5. Thirty-two
Brea
Downtown was golden with afternoon sunlight. Idyllic, to the point it seemed almost too beautiful to exist in reality, like some combination of a Dali painting and a TV set.
I walked along the sidewalk, passing by high-end boutiques, a used book store, a few restaurants, an old theater that predated every other business in a two-mile radius. Wine bars, pubs, an arcade. Candy shop. Daiquiri shop. Bike shop.
Some of the storefronts were dark, their signs flipped to Closed, simply showing glimpses of what lay inside. Musical instruments displayed on black velvet in one, antique furniture in another. Two blocks away, there was a neighborhood market and bank. Park, post office, corner shop, gym.
Everything we needed within walking distance. Which was extra important, considering we’d sold our single rundown car to save up for the latest move. At least public transit was green and cheap.
This was a huge part of why we’d moved into Amethyst Commons. We were putting down roots at last, something we’d been waiting to do for so long while I worked on my degree. We wanted to live in an area that thrummed with life, with opportunity and beauty.
I’d intended to take a leisurely stroll, but my long strides ate up the sidewalk as I rushed toward Taryn’s work. I was too excited to reach her. It’d been a long while since I’d been away from her and the house for so long, and I was antsy to share my day with her.
Turning the corner, I couldn’t suppress my elated grin as I spied my destination.
A placard hung outside the dark wooden door, swinging slightly in the dusk light.
Bean & Leaf. Two huge front windows let me see inside the coffeeshop slash teahouse, from the scattered tables and mismatched chairs, to the faux fireplace on one side, to the built-ins filled with a variety of old books and quirky tchotchkes, to the counter in the very back where a certain breathtaking omega stood chatting with a customer while mixing up a mug of tea.
I stepped through the front door, dark aged wood with another large window looking in, and stood in line at the counter.
I pretended to read the menu hanging overhead but kept my attention on Taryn.
Her relaxed posture, her calm scent. Her silky dark hair was pulled back in a casual ponytail, wisps floating around her face as she chatted casually with her current customer.
Her golden skin seemed to glow in the low lighting.
Finally, the stranger collected their to-go cup and stepped away with a wave. I approached the counter, and Taryn smirked as she leaned forward. “Well, hello, ma’am,” she said, tone serious but smirk flirty. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”
“I don’t mind waiting for something as sweet as you,” I replied, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss over the countertop.
A tingling energy filtered through the bond, enhancing her warm toffee scent. “I told you you’d rock it!” she said with glee.
I huffed, rolling my eyes. “I haven’t told you a thing about it.”
“Yeah, but I can read your mind.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yep,” Taryn chirped. “And you’re thinking about how I was right and you totally rocked your orientation and impressed your mentor and how all the other residents simply bowed down to worship at your feet because they’re smart enough to recognize brilliance when it walks among them.”
My laugh burst from me like a bubble, giddiness and relief in equal measure. “That’ll teach me to doubt you.”
“Hell yeah, it will.”
“Is this what I pay you for?” A blonde woman emerged from the back office in a pale yellow dress, the skirt full and swishing around her calves. She didn't so much as look up from her notebook as she rounded the counter and continued, “To flirt with your mate?”
“Well, you won’t let me flirt with any of the other customers, so I had to adapt,” Taryn replied without missing a beat.
Taryn had told me all about Jennie, the shop owner, after starting work last week. Strict but a big ol’ softie inside, she’d insisted. Judging from the glare Jennie now shot at my omega over the top of her glasses, I had my doubts about that assessment.
Jennie rolled her eyes, consulting the notebook in her hand. “I was going to see about having you sign for the bean delivery tomorrow, unless you’d rather make doe eyes with your lady.”
“Beans!” Taryn replied. “I’ll sign for beans.”
“Good choice,” Jennie replied, marking something in her notebook as she turned back toward her office.
Taryn smirked as she leaned her hip against the counter. “She loves me.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, pulling my phone out. “Flirting with customers, hmm?”
“For the tips. Obviously.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “We’ll see about that, Teacup.”
Our apartment door slammed closed…but only because I’d slammed my omega back against it, devouring her mouth with my own.
