Chapter 6
The eggs are definitely overcooking as I mindlessly push them around in the pan with the spatula hanging limply from my fingers. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway. Not for eggs at least.
My thoughts keep replaying the scene I shamefully watched like a peeping Tom last night.
I heard noise from next door and my omega took control.
Watching them get each other off was one of the hottest experiences of my life.
I hid in the shadows, touching myself while they were none-the-wiser, lost in their own pleasure.
I’m blaming my actions on the horny bitch inside me and the scent match.
I know nothing about these alphas, but I want them anyway. Watching them come together so effortlessly last night—no pun intended—made me think there was more to the trio than I originally pegged them for.
Speaking of pegging… No! Bad omega.
Then again, they’re built for me right? To be my perfect matches? So maybe they’ll be into my particular…proclivities. Most men get all squirmy when I mention it. Prudes.
A burning scent breaks into my daydream and I slide the pan off the eye of the stove, leaving it to cool before I try to scrape out the waste of eggs piled inside. Whoops.
Now that I know my scent matches are right next door, I need to decide what to do about it.
I’ve always been fiercely independent, even before I presented as an omega.
I haven’t trusted a male partner in the past enough to fully submit outside of my heat, especially not an alpha.
Most alphas are intimated by me, and I refuse to make myself smaller to fit in their rigid box of what they deem a proper omega to be. Fuck that.
But these alphas, even the cocky-looking one who was driving, gave up control to me so easily. It was refreshing.
In a society where omegas are often given so little control, it’s not a wonder that I crave it.
During my heat is another story altogether.
The slutty little omega who drives me turns into a mewling, begging, whimpering pile of need.
Usually I ride it out alone with a shit-ton of toys, or check into a clinic where pre-screened alphas can ease me, without the risk of accidental bonding bites.
But what would it be like to freely submit during my heat to alphas I could trust? Would I beg for bites? Would I let them sink their teeth in me, claiming me forever?
Thoughts of my heat remind me that it’s coming soon. Like, within the next few days, soon. That’s probably why I so easily caved to voyeurism last night. I was planning on a solo-adventure for this one, but maybe it can be a group project.
Making a decision, I head back into my bedroom to change into the skimpiest bikini I own. The alphas’ boat is still docked, so I know they must be home. Let’s see if I can tempt them out of their cave.