Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Mijo, when are you coming home next?”
Shifting my shoulder to hold my phone against my ear, I fumble with my keys as I try to unlock my apartment. Bags of groceries overload my arms, so of course, this is the moment my mamá called. Her timing is as immaculate as ever.
“I don’t know, Mamá. As soon as I have time.”
Her sigh fills my heart with guilt, but I quickly brush it off.
It’s not that I avoid going home. I’m there every other week, at least. Weekly, if work and the weather allow for it.
This week she planned to set me up with her friend’s daughter, but a last-minute heat-helping gig canceled my plans to drive down to their house.
She’s determined that I find love. My approaching forty has made her even more persistent than usual.
Do I want one or more partners to share my life with? Yes.
Is the woman she’s set me up with likely to be the one? No.
Many of mamá’s friends have children close to my age. I’ve met several of them. The few who have taken an interest in me were only using me to get closer to the bands I work with. Why settle for a Beta music producer when they could hook up with rock stars?
“Es de carino, Emmanuel.”
She cares, I know that, but I wish she could see that her definition of happiness isn’t the same as mine.
I am happy. My life may not be perfect, but it’s enough for me.
I wake up every day and go to work at my dream job.
Friends and family fill my spare time. There isn’t an incessant drive in me to find more.
“I’ll try to come down next weekend,” I agree, trying to pacify her. I hate worrying her. She should enjoy life as an abuela, not chase after her grown children.
Her voice fills my tiny kitchen as I unpack my groceries, sharing the latest gossip from the community back home.
She has an ear in everything. From unplanned pregnancies to personal finances, the woman can sniff out a secret from a mile away.
It was awful when I was a teenager, because I never got away with anything.
Even now, she’ll crack me across my head if she thinks I’m acting poorly.
A notification interrupts her story. Sliding my phone closer, I see a message from the Heat Helper app. Apparently, it’s go time. The Omega’s heat is starting, so I need to move my ass. “Lo siento, Mamá, I have to go. I’ll call you again in a few days!”
She grumbles, but quickly hangs up. I toss the rest of my food into the fridge and head into my bedroom to grab the go-bag I keep for these situations. It has extra clothes, toiletries, and lube. All the things I’ll need for a few days away from home.
My rideshare drops me off at one of the fancier hotels in the area.
This Alpha-Omega duo must be well off. I wonder why they haven’t expanded their pack.
Not that single pairings are a bad thing.
Many couples choose to mate monogamously, but it is more difficult for a single Alpha to satisfy an Omega during their heat.
Not without the use of suppressants, which isn’t recommended long-term.
The front desk gives me a keycard coded to work on the elevator reserved for heat suites.
I take it to the upper floors and find the door I’m looking for.
Nerves make my hands shake as I knock twice.
I could open it, but it’s polite to wait until you receive an invitation.
The door swings open a moment later, revealing a tall, well-built Alpha.
His strawberry-blonde hair is short, and a fine layer of stubble covers his jaw.
He’s handsome, with striking golden-brown eyes that pierce through me.
“You must be Manny.” He offers me his hand, gripping firmly as I shake it. “I’m Shepherd. Come on in.”
Stepping through the door, I’m surrounded by his bergamot and sandalwood scent. It’s masculine and woody, perfectly suiting his toned but rugged exterior. My dick starts to swell in my jeans, and I know I’m cooked. If the Alpha smells this good, how will I react to his Omega?
I set my bag on the small couch in the main area and accept the physical contract he hands me.
It’s routine for the Beta helper to review limits with the Omega, but that changes when working with a bonded pair.
We generally trust the Alpha to know what is best for their mate, but I still double-check to be certain.
Without knowing the history between these two men, I cannot blindly trust Shepherd.
That type of thinking is how victims of forced matings are missed.
My eyes flicker over the words until the nest door opens.
I’m awestruck as his Omega saunters in. He’s a little taller than I am, and much leaner.
Dark curls cover his head, blending in with the neatly trimmed hair along his jaw.
