Chapter 8 #2
Cunt tightening, throbbing, clit screaming for release, I beg. “Please.”
Sawyer growls and pushes his hips up as he drags me over his body, and that’s the pressure I need to explode. Pleasure shreds through me, ripping me into a million pieces as my mouth parts in a cry that echoes through the room.
The world tilts on its axis, stars fall from the sky and rush across my vision. I melt against him, breathing heavily and humming in approval. The alpha pants beneath me, tension vibrating through the hands holding my ass, as if he’s fighting his instincts.
I breathe deep, savoring his . . . Oh my god, the pheromones!
Sitting up straight, my eyes widen as I stare at him, my mouth falling open. We’re in the house. On the couch. I’m straddling him. I just . . . got off on him. His pupils are blown and his jaw muscles ripple. Did he come? The deepest baritone rumble emits from his chest.
Heat walks up my neck. I practically attacked him. “I’m so sorry,” I say, moving to crawl off of him, but he grips me tighter.
“Stay.” His voice is gravelly and rough.
I gulp, my gaze roving over his strained features. “Are you okay?”
“Stay.”
I tip my head. “Dilated pupils. Inability to form sentences. Richening scent.” I gasp. “Rut! You’re close to falling into a rut.”
He takes a breath, more like forces the oxygen into his lungs, and another growl tumbles past his lips. Adrenaline surges through me.
Leaning closer, I peer into those onyx pupils. “Blink twice if you’re about to rut.”
He goes completely still, and I brace myself for whatever comes next . . . until the growl is replaced with a deep belly laugh. His pupils contract, irises expanding across the expanse of black. As tension bleeds from his body, I marvel at the sudden transformation.
“So that’s a no, then?”
His eyes crinkle. “Liv,” he says around a laugh. “Blink twice?”
I bristle. “I thought you’d gone non-verbal, which can happen in during a ru—”
“Please stop saying rut,” he says, fingers flexing on my ass. “I had planned to ask you how it was going without scent control . . .”
“You’re the first person I’ve”—I clear my throat—“for lack of a better word, attacked. I’m sorry.” My eyes widen. “Is your pack here?” What if they witnessed the mauling? Mortification ripples through me.
Sawyer cups my chin and smooths his thumb over my cheek. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I made sure the pack had something to do tonight, since it’s only our second date. Fake date,” he quickly corrects. “Either way, I’m happy if you’re happy. Feeling better?”
“Much.” I don’t fill him in on the problem banging around in my mind.
Why was my reaction so strong with him, and not with other people?
Why did the scent of his pack send me into overdrive?
I’ve been around different smells all week, though, admittedly, today is the most I’ve been able to detect them.
This can all probably be attributed to the way I feel around Sawyer.
My body knows he can and will provide both safety and pleasure.
Combine that knowledge with his scent and, apparently, it makes me horny and unpredictable.
As for his pack . . . well. Our scents are compatible.
The realization whispers through my mind, and my heart skips a beat. This isn’t a real relationship, Liv. He’s only here because you begged him to teach you how to be a good omega.
What happens if he knots me and I like it?
What happens when he’s ready to be done playing professor?
What if his packmates hate me?
Sawyer’s nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. “What are you thinking?”
“Science,” I blurt, sliding off his lap, grabbing my purse from the floor.
I don’t remember dropping it, but I was focused fully on him for a few minutes there.
Notepad in hand, I click my pen and scribble some notes, losing myself in something familiar, so I can stop worrying about whether I’m capable of no strings attached.
“Science,” he says with a hum. “And what, exactly, about it?”
“Our scents are compatible,” I say, focusing on a point above his head.
If I look at him, I might climb right back into his lap, and that wouldn't be very no-strings of me. “Which is good, given that we’ll be progressing to knotting soon.” When I find my pack, shouldn’t I know how to please more than one mate at a time?
Sawyer makes a strangled noise.
My gaze drifts to meet his. “Are you okay?”
His cheeks are bright red. “Fine.”
