try to focus back on my omega’s excitement as I send a reply.
Camille: At the very least, I’m sure I’ll need to fill that prescription for hugs. I’m pretty nervous. Excited, but freaking out a little.
Ambrose: Of course, sweetheart. I’ll gladly give you all the hugs you need.
Ambrose: I know better than to tell you not to worry because that never helps. Instead, I’ll say that we’re all nervous, so you won’t be alone in that.
Camille: Did you talk to them already?
Ambrose: I texted our pack chat as soon as you left. We’re all scrambling to get ready for you. Which is entirely my fault for the spontaneous invite, but I couldn’t stop myself. My alpha hated the thought of waiting any longer.
I frown at my phone, despite my omega being flattered. I don’t want them upturning their lives for me.
Camille: If another time would work better, I totally understand.
My stomach sours as my omega protests the possibility of not seeing Ambrose and Jackson again ASAP.
Camille: My omega doesn’t like it, but she can deal.
Ambrose: Your omega sounds almost as needy as my alpha.
Ambrose: He’s usually pretty calm, but your whole appointment he was screaming at me to have my way with you on the exam table.
My cheeks warm at the image—one I absolutely was having the whole time, too.
Camille: Hah, they’re both are too horny for our own good.
Ambrose: Professionally, yes. But medically speaking, research has proven that listening to them would have significant health benefits.
Camille: Oh really? So are you going to write me a prescription for sex now, too?
I instantly regret sending that reply, but it’s too late to take it back.
Ambrose: If that would help you feel more comfortable letting your omega take the reins sometimes, absolutely. I can fill it as many times as you need.
Another message pops up almost immediately.
Ambrose: Forgive me, that line was awful. I’m not good at flirting.
I chuckle, his self-deprecation endearing me to him even more.
Camille: Me either. But I liked it.
Ambrose: Well, good. I’ll bring my prescription pad home with me.
Ambrose: Not that I’m expecting to have sex tonight! We’ll take things at whatever pace you’d like. Tonight is for getting to know each other.
Ambrose: Speaking of which, I’ve been asked to find out what you like to eat and if you have any issues with pets. Jackson is making us dinner.
I’m glad for the shift in topics, because if I keep thinking about sex with Ambrose and his pack, I’m going to burn up with need here at my desk.
Camille: Oh, you don’t have to do that! I can eat before. I don’t want to be a bother.
Ambrose: We’re feeding you dinner. Even if my alpha didn’t hate the idea of you not eating with us, Jackson would have a fit. He loves cooking for people.
I never would’ve imagined the sexy, strong beta to like cooking, but then again, I know nothing about him other than that he’s sweet and amazing in bed. For all I know, he could be a professional chef who occasionally moonlights as a heat minder.
Camille: Okay, if you insist.
I start to reply that I’m happy to eat with whatever, but delete that.
When I’ve dated in the past, I never wanted to be seen as high-maintenance, so I made myself as unopinionated as possible.
Which, I realize, is also annoying as hell when you’re forced to be the one to always make decisions, but it was a defense mechanism.
If I didn’t care strongly one way or another, then they couldn’t judge me for liking or disliking something.
If I want there to be any hope of things working out with me and this pack, I need to be myself, not a blank slate for someone else to paint desires and preferences on.
I’ve always been envious of omegas and how it’s seen as natural for them to be opinionated and ask for what they want. Maybe I can let myself embrace that small perk of being an omega.
Besides, Ambrose is asking my opinion on the food I like, not something earth shattering.
My omega is highly pleased when I send a reply that isn’t noncommittal.
Camille: My favorite food is mac and cheese, but any kind of pasta dish would be amazing. I eat meat and most veggies, but carbs and cheese have my heart.
I don’t even let myself apologize or make a self-deprecating joke about having basic taste or unhealthy faves, even though I really want to.
It’s a little pathetic that I’m counting being honest about my preferences as a dating win. You’d think some of this damn anxiety would’ve died with age, but no. Instead, I just stopped bothering with relationships at all.
Ambrose: Oh, thank god, you’re not a health nut. It’d be fine if you were, but it’ll be nice to have someone on my side when we’re arguing about getting takeout versus having grilled chicken and salad again for dinner.
Ambrose: Jackson is very into nutrition, so he tries to gently bully me into making healthier choices by cooking us meals. It’s sweet, but sometimes I want to eat total garbage.
My confidence in sharing my preferences deflates, as I immediately regret picking food that Jackson might take issue with. And now I have the delightful new worry that he’ll try to get me to eat healthier so I’ll lose weight.
I may be accommodating, but that’s one of my deal breakers. I have zero interest in dieting or changing the size of my body.
I almost bring it up, but figure that’s a conversation to have with Jackson directly, rather than putting Ambrose in the middle of things.
Forcing myself to not spiral deeper into that worry preemptively, I answer the other part of Ambrose’s question.
Camille: As far as pets go, I’m allergic to rabbits, but any other animals are great. Well, maybe not any other. If you have a pet tiger or something illegal, we might have a problem.
Ambrose: Damn, okay. I’ll take our tiger back to the zoo.
I snort at Ambrose going along with my silly joke. That’s a good sign, right?
Ambrose seems like a walking green flag, but I fear I’m colorblind when it comes to dating. I don’t trust myself to differentiate between good and bad signs any more.
Camille: I appreciate you making that sacrifice for me.
Ambrose: I’d do anything to make you comfortable and happy.
My breath quickens as I read his message. My omega is thrilled, but my logical side is skeptical.
Ambrose: Crap, I’m coming on too strong. How about this? I’d like to do what I can to make you comfortable and happy.