Chapter 11
Eleven
ELIAS
My fingers tighten around Francine’s slender arm, and I feel her pulse thrumming beneath my touch.
She’s horny, I can smell it. The cherry scent of her arousal hits me in waves. My cock rises in my pants, straining to be let free and to rut her good.
I can’t let her leave, not yet, not when every fiber of my being is screaming at me to claim her, to taste her, to discover if she’s as sweet as her beautiful scent.
“Francine, wait,” I hear myself say, my voice rough with desire.
She turns to me, eyes wide and plump red lips slightly parted. She looks so cute. Her cheeks are flushed, her breasts rising and falling with rapid breaths, and it’s almost more than I can bear.
My cock throbs insistently, demanding to claim her.
“Is there... something else you need?” she says quietly as more of her scent covers me.
The innocent question sends blood rushing to my groin.
Yes, there’s something else I fuckin’ need.
I need her bent over my bed, as I bury my face between her thighs.
I need to taste her open pussy and for her slick to drench my tongue.
I need to sink my dick deep inside her and knot her tight, filling her with my seed until she’s crying my name, barefoot and pregnant.
Breathing hard, I force myself to release my grip on her arm. I’m not ready to break the connection between us.
“Your stockings,” I say, my gaze dropping to her legs. “They’re beautiful.”
She looks down, blushing and at a loss for words. Her white stockings cling to her shapely legs, disappearing beneath the hem of her dress. The contrast of the crisp white fabric against her creamy skin is mesmerizing. I imagine running my hands up those long legs, cupping her ass.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, shifting her weight slightly. The movement causes her dress to sway, offering a fleeting glimpse of where her stockings meet her thighs. My mouth goes dry.
She’s tall for an omega, but still delicately built compared to my alpha frame. Her slender neck, her delicate wrists, her narrow waist scream vulnerability, awakening my most primal instincts to protect, to possess, to dominate.
And her scent. Holy fuck, her scent.
Her scent blockers aren’t working right now at all. I can clearly smell her natural cherry blossom scent breaking through, betraying how horny she is. It’s sweeter than anything I’ve ever smelled.
The alpha in me wants to pin her against the wall, tear away those pristine stockings, and bury my face in her pussy until she’s screaming.
Until she’s squirting all over my face. Until she’s mine.
I take a step closer, drawn by a force I can’t resist.
Her cherry blossom scent grows stronger, headier, as though her body is responding to how close I am. She’s getting hornier. My nostrils flare as I inhale deeply, letting her essence fill my lungs.
She’s intoxicating. Addictive.
“Your scent,” I murmur, leaning in until my lips nearly brush her ear. “It’s breaking through the blockers. Did you know that?”
“I applied them thoroughly after my shower. I followed all the instructions.”
“Some omegas are like that, I heard,” I explain, forcing my academic side to take control. “Their natural scent is too potent for commercial blockers to fully suppress. Especially when they’re... aroused.”
Her breath catches at the last word, and the scent of her slick intensifies, confirming my observation. My cock twitches in response, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to maintain my composure.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asks, clearly trying to redirect the conversation away from my curiosity about her. But the slight tremor in her voice gives her away.
I should say no. I should let her go and listen to Kieran. But the alpha in me growls at the thought of releasing this perfect omega who smells like she was made for me. For our pack.
“Actually,” I say slowly, wondering if this is a fucking bad idea. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me with something.”
Her eyes dart to my bandaged hand. “Your injury? Do you need help changing the bandage?”
“No, not that,” I say, gesturing toward the still-open drawer with its colorful array of toys. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to try one. To test it.”
Her eyes widen, lips parting in shock. For a moment, I think I’ve gone too far, that she’ll bolt from the room. But she remains rooted in place, her gaze flicking between my face and the drawer.
“You want me to... test a sex toy?” she asks, her voice higher than usual.
I realize how it sounds, how predatory I must seem, and immediately try to soften my approach.
“For research purposes,” I explain, falling back on the academic persona that’s served me well in business negotiations. “I’ve been collecting these for our future omega, but I’ve never had anyone test them to provide feedback on their effectiveness.”
It’s a flimsy excuse, and we both know it. But it gives her an out, a way to frame this as something other than my desperate attempt to see her pussy and fill her completely.
