Chapter 6 #3
“Is he cheating on your sister or something?” The beta snorts. “Most of the guys here are fucking a prostitute.”
I have the distinct impression that Beckham isn’t that kind of person.
“Not this one,” I reply. “He’s tall, athletic, and an omega. I’m not sure if he checked in under his real name or not.”
I’m repeating earlier information that I’ve given him because he's been too focused on his dick to process what I was saying before.
“Yeah, we only have one male omega who isn’t currently on the clock, if you know what I mean,” he says, pulling a key card and coding it.
“I better not find out that you’ve given this key to anyone else,” I growl. This was too easy, regardless of the fact that my gun is trained on the asshole. My omega isn’t safe here, and I hate it.
“No, I wouldn’t do that,” the guy says. There is a little name tag on his stained shirt that says that his name is Martin. When he stands, I can see his gut slightly hanging over his pants as he shifts uncomfortably.
I bet a load of cum in your boxers isn’t fun, contest or not.
“Since I’m not going to win this endurance competition, I’m going to get changed,” he grumbles. “My boxers are starting to stick to my skin. It’s room one-twenty.”
Sliding the card along the counter toward me, he walks like he has a stick up his ass as he disappears into the back room.
“There’s something wrong with the world.” I sigh, picking up the key and putting my gun away.
Leaving the front lobby, I begin walking toward the large loop of rooms. There’s only one floor, and the middle area appears to be marked for housekeeping and maintenance purposes.
Finding the room, I push open the door slowly, straining to hear signs of anyone inside it. Taking a chance, I step inside, where I’m hit in the face with the scent of honey and vanilla.
“Oh fuck,” I groan, shutting the door behind me. I know that Alaric would be pissed if he knew I was here, but it would be worth it for him to beat my ass over this.
I’ve been living half a life without being able to see and smell Beckham.
Taking the time to snoop, I begin to go through his shit. There’s a formal invitation to a party sitting on the table, and I take a photo of it. It’s at his house, which makes me wonder how much longer he’ll be able to get away with wallowing in this cesspit.
The paint appears to be peeling in the room, the mattress is lumpy when I sit on it, and his clothes are everywhere. The usually orderly professor appears to be having a mental breakdown.
Since it’s because of us, I suppose we’ll need to help put him back together.
Grumbling to myself that I need to actually be able to spend time with him to debunk whatever nonsense lives in his head about my pack, I find a pile of clothes where his scent is the strongest.
Groaning as I realize that he’s worn these, I find a pair of boxers and smother my face with them. I can smell the light scent of sweat along with his natural omega one, and my eyes nearly cross as my cock presses against my zipper.
If he wants to leave us, run away like a coward and hide, then it’s only fair that I leave him a gift. He needs to know that he can run all the way to the farthest ends of the earth, and we would still find him.
My alphas and I are possessive, petty, and passionate. I just need Beckham to be willing to give us a chance. I bet we’d have fun together.
Unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans, I release my cock as I push my pants down my hips. My leather riding jacket is tossed to the side as I sit on the edge of the bed, ready to hide if the door opens. Right now, I could potentially hide in the bathroom if I needed to.
Shoving the boxers against my face again, I suck in his scent before looking around for something to use as lube. I’m going to take every liberty in this room, and I can’t bring myself to care about how much I’m invading his space.
I want him to know I was here, smelling me on his bedsheets but not know why. I need him to spiral to the point that he seeks us out to yell at us. Fuck.
Beckham Kennedy is so damn sexy when he loses his cool. The tick of his jaw, the blush of anger along his cheeks...
Fuck the lube. My cock is leaking precum like a faucet, and I wrap my hand around it, squeezing it hard enough to make me grunt. I love riding the edge between pain and pleasure.
I think about Beckham telling me to kneel in front of him to suck his cock, and as I breathe in his scent from his boxers, I imagine him yanking on my dark curls to pull my mouth closer to him. I can almost fucking taste how good his cock would be.
“Yes,” I grunt, my hips thrusting up into my fist as I cork screw my palm around my shaft.
I wonder if he’d let me cut along his cock, so I can taste his blood along with his slick. The thought of it is enough to make my knot ache, and I desperately want to bite my omega.
One day, he’ll be mine.
My release hits me so hard, I drop back into the mattress, yelling as I use Beckham’s boxers to contain my ropes of cum.