Her hands framed my face, fingers sliding into my wind-tossed hair as her tongue probed against my lips.
I opened, immediately running mine against hers.
Two identical gasps eased out of us. Even two years after mating, every little graze and gaze still sent sparks erupting under my skin.
Taryn was mine to command, but it was all for her pleasure, and she knew it. She’d joked earlier about my classmates bowing down to me. In truth, I bowed before her. Worshipped at her altar. Praised her body and mind, miraculous in their perfection at every moment.
She was a marvel. A messiah who’d saved me in every way. I’d spend the rest of my life as her supplicant, building her up and breaking her down—in the most delicious ways.
Slowly, without breaking contact, I moved backward, guiding Taryn forward, into the apartment.
My fingers slid along the smooth warmth of her skin, under her shirt and up her back to unhook her bra.
I smiled into her sighing mouth as I reached under that now-useless strip of lace to palm her breast, my fingers just fluttering over her nipple as she nipped my bottom lip, already wanting more.
I moved my lips over the hinge of her jaw and down its slope, scraping my teeth over the imprint I’d left on her neck. “So damn soft,” I breathed against her pulse point. “Smell so damn good.”
Taryn whined as I pulled the neck of her t-shirt down to lavish open-mouthed kisses across her collarbones to the other side of her throat. My fingers tightened around her breast, the slightest pinch of her nipple.
Goddamn, I could smell her slicking.
“Will you be a good omega for me tonight, Teacup?” The tip of my tongue carved a hot line up her neck.
“Yes,” she gasped.
My heart raced, my breaths already shallow and quick. I squeezed my thighs together to soothe the pulse that had started at my clit.
I had to be steady. In control. Of myself. Of Taryn.
“Good. Sit on the chair.”
My omega obeyed without question, never breaking eye contact with me as she sat on the edge of the straight-backed chair. It was an ornate thing we’d picked up for twenty bucks at an estate sale, filigrees carved into the wood of the back and a satiny, shimmery navy material covering the seat.
We’d need it professionally cleaned on a regular basis, for sure.
I perched myself on the end of our bed, legs crossed and back straight. I took a few silent breaths to climb into my persona. To find her voice, to capture the glint in her eyes and the wicked words that sizzled off her tongue.
My alpha, ready to play.
“Spread those legs for me, Teacup.” My voice was low and sultry, so different to even my own ears than my everyday voice.
Taryn dragged her bottom lip through her teeth as she slowly, teasingly, propped out first her right leg, then her left, so that she all but straddled the seat of the chair.
The loose fabric of her shorts flowed over her legs like water over rocks.
It took everything in me not to jump up immediately and run my hands over that smooth skin myself.
But this was our game. Our great irony that we connected so thoroughly without touching at all.
I compromised by pitching slightly forward, taking a subtle inhale of her gorgeous perfume billowing outward from her. “Are you aching, Omega?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, Alpha.”
“Are you slick?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Show me.”
Taryn slipped her fingers beneath the gusset of her flouncy shorts, beneath her panties. The fabric bulged and undulated as she took slow, deliberate swipes of herself. Her eyelids fluttered, and she rocked against her own hand.
“ Now, Omega."
Her hand emerged, fingers held high and spread to corroborate her word. Sure enough, they were covered in her thick, sweet musk. It stretched like sheets of translucent silk between her fingers and ran in thick droplets down her palm.
My heart sped, excitement coursing through me like lightning. “Thank you for being honest.”
Taryn squirmed in the seat.
“Taste yourself, Omega.”
She sucked her coated fingers into her mouth without hesitation, cheeks hollowing as she cleaned her fingers of her own slick.
I stood, taking one slow step toward where she sat, cheeks and chest pink and eyes glassy. “Do you want me to taste you?”
“Yes,” she breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Another step closer. “You want me to lick up the slick dripping down your leg like melted ice cream?”
She squirmed in her seat. “Yes, please.”
I finally stood directly between her spread legs, my knees bumped against the front of the chair. “Then make way, little omega.”