Plush lips part when he stops to stare at me.
Brilliant light-blue eyes shine like jewels, filling with heat as they sweep over my body. I shiver, getting impossibly harder.
“Hello,” I choke out, my voice cracking. “I’m Manny. Your heat helper.”
Those kissable lips lift into a smirk, and he steps closer, pressing himself against his Alpha’s side.
“I’m Foster.” He’s dressed only in a pair of dark boxers that do little to hide how turned on he is.
Honey-covered lemons fill the air, overpowering Shepherd’s scent, and I barely smother a groan. His scent is delicious!
Clearing my throat, I force my gaze back to the contract. “Your Alpha has already listed your limits, but I’d like to make sure they’re accurate.” I see him nod from the corner of my eye, so we spend the next few minutes going over everything.
Our timing is perfect, because his scent swells as we finish, and his skin flushes.
Shepherd turns and lifts Foster into his arms, large palms gripping the other man’s ass.
“May we enter your nest, Omega?” he grunts, pausing at the doorway.
Foster’s hips jerk as he grinds against his Alpha’s stomach.
He moans, shakes his head, and mutters a quick invitation before burying his face against Shepherd’s neck.
I kick off my shoes and follow them inside, choosing to sit along the outer edge of the nest. They will let me know when they need me to join them. Until then, I will enjoy their dynamic from afar.
Small strips of moonlight slip through the gauzy curtains blocking the windows. They’re the only light in the room, casting thick shadows. I’m still sitting at the edge of the nest, watching both men sleep a few feet away. Is it creepy? Maybe. But I can’t seem to take my eyes off them.
Watching Shepherd fuck his mate was the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed, and I’ve been helping with heats for over a decade. There’s something about the way they care for each other. The devotion in every tiny interaction.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.
A whimper fills the air seconds before Foster shifts, Shepherd’s dick slipping out of him.
I drop to my knees and crawl to them, palm rubbing up the Omega’s back.
He’s slipping into another wave, but he won’t need a knot yet.
This is my moment to step in. To satisfy him so his Alpha can get some rest before he has to wake up for another mini-marathon.
“Come here, Galán. Let me take care of you.” Hazy eyes turn to look at me, and he climbs from Shepherd’s lap and into my arms. His skin burns against mine, feverish from the heat.
I thread my fingers through his hair and gently grip his skull, tilting his head down until his lips brush against mine.
My touch is teasing. Simple brushes, no firmer than a feather being dragged across bare skin.
Slow and steady wins the race when you’re prolonging a heat-riddled Omega’s pleasure.
His hard length grinds against my stomach, leaking slick over my shirt until he claws at the material and rips it over my head.
A groan slips through my lips when I feel his skin pressed to mine.
Dancing my fingers down his chest, I pinch one of his nipples, rolling the bud until he whimpers.
Pushing against his torso, I shift him to lie against the cushioned bottom of the nest. His chest rises and falls in rapid beats, a rhythm that makes my fingers twitch with the desire to record it.
The soundtrack from his heat would be my greatest creation.
My lips meet his chest, trailing across his fevered skin until I reach his nipple.
I swirl my tongue around it, lapping gently before taking it between my teeth.
Nipping kisses litter his abs as I shift my body down, getting closer to his gorgeous, flushed dick.
He hisses out a breath when I take him in my hand, sucking the tip between my lips to get my first taste of him.
Sweet lemons and buttery crust. Just as delectable as his scent.
“Yes,” he moans, hips thrusting to push more of him into my mouth. I let him use me, hand dropping to tease his balls before sinking lower. Rivers of slick soak his thighs and ass, coating my fingers enough to allow me to press two into his tight little hole with ease. “F-fuck!”
Curling the digits, I match the rhythm of his hips until he starts to stutter.
I take over then, keeping the ruthless pace and sending him hurtling over the edge.
Cum fills my mouth, leaking out around his cock.
Omegas always come a lot, and this is the first time I’ve mourned the loss of someone’s release.