“Holy…damn,” I gasp, breathing hard. I made sure to angle my cock forward so that I wouldn’t get cum all over my shirt, and I use the soft fabric of the boxers to clean up with.
Hope you like my little present.
Getting up, I drop Beckham’s boxers where I found them, and fix my pants. Something makes me move faster, an itch along my neck that tells me that time is about to run out. Pulling on my riding jacket, I also pick up the invite to the party, despite taking a photo of it.
I don’t want to be turned away if I need the physical copy of it. I know I’ll have to run this by my father, but I’ll worry about that when I’m on my bike on the way home.
Pulling open the door to the hallway, I glance out and hear Beckham’s deep voice as he walks.
“Dad.” He groans, turning his back to me as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
Taking the opportunity to make a run for it, I cross my fingers that the door across the hall is unlocked. Thankfully, the door opens easily, and I slide into the open space, making sure to leave it slightly ajar so I can continue to listen to Beckham.
Every word, the cadence of his voice, I memorize it all so that I can remember it later. I have it bad, and I don’t care.
“No, I promise.” Beckham sighs. “I’ll be by the house to get dressed for the party. I know how important it is.”
Taking in my surroundings, I see that I’m in the maintenance hallway, and I’m also alone. It’s sterile, quiet, and perfect for snooping on my omega.
Leaning toward the crack in the door, I continue to listen to his rich, deep voice that sounds completely wrecked. It’s clear that he’s not sleeping well, and probably drinking too much too.
“Dad,” Beckham complains. “I’ve memorized every important person that I’m supposed to talk to at this thing. I’m not going to embarrass you.”
Jabbing his key card across the scanner, he pushes open the door before stiffening.
My work is done here. Allowing the door to fully close, I push my hands into my pockets as I walk out of the hotel, using the service entrance to keep from being seen. I’m even whistling under my breath as I get back to my bike.
I wait until I’m on the road, headed to my pack house before I use the Bluetooth in my helmet to call my dad.
“Tate, what kind of shit are you getting up to?” He growls.
The invite is safely hidden away in a compartment of my bike, making my lips twitch at how well my father knows me.
“Not a damn thing, but I did find where my omega has hidden himself. Dad, he’s going to a party tomorrow night at Edgar’s house. Is this something I’m allowed to crash?” I ask.
Dad is silent for a moment before he grunts, “It’s a business thing for the mafia families to get better acquainted. I’m supposed to attend, but I suppose your pack could go with me. You’ll need to dress the part, Tatum.”
“I have suits.” I chuckle as I turn at a green light. I have tunnel vision, and my every thought is going to be about the party and seeing my omega.
“Don’t make me regret this.” He grumbles.
“Dad, something is wrong with him. I can’t prove it, but Beckham is scared of something. Since you know that we would never hurt him, I need to find out what it is. The party will help me figure out who is responsible for hurting him.”
“Well, if that’s true, then I can’t say I don’t feel bad for that person. They’ll deserve whatever is coming for them,” Dad says. “Play the long game, son. Don’t show your cards too soon.”
“You got it,” I promise, pulling into the driveway. “I’m just getting home. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yeah. Listen, let’s cool it on the fights, Tatum. You’re scaring the other fighters,” he says.
“Then they should probably have better trainers.” I chuckle. “Bye, Dad.”
Disconnecting the call as he snorts, I put away the bike and my helmet before walking up the walkway and letting myself into my home.
“Hello!” I call out, closing the door behind me.
“About damn time.” Jamie grumbles. “Alaric made me wait to eat dinner. You’re lucky the pizza isn’t cold.”
“Aww,” I tease him, walking over to kiss him hard. He’s a baby when he’s hungry. Handing him the invite I made sure to grab from the bike, I shrug. “Would it help if I told you we’re going to get to see Beckham tomorrow night?”
“Fuck yes it does. You’re forgiven,” Jamie says, grabbing a plate and sitting at the table.
Alaric raises his brow as he opens the box of piping hot pizza, craning his neck to read the invite.
“How did you manage that?” he asks.
“Magic.” I grin, pulling a slice of pizza onto a plate and sitting down. Pretending to fist bump my pizza against Jamie’s, I shrug. “I have to say that the universe is doing its thing, and we just happen to be reaping the benefits. This thing is black tie by the way.”
“The universe can suck my dick,” Alaric complains as he takes a vicious bite of his pizza.
Man, I love these guys.