Maybe he doesn’t want to knot me. My scent sours, and I slip my attention to the spot just above his head. “Nature makes pheromones for a reason. It’s how animals communicate, mate, and reproduce. Given that I enjoy your scent, it’s reasonable to conclude that you like mine.”
“I do,” he confirms, standing.
I shift my gaze to avoid looking at him. This has to remain clinical. “Right. So, as we progress, at least there won’t be a natural resistance interfering with the research.”
Sawyer steps toward me. “Liv?”
The spot I'm staring at is dirty. “Do you know that you need to clean your walls?”
He moves into my line of vision. “Liv, look at me.”
Pressing my lips together, I take a breath and crane my neck, steeling myself for the intensity of his scent. Sawyer eases in. Cinnamon and sugar coil around me. My knees weaken.
His eyes bounce between mine, and he cups my face with his hands. “Have I ever told you I hate science?”
My eyebrows slam together. “You hate science?”
He nods. “It can be cold.”
What is he saying? “But it’s everything. It’s how the world works, it’s logic, it’s reason, it’s—”
“Everything you’re saying is true, but you know what science doesn’t have?”
“What?”
“Emotion.”
“That’s not true. Scientists have been studying emotions and the human experience.”
“I think we’re missing the point,” he murmurs, lowering his face toward mine. Our lips are inches apart. The air between us fizzles and crackles, almost electric. “You’re so smart, Liv.”
I swallow. “Thank you.”
“Tell me what you feel.” His thumb drags over my bottom lip, and my stomach quivers, pulse skyrocketing.
“Excited.”
He nods. “And now?” He comes even closer, our noses bumping and his scent blanketing me.
The answer to his question lies in my slick-coated panties. The warmth in my belly. The ache in my core. My breath trembles, and I lick my lips, delight zapping through me when his eyes fall to my mouth.
“Tell me, Liv.” It’s a whispered demand, but it could be an alpha bark for all intents and purposes.
“Desire,” I rasp, fingers grasping at his shirt, mind demanding that I smash myself against him and never let go.
“Do you want me to kiss you?”
“For science?”
His lips quirk. “Sure, baby, for science.”
“Please.” The word is a soft, trembling sound that would make me want to die of embarrassment if not for his immediate purr.
Sawyer captures my lips, and hypotheses, cognitive analysis, and self-control slip from my hand like sand.
His tongue traces the seam of my mouth, and I part my lips, gasping as he takes the advantage, snaring me with strokes that make my head spin and my heart sing.
I soften and press my body against his. His erection is so hard.
I reach down, wrapping my fingers around it over his joggers.
Thick. Big. Mine. With a throaty groan, he breaks away and pulls in a deep breath.
“Fuck.”
I lick my lips, chasing his taste. My hand is still on his cock. I squeeze. “Is that a good fuck? Do you want to knot me?”
Sawyer nods, his gaze drawing back to mine, throat bobbing. “I want to go slow, okay?”
“I’m okay with that.”
“Good. I never thought I’d say this, but please take your hand off my dick.”
“Oh.” I recoil as if I’d touched a burner. “Oh my god, I did it again.”
“Again, I’m not complaining, and as much as I love you touching it, this is about you, not me.”
“Technically, it is.” This whole thing is about me learning how to please my pack.
He laughs and shakes his head. “How about we watch a movie? Snuggling might feel different now that you can smell me . . .”
“I promise not to touch your dick,” I say solemnly. We can hang out without anything physical, right? I’m stronger than my desires. I can behave.
Narrator: the omega did not behave.
We started off side by side, and at some point, I’m not really sure when, I ended up between his legs, my back resting against his torso and his arms nestled under my breasts. Sawyer is holding me, but as we watch another holiday rom-com, I can’t help wondering how many others he’s held this way.
“Liv,” he murmurs. “Care to tell me what made your scent sour?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
He hums. “Are all smart people bad liars?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Nothing you think is stupid. What’s wrong?”