Her face flushes a deeper shade of pink, the color spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her dress. I wonder how far down that blush extends. Does it reach her breasts? Her belly? The thought makes my cock twitch again.
“I don’t know,” she says, biting her lower lip. “I’ve never... I mean, I don’t really have much experience with...”
Her embarrassment is endearing, arousing in its innocence.
But beneath it, I can see curiosity in the way her eyes keep drifting to the drawer, in how her breathing has quickened.
Her nipples have hardened, pressing visibly against the fabric of her dress, and the scent of her slick grows stronger with each passing second.
She wants this as much as I do.
“You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable,” I assure her, though it kills me to say it. “I just thought, since you saw them anyway...”
She takes a deep breath, then meets my gaze directly. “Which one?”
For a moment, I’m too stunned to respond. I expected more resistance, more hesitation. Not this willing surrender that sends a jolt of pure lust straight to my groin.
“You’ll do it?” I confirm, needing to hear her say yes.
She nods, her cheeks still flushed but her gaze steady. “I’m curious too if they work. It’s just research, right?”
“Just research,” I agree, lying for both of us. There’s nothing professional about how desperately I want to see her squirt all over my bed.
I lead her to the drawer, my hand on the small of her back, guiding her closer to the display of toys. My eyes scan the collection, considering each option. The dildos would be too much for a first encounter. The vibrators too intense. The restraints... tempting, but not yet.
My gaze settles on a small velvet box tucked toward the back.
Inside are two polished steel balls, gleaming and heavy, connected by a thin silicone string.
Ben wa balls. They’re designed to be inserted and worn discreetly, providing a constant, teasing pressure that will make her horny beyond belief.
Perfect.
I imagine her wearing them for hours, feeling them shift inside her with every movement, growing wetter and more desperate as the day progresses. By the time she removes them, she’d be practically begging to be filled properly, to be knotted as she comes into my room in the middle of the night.
“These,” I decide, watching her reaction carefully as I pick up the box, turning it over in my hand.
Her brow furrows as she peers at the metallic spheres. “Oh, these?”
“Ben wa balls,” I explain, keeping my voice clinical, fighting against my raging need to bend her over right now. “They’re designed to be inserted vaginally and worn throughout the day.”
“Oh,” she breathes, her voice small, her scent spikes the air again.
“They’re particularly effective for omegas,” I continue, warming to my subject. “The constant stimulation mimics the pressure of an alpha’s knot so that you can get used to a knot inside of you for long periods of time.”
She reaches for the box, her fingers brushing mine as she takes it. “I could... try them and let you know,” she offers hesitantly. “For your research.”
I shake my head, already imagining my fingers sliding into her slick heat.
“I should insert them for you,” I growl, my voice dropping lower. “I need to make sure they’re inside properly. For me to learn.”
“Are you sure? Kieran would be furious if he knew,” she says, blinking nervously.
Kieran isn’t here. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“He won’t know,” I assure her, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Unless you tell him.”
She doesn’t respond verbally, but the way she clutches the box tighter, the way her pupils dilate, and her scent getting stronger with desire is all the answer I need.
She wants this. She wants me.
I close the drawer with a decisive click, my eyes never leaving Francine’s face. Her breathing is shallow, her lips parted slightly, and I can see the pulse jumping in her throat. I’m rock hard just thinking about what’s about to happen, my cock straining painfully against my slacks.
“Turn around,” I instruct her, my voice low and commanding. “Bend over the dresser.”
She licks her lips nervously, the pink tip of her tongue darting out to moisten them. I imagine that tongue wrapped around my cock, lapping at the head as pre-cum beads at the tip.
My rock-hard erection throbs just thinking about that.
One day, I’ll shove my dick deep into her mouth.
She moves slowly, turning her back to me. Her hands tremble slightly as she places them on the edge of the dresser, bending forward at the waist. Her white dress stretches tight across her ass as she assumes the position, and I have to stifle a groan.
“Like this?” she asks, her voice small and breathless.
“Perfect,” I murmur, approaching her from behind.
As I stand this close to her, I can feel the heat radiating from her body. Each breath I take is saturated with her, feeding my alpha wolf raging within me.