Chapter 14 Ollie
Ollie
Islap my palms against my mouth as I shake.
I can’t moan, I can’t whine, I can’t make a single freaking noise as I peek around the wall again.
As soon as I left the kitchen and entered the living room, I hid behind the corner to see what Timber would do. Because his moan was so criminally sexy that I’m ready to become a beat cop so I can cuff him and make him tell me where it hurts.
My pussy is wet, my slick hot, and I’m perfuming so hard I choke on my own scent, but I can’t move. It doesn’t matter how much I know it’s a bad decision. I’ve just seen Timber Holtz come in his pants, and I want to give him another hand.
The sight of him padding around the counter to stand in full view is insane. He doesn’t stop or think as he shoves down his slacks, exposing his rock-hard ass and his cock.
I clench my teeth together to stop my feral whimper as he grabs the ladle and starts scooping.
With one beefy hand around his cock, one deep ladle up to his mouth, he extends his tongue to lick it as he groans.
“Oh God,” I whisper as he thrusts his hips, oatmeal dripping from his mouth and covering his pillowy chest.
Since he’s reacting like that to my slick mistake, how will he sound if I grab his head and bury his face in my pussy?
If he finds me, then fuck it. He can decide what he wants to do with my hard nipples and my aching pussy.
I need relief, and there’s an alpha right there.
All my common sense has been drop-kicked out the window because he’s vacuuming up my oatmeal, and there’s a better place he can use those sucking skills.
Timber is so wrapped up in it that he won’t notice my muffled cries, right? I’ve already crossed the line, so I should just keep running.
My hand creeps under my pants as I take another peek at Timber thrusting.
I spread my pussy, using my middle finger to slowly stroke down, gathering slick, wetting my clit, curving my back like I’m presenting to him.
He’s always unresponsive and uninterested in me when I flirt, and now his ass is out, pumping away.
Pushing my palm harder against my mouth, my hips rock back and forth.
I’m going to come so quickly I don’t know if I can deal. But the idea of him catching me here is even hotter than watching him fuck his hand.
I’m panting, gasping, licking at my fingers like it’s his cock as I glance back around the corner. I want to take him deep in my mouth so I can get that zing of coffee-flavored cum and make all my omega dreams come true.
Or, almost all of them, because there’s a lavender-scented alpha out there I want to taste as well.
I don’t want to finger myself. I want to leave myself craving as a punishment for doing this to him.
Yeah, maybe it’s not really my fault my slick fell in the pan, but he doesn’t deserve to be stuck in a position where he’s grunting and rutting like a sexy beast. Because what does it mean for us?
If he’s reacting like that, then maybe it would take a nudge, or two, or maybe three for him to realize we’re scent matches.
If I could get in front of the oven and replace his hand with my mouth, he could nudge his cock in and out as many times as he needs for him to see me.
Timber lets out a shout, and I glance back around the wall. My palm falls, and I jolt as a thick stream of cum shoots from his cock and hits the oven, and he moans so loudly that a lightning bolt fires into my body.
My thighs spasm, and I pull them in close as I speed up my strokes. I’m nearly there.
I just want Timber to suck on my nipples or my clit or touch me with his huge hands.
Even watching him scrabble around trying to clean up in a panic is too much. My eyes roll as my orgasm rips through me, and my legs shudder right there on the floor.
I bite my lip, praying to the God of Orgasms that I can shut the fuck up so the 200 lb hockey player doesn’t storm around the corner and see I’m really an omega gasping for his cock.
Everything I've done to balance out my gender and designation so no one can label me, and look at me.
But it’s too good, it’s so right, and the smallest groan rumbles in the base of my throat as I keep pushing even when it’s too sensitive. I need the ache. I want the pain as well as the pleasure.
All the stuff about him finding me is just talk, because the post-nut clarity is real. And I need to get out of here.
Or I could give in to my desires and go out there and spread my slick over his lips and send him into a rut. One fuck would be enough, just to calm down my omega side and get me to a more stable place where I can focus on my job and not how much I want his big, thick cock to ram me until I scream.