I chew on my lip. Telling him might be oversharing, but before he agreed to teach me how to be a good omega, he was a friend. Well, sort of. He’s my brother’s best friend. We talked, though, got along, even hung out from time to time when we were younger.
He pauses the show. “You don’t have to share, but a good alpha will always want to know what’s upsetting his omega.”
His omega. Those words sound so good, and logically, it makes sense. This is a learning experience, and that includes understanding all the feelings that come during this process.
“I guess . . . I guess I was jealous? I don’t know.”
“Of what?”
“The other omegas you’ve held like this.”
Silence suspends between us, a tightrope ready to snap. That was probably too much to share.
His hold loosens. My heart sinks, but then his palms grip my ribs, fingers barely brushing the underside of my breasts.
“Jealousy is natural for an omega, actually for any member of a pack. We’re all territorial. We don’t like the idea of someone else being able to take what we perceive as ours.”
“But you’re not mine,” I tell him.
“For the sake of . . . science, let's say I was. When an alpha realizes his omega is jealous, they can do one of two things.” One palm drifts up between my tits, cupping my throat.
My heart hammers. “What are the two things?”
Sawyer strokes my neck. “A bad alpha will make you feel worse. Maybe even give reasons to make that jealousy grow.”
“That sounds terrible.”
He hums in agreement. “But a good alpha”—his other hand moves up to cup my breast—“will reassure his omega.” He squeezes the soft mound of flesh, kneading it. “He’ll take care of them.” He pinches my nipple.
I gasp and arch into his touch. “Oh.”
“He’ll make sure his omega knows that they're the only omega that matters.” He squeezes my throat gently as his other hand drifts down my body, leaving my aching boobs and sliding down my torso.
Heat swoops after his touch, descending to one spot that’s begging for attention. “How does an alpha do that?” I watch with rapt attention as his fingers slide just beneath the band of my pants, my entire body trembling in anticipation.
“I think we both know,” he says. “Are you ready for your next lesson?”
“Yes, alpha.”
He purrs, fingers caressing through the wet heat in my center. “Fuuuuck, you’re so wet for me, omega.” Sawyer cups me, applying a delightful pressure to my aching nerves. I buck into his hold, rubbing against his palm.
Two fingers tease my entrance, but he gathers up my slick and drags them through my folds, forcing the moisture over my pulsing clit. His touch is electric, and I jolt, rocking against him.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “You need your alpha, don’t you?”
A whine lodges in my throat, body trembling with how much I want.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his thumb replacing his digits as they glide down, barely dipping inside of me.
His cock pulses against my ass, and I grind back against it.
He groans and sinks his fingers into my pussy.
This stretch is so much more rewarding than any of my vibrators.
His warmth. His heat. The way his breathing grows heavy with mine. It’s everything.
“Perfect,” he praises. “Fucking perfect.” His thumb traces circles around my clit as he pumps into me.
Unintelligible sounds fall from my lips. I grasp the material covering his thighs, but he tsks and releases my throat to guide my arms up, placing my hands at the back of his neck. My back bows.
“Just like that for me,” he coaches, cupping my left breast as he continues to finger me. “Look at how pretty you are now, Liv.”
Tremors run through me, my hips rolling to meet the thrusting of his fingers.
“Good, that’s good. Show me how much you need it.”
“So much,” I confess.
He purrs in approval and redoubles his efforts. Teasing me, pinching my nipples, kneading away the sting, stroking my walls. Then his fingers curl inside of me, brushing a spot I thought only my vibrator could reach.
“Please,” I beg.
“Shhh.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Will you come for your alpha?”
I nod, whining as the sensations begin to almost hurt, too much to handle, but Sawyer doesn’t let up. He guides me through until there’s nothing left but his fingers, his touch, his praise.
A throaty scream tears through the room. Sawyer’s chest is rumbling like a V-8 engine. My panting fills the air.
His lips brush over the shell of my ear. “For the record, Liv, I haven’t been able to think about anything but you since the movie started.”
My heart trembles.
I’m in danger.