Taryn groaned, hooking one finger over the saturated gussets of panties and shorts, pulling them to the side and leaving her exposed before me. Creamy, decadent toffee aroma filled the room. I wanted to melt into her like caramel.
“Such a good omega,” I cooed as I lowered myself first to one knee, then the other. My fingers raked softly along her inner thigh, and she mewled with glee. “Always so sweet to me.”
“Please, Alpha.”
“And so polite too.” I teased her with a single flick of my tongue against her swollen clit, making her whole body twitch.
We’d come up against more than a few homophobes convinced that I couldn’t take care of my omega, that she must be so forlorn and dejected and needy without a regular knotting.
Idiots who didn’t realize that while female alphas didn’t have knotted cocks, our saliva and slick possessed a unique enzyme just for omegas.
I swiped my tongue slowly, solidly through her soaked folds, relishing the tremble that wracked her body and the broken keen that filled my ears.
Certainly didn’t sound like she was wishing for a knot.
My fingers clenched around her thighs as I settled into position. We were both going to enjoy this.
Taryn traced gentle shapes over my stomach while I ran my fingers through her hair.
My own post-sex euphoria melded with hers in the bond, making us both more than a little love drunk.
This was almost a better feeling than the orgasms themselves—this blissful state of perfect union, my happiness fueling hers and hers fueling mine.
A pinprick of agitation poked in the bond before disappearing, and I turned my body more toward hers. “What’s on your mind, Teacup?”
She huffed, scooting closer and rolling her eyes. “Nothing important.”
“Taryn…”
She sighed, lazily circling a finger around my nipple. “It’s stupid.”
“No it’s not.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“Don’t have to.” I anchored my gaze to hers, my hand soothing through her dark hair. “I know it’s not.”
Her throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. “I was just…wondering if we should book a heat clinic room after all. We’d still have time if we did it in the next week or so.”
“What?” I sat up and propped my head on my hand. “Why?”
Our one-bedroom apartment was currently set up like a studio, with our bed in the back right corner of the living space and our tiny sofa and chairs in the left.
The single bedroom, we’d planned to spend the six weeks until Taryn’s next heat outfitting into her dream nest. All things soft and cozy and warm, of course.
As well as sound- and scent-proofing so the neighbors wouldn’t petition to evict us once a quarter.
Already, we’d stashed in there various cushions and pillows and blankets, drawings and sketches and plans scattered about.
We’d tackle it bit by bit over the coming weeks, for our sanity as much as our finances.
A nest of her very own had been one of the biggest excitements of finally settling into one place long-term. Since we left Pockston, it had been rented rooms and makeshift nests. Never a place that was truly hers, truly built for her comfort and enjoyment, that existed just for her.
Why would she second-guess that?
As Taryn shared her encounter with our new landlord earlier in the day, all feelings of contentment and bliss evaporated like water from a pan.
“I don’t know,” she finished quietly. Her finger never stropped its tracing of my breast, as though that little motion kept her from tipping over emotionally. “We want to stay here. I don’t want to cause us problems.”
“Hey,” I said. “This is our home. Omegas have nests in their homes. Asshole landlord doesn’t like it? Tough shit.”
“Brea—”
“Nope.” I plopped back down on the pillows.
“What if he raises our rent? Or, I don’t know, charges us a de-scenting fee for ruining the neighbor’s carpet or something?”
“Then we’ll manage,” I answer. She opened her mouth to pose more ridiculous questions, I was sure, but I planted a single finger over her lips to silence them.
“Besides, your heat scent is far from ruinous, love. If anything, he should pay us to infuse this stupid building with your delectable”—I kissed her lips—“intoxicating”—her nose—“exquisite”—her forehead—“scent.”
She bit her lip to hide her smile. “Oh yeah?”
I hummed as I kissed down the column of her neck. “He’s not worthy of such a prize,” I murmured against her skin.
Her scent bloomed, her arousal rising again as I made my way down her body. All the while, my anger bled slowly away as I focused on making my omega come apart beneath my lips.
Caine Arceneaux and his antiquated prejudices could suck on a tailpipe. I made my way down to suck on something entirely more enjoyable.