Chapter 11
11
Layne
T he skyline is a soft glow when I roll over, the sun not yet fully over the horizon, and checking the time, I see the reason. Though I’ve always been an early riser, today is the first time in a while I’ve woken up feeling so refreshed and energized. The first couple of nights here, I jumped at every sound I thought I heard, imagining people crawling through the dark to get me until I’d wake up in a panic, and alone. But I’m starting to acclimate. A few days of doing nothing but resting was exactly what I needed.
Opening my door, I follow the flickering light of the television into the living room. Even before I spot him, I expect to find Valentine. He’s sprawled on the couch, looking almost casual without his jacket and tie, his cuffs and the neck of his shirt open.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks, muting the television and standing up.
“No, I’m an early riser.”
“Sorry, too, about disappearing. We’ve had a couple of issues we needed to fix, but that’s done now.”
As Valentine trails his eyes from my bare toes up my body, taking his sweet time, I wonder if walking out in my silky sleep set was a good idea. I spin and make a dash for the kitchen, pretending I’m not turned on by his attention. In reality, it’s insane how responsive I am to nothing but a heated look from the Alpha.
“Is it okay if I make myself a coffee?” I call out on my way, needing space from him, as well as a distraction from overthinking every aspect of our relationship. Wait, no. Not relationship. Arrangement.
Except, Valentine apparently doesn’t want to give me space this morning; he’s already behind me on silent feet. I can feel his presence, but I misjudge how close he is, fooled by the way his scent irons out my worries. I twist around to see where he is, then make one of those embarrassing meeps because he is so close I can see a freckle high up on his cheek.
“Holy shit!” I hold my hand to my chest.
Bad idea because the silky material is slippery against my skin, and it pulls tight, showcasing my aching nipples. Most people would look the other way, but Valentine doesn’t. The way he looks at them, with a hunger and longing to match my own, makes my nipples perk even more.
“About the other night,” he says abruptly, his eyes still not straying far, “and your comment about us having sex.”
Wait, I said that?
“You did.”
“And I just said that too?”
“You did. But we’ve got a problem,” Valentine says as he takes a step closer, looming over me.
“What?”
Another step, and I’m backed against the kitchen counter. He hooks a finger in the seam of my top and tugs it wide before smiling at me, half in a request for permission.
“I came to see you when I got back, and you were in the shower, but I wanted to thank you.”
“What for?” I ask, rising up on my tippy toes.
“For what you did with Claudia.”
“Oh, that was her name.”
Valentine chuckles, and I lose the last shred of hesitation when he lifts me up on the countertop. In truth, I jump up before he even starts.
“I think this is the best way to express my thanks and to prepare you for today, since we’re going out,” he murmurs, stepping closer.
“Yeah, how’s that?”
“Dante mentioned the other night that you’re struggling with our scents. And I don’t like that.”
“Wow, okay, you guys share a lot. But I’ve had time to naturally adjust to your scents over the last few days too.” Even with the pack away from the apartment, I’ve spent all my time surrounded by their scents. That’s helping. At least, I tell myself it is.
“He’s my brother. Of course, we share everything . Same with Matty.”
And there is no need for any other explanation for what he’s alluding to.
“I won’t have you stressed when I can do something about it. What kind of Alpha would I be if I allow my Omega to suffer?”
“Fake Omega,” I protest, but it sounds flat. So, I clear my throat and repeat it louder. “Fake Omega for a set period.”
“However you want to put it, if you’re stressed, we’re going to be stressed.”
“So, this is us making sure I’m not stressed by you when we go out?” I have to bite my lip to stop the whine when he trails one finger down the front of my PJs. The touch is feather soft, but my body shudders like he’s holding a live wire against my skin.
“Something like that,” he says, amused, his eyes locked on my nipple, until he draws his gaze to mine. “We need to appear to be lost in each other.”
“Lost in each other?”
“Like we’ve been fucking each other with a desperation that is impossible to sate.”
I start breathing through my mouth, falling under the charm of his inappropriate pretty words and sizzling touch.
“We’re strangers,” I protest. And again, I’m horrified by how flat it sounds.
“No, we’re not. We’re engaged, remember?”
“Valentine!” I gasp, when he pushes my legs wider. Although, I think I gasp because of how quickly they snap open and how glad I am they do.
“There’s no better way to start the day than between the legs of a beautiful woman. And since you are mine, like you agreed, I want to taste your cunt.”
“Jesus, you are straight to the point this morning.”
“I’m always straight to the point. Scoot your ass forward and let me lick my pussy.”
“ My pussy.”
“Yeah, but you’re my fiancée, don’t forget.”
“How can I forget? Although you need to remember we agreed to be fake.”
“Semantics.” He shrugs. “Feet here, please.”
He points to the edge of the counter, and my traitorous legs fly into position.
“Unless you don’t want me to help you with your pent-up need? And engaging in sex as often as possible was something you’ve reconsidered.”
“I never said as often as possible .”
“But you thought it. And now you’re thinking about it more. Tell me no, and I’ll walk away.”
“You better not!” I growl. Fake, of course.
He chuckles. It’s low and absolutely filthy.
The very last of my non-existent fight goes out the window faster than the Roadrunner being chased by Coyote. I’ll figure out the rest later.
Starting any day with pleasure strumming through my veins is what life is all about. Doing it with an Alpha who smells so good it makes my teeth ache is what dreams are made of. If remembered dreams are all I have after this arrangement, I’m savoring each and every one.
Valentine reads my consent as quickly as I give it. In his next breath, his scent thickens and curls around me encouragingly. This morning, for whatever reason there’s no scent blockers to mask his espresso perfume. And it’s heavenly fresh, and invigorating. My heart races, anxious for more.
As obvious as his scent is, Valentine’s presence adjusts too. He stands in front of me, all man, but his Alpha presence becomes impossible to ignore. It rushes against my skin to fill the places Valentine’s physical touches don’t.
“Look at me,” he demands. His voice is nearly as quiet as the muted television, but his demand is like holding a megaphone inside my ears. My eager submission oozes from me, along with the heady, dense notes of my unique caramel perfume.
Valentine’s eyes are ablaze with a vibrancy that makes them glow like sapphires in sunlight. They sparkle with heat and sultry promises, making him impossibly better looking.
“This is mine,” he insists, his gaze burrowing through my already flimsy excuses. “Yes?”
Of course he wants me to agree, and who the hell wouldn’t? “Yes.”
“For as long as I say.”
He’s being forthright but not forceful.
The corner of his eyes crease, and he waits for me to decide. Again.
I agree. Again.
At my renewed and eager consent, it is like something in Valentine lets go. His presence becomes more pronounced, and I see for the first time, he’s been buffering his designation. His power is magnetic and maddening, much like his scent. Right now, all I want is to drown in him.
“And you will.” He growls, again it’s low in volume, only for me. It takes me a second to realize I spoke about drowning in him instead of thinking them. I’m getting used to losing my self-control when I’m near him.
His finger starts gliding slowly again. His touch traces over the band of my shorts, following the seam perfectly. And as he reaches my covered mound, he adds a little more pressure to his touch, and I feel it echo in the soles of my feet. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, Valentine dips his fingers lower, and I see the moment he feels how wet my shorts are already. He removes his finger and steps back before using both hands to stretch the material against my pussy to see how slicked up I am.
“All this for me?”
He disappears before I can answer, but he waits until I’m looking at him before he swipes the flat of his tongue over the patch of wetness, humming in the back of his throat. He does it again before he latches his mouth over my sleep shorts and sucks me through it.
“If you’re thinking I’m not doing this right…” he says sternly before using his teeth to find my swollen clit, drawing it between them. He flicks his tongue, and I stop thinking and start feeling.
Pleasure waves build, and I rock gently, chasing the crest.
Valentine closes his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering as his lips kiss and lick over my pussy. Tugging the shorts to the side, he shuffles back before using his fingers to spread me wide open.
“Fuck, Layne,” he murmurs, before blowing over the wetness and making me shiver. When he blows again, he follows the undulation of my body, burying his tongue deep inside my pussy, so deep his nose is up against my pelvic bone.
His tongue darts in and out of my body, then he adds a finger and starts sucking on my clit. Hard. Stars fill my eyes, and I feel myself surrendering to the sweet moment.
I want to ask him to knot me stupid, but I’m too selfish, too desperate to fall apart on his face. Adding another finger, he makes ungodly sounds as he eats me out, noises that should make me embarrassed, but all they do is add more heat to the moment. After taking his fