Chapter Twenty-Three
The next week at school, Roy slides into my booth in the cafeteria and smacks his tray down, a maniacal look on his face.
“Holy shit. Connor Masters is your mate.”
I haven’t seen or talked to Connor, but I’ve heard reports. News spread quickly after he showed up to class with his mark and my scent on full display. The scent of an alpha or omega you spent your heat with took a while to fade without some serious chemical deodorizers.
I still, put down my fork, and brace myself to be grilled. I was only pushing my food around on my plate anyway.
“You’re not mad?”
Roy cocks his head. “Why would I be mad? You finally broke out of your weird, tragic nun routine, and by all accounts he’s not a terrible human being, which is saying a lot for an alpha from Crestwood.”
“Because I kept it secret. I hid it from everyone.”
“You’re gonna have to give me the whole story one day. But right now I just need the heat deets.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it.”
Roy groans dramatically. “Pleaseee? I’m dying here.”
I shake my head.
“Word among the gays is he’s started working out with all the MMA bros. Apparently they draw quite a crowd. We should go watch.”
I stab a cherry tomato and burst it between my teeth. “No, we shouldn’t.”
“Please, Lana! I’m one of your best friends, yet you refuse to tell me about your week of nasty sex with one of the hottest guys Crestwood has ever produced. I need this.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t eager to lay eyes on him. It’s been several days, and the silence is killing me.
The gymnasium was recently upgraded after a large donation—possibly from Mac Masters himself—and the cardio and weight sections were expanded to include a yoga area and a padded ring for various mixed martial arts.
I rarely had time to go, but I’d quit my job at the grill—fuck giving them two weeks’ notice, they didn’t deserve it, and it left me with too much time to think. Maybe I could quiet my demons with exercise.
I walk with Roy to the gym and change into a pair of thick black leggings and a pink racerback tank in the locker room. I pull my hair into a ponytail in the mirror, then wince and pull the elastic back out. Several hickeys and bite marks Connor left on me were still fading.
Hopefully Connor isn’t here right now. Then I can just lose myself in sweat and a true crime podcast. I need to plan ahead for our last tutoring session in a few days. Surely I can spend an hour alone with him in a room without the world ending?
But I smell him as soon as I rejoin Roy and we swipe our IDs at the door. He’s been sweating, and his scent makes my stomach clench. I swallow thickly. “Fuck.”
Roy laughs, and I resist the urge to punch him.
I make a beeline for the treadmills, refusing to glance in the direction Connor’s scent is wafting from.
Of course, the only machine free right now is the one closest to the padded ring.
Roy picks an exercise bike directly facing the ring, and I roll my eyes at him.
I last a mile before I take a peek. His scent has bloomed, and there are sounds of skin smacking mat and low grunts.
I glance over and immediately know I’ve made a mistake.
Connor is in the ring, shirtless and sweaty, his fists taped. He’s grappling with another alpha. They vie against each other, hardly moving despite the flexing of muscles and sounds of strain.
Then his opponent slips, and it’s over in a flash. Connor flips him onto his back and kneels with his knee on the guy’s throat.
I stumble in my steps and quickly press the button to lower the speed, beep-beep-beeping.
Connor’s opponent taps out, and there’s a round of claps and whistles.
Connor gets up and spits blood in a bucket hanging on the side of the ring and guzzles at his water bottle.
He leans against the ropes of the cage, chest heaving.
Several drops race down his chest. His skin is littered with marks from my mouth, and my bite is bright red and angry-looking, proudly displayed for anyone to see.
Connor nods to the group of alphas outside the ring.
“Again.”
They glance at each other.
“You haven’t had enough, Masters?”
“You’ve been going hard this week. How many bouts is that?”
“Is someone going to get into the fucking ring with me or not?”
One guy shakes his head and walks away. “Nah, man. You’re an animal right now. Sure you actually came down from rut?”
One of the alphas climbs into the ring, sighing like he’s been on the receiving end of Connor’s wrath one too many times already this week.
“One more. But then we’re going out for burgers. I’ve got a test tomorrow.”
They start to brawl. I watch, decreasing my speed to a slow jog.
Then I blink. Roy’s approaching the ring.
Connor’s head swings to him, and he catches an elbow to the face for that moment of distraction.
“You,” Connor spits. “Stay right where you are.”
Oh, shit.
I don’t think Roy even realizes Connor is talking to him.
I pull the emergency stop on the treadmill and wipe it down, then hustle over.
“We should leave,” I hiss in Roy’s ear. “Or did you forget the part where I showed up to tutoring wearing your scent?”
“I’m afraid that’s up there with other disgusting, unforgettable things. Like that live birth video from sex ed. I’m never gonna get the taste of you out of my mouth.”
Connor’s head jerks to us. Blood is streaming down his face from a cut in his eyebrow. His scent grows an acrid edge. He definitely heard that second part.
“This seems really unsanitary. They know this isn’t UFC, right?”
I tug on Roy’s arm. “We need to go. Now. ”
“I have another thirty to do on the bike. This is my rest period.”
“You’re not gonna be able to ride a bike if we don’t get out of here.”
Connor slams his opponent to the mat and traps him in a chokehold.
His opponent taps out, then he’s slipping between the ropes, and he’s right in front of us.
The bond between us sparks, a frayed wire still live.
I step in front of Roy, and Connor’s eyes burn into me.
Judging by his scent, he’s about to go fucking ballistic.
His shoulders are bunched, eyes dark. My bite on his shoulder looks like something out of a zombie movie—the kind the side character gets right before the group kills them off for the greater good.
Roy slides his hand beneath my arm, holding it out for a shake. I could strangle him.
"Connor Masters. Pleased to finally meet the local legend."
Connor seems to grow a few inches taller. “I recognize your scent. You put it where it doesn’t belong.”
Roy gulps.
“If it makes you feel any better, she tasted terrible.”
“You touched my mate. You insult my mate. Care to make strike three?”
Roy glances between me and Connor, a mischievous gleam lighting his eyes.
“What about that time I helped her wax her?—”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Connor snarls and lunges. He grips Roy by the back of the neck and pulls him forward until their foreheads are touching. He has at least six inches on Roy, and the effect is intimidating.
I do the only thing I can think of to defuse this situation.
I duck under Connor’s flexed bicep, squeezing myself into the space between them.
“Didn’t know you were into threesomes?—”
“Move, Lana,” Connor growls.
“No. Roy, get out of here. I’ll handle this.”
Roy slips away, muttering something like, “I bet you’ll handle him real good.”
“You think he can hide? I already know where he lives.”
I shouldn’t find that information nearly so titillating.
I don’t usually tolerate this kind of toxic machismo, but when it’s Connor, something in me goes weak-kneed at it.
I guess it’s because I get where he’s coming from.
I know how seeing him with Cassandra felt, and right now he’s still pumped full of hormones and unresolved tension after his rut.
“He’s my friend.”
“I know who he is. I’ll never forget his stink marring what’s mine.”
I put my arms around Connor’s neck and lean into him, ghosting my breath over the bite. Connor shudders and grips my hips. The tips of his fingers dig into the top of my ass.
I fish for that ragged bond in my chest and urge it toward him with my mind.
Connor hangs his head.
“What are you doing here? This is my space. My time. And you come in here, smelling like that, and it drives me fucking insane.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I guess I wanted to see you.”
“You did?”
I slide my fingers through the hair at his temples and raise my lips to his. “Mhmm.”
The kiss is tentative at first. It’s the first one we’ve shared without my heat riding me, and it feels new and different. Less harried, with more time to explore.
I taste his lips with my tongue, threading the seam of them. His stubble is rough against my skin.
He’s frozen to the spot, but I can feel his heart pounding.
“I think you’re trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
Connor groans into my mouth and starts kissing me back.
The entire gym has gone quiet. There are catcalls and a few claps. The other MMA guys have filtered out, eager to get clear of Connor’s wrath.
Then Connor scoops me up, and he’s walking with my legs wrapped around his waist.
He pushes through the door of the gym bathroom, and it swings shut behind us.
All the stall doors are open—no one is in here.
He carries me to the sink and sets me on the edge of it. Then he licks down my neck and sucks on my scent gland.
“We doing this?”
I nod. I know it’s a bad idea, but I need him. It’s been nearly a week since he’s been inside me.
“Don’t bite me.”
“Remember you fucking said that.”
He slips the mouthguard he was using in the ring out of his pocket and into his mouth.
“There. Kid gloves.”
He sits me on my feet and spins me toward the mirror, then leans me over the sink.
The motion discombobulates me. My hands clench the porcelain edges.
He tugs the seam of my leggings out of the cleft of my ass and rips the fabric apart, then slides my panties to the side.
My gasp is interrupted when he shoves his fingers in my mouth, hooks them around my cheek, and pulls my face up to the mirror.
“Suck. And watch yourself while I fuck you.”
I suck on his fingers, holding eye contact with him through the mirror. He pulls my sweaty hair off the nape of my neck and caresses a bruise on my back—one in the shape of his teeth.
He looks fucking feral with want, and I rub my pussy against the tent in his gym shorts.
He pulls his wet fingers free of my mouth and shoves them inside me, scissoring them back and forth a few times.
It’s quick work, not the thorough preparation of my heat, but I don’t care. I need him inside me.
Connor slides down his gym shorts and his cock springs free. Precum smears across the back of my thigh before he takes himself in hand and shoves into me with a grunt.
I grip the sides of the porcelain basin and groan as his length stretches me open. Then he’s withdrawing and pushing in again roughly, using me for his pleasure.
It isn’t nice, or romantic, or gentle.
It’s raw and feral and borders on uncomfortable, but it’s exactly what I need.
We’re taking our frustrations out on each other through sex, and the bite of pain intensifies all the other sensations.
My pussy starts to tighten around him, and he stops.
“Don’t come.”
“What? Why?”
His fingers trail down my spine.
“Because you’ve been bad, and you’re not going to come on this cock until I tell you to.”
I reach for my clit, and he grabs both my wrists and twists them behind my back, circling them with his hand.
I lose my balance and fall forward, my chin bumping against the tap.
“You don’t fucking listen, do you?”
He pumps his cock a little, distracting me.
“Connor, please?—”
“I missed this pussy, but I didn’t miss that lying mouth.”
There are voices in the hall outside the door, and I expect someone to test the knob and start knocking any second.
“You locked the door, didn’t you?” Had he? I can’t remember.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Connor!”
“What? This is entirely natural. An alpha fucking his omega after she’s driven him entirely—fucking—mad. They’re welcome to watch.”
Connor’s hips stutter, and he curses.
His hand slips around my front and between my legs, squeezing my clit as he starts to move again. My pussy begins to flutter around him, and his thrusts slow. The slow drag of his cock along my inner walls makes me stupid with want.
“Love watching you take my cock. Your pussy was made for me.”
I come immediately, my cries echoing against the tile walls.
Connor fists the base of his dick, keeping himself from thrusting his knot in as he starts to spill into me. Without his knot holding in the copious amounts of alpha spend, some splatters on the floor.
I ought to be relieved we won’t be stuck together in the bathroom for another thirty minutes while he slowly pumps me full and waits for his knot to recede, but part of me misses it.
Connor’s knot shrinks quickly without an omega pussy to keep it swollen, and he slides out of me and tucks himself into his shorts.
I adjust my panties and hike up my ruined yoga pants before I defile the floor any further.
I’m impressed he was able to rip them so easily. They’re the thick, non-see-through Lycra kind.
“You owe me new pants.”
“Does that mean I get to take those with me?”
I glare at him.
He laughs. He already seems more at ease than before, his scent more balanced.
I inspect myself in the mirror and cringe. I’m fucking ruined. There’s no mistaking that I just got fucked hard in a public bathroom.
I stand on shaky legs and wipe the hair out of my face.
The ass of my leggings is torn open, and I have Connor’s cum dripping down my legs, more slipping free with every second.
Connor smears his thumb across my bottom lip.
“Beautiful.”
He rifles through his gym bag, then pulls out a black hoodie and ties it around my waist. He pats me on the ass.
“That oughta get you to the parking lot. See you Wednesday.”
I frown. “Connor?—”
“Wednesday, Birdy. Let’s not ruin the afterglow.”
The bathroom door swings shut behind him. I scrub at my face in the sink, working up the gumption to leave. I realize now what he’s done. Any alpha will smell him on me and know what we’ve just done. Smell him dripping between my thighs.
My cheeks flame. I feel like I’ve got a scarlet letter blinking on my chest as I walk through the gym to leave. Roy, of course, is nowhere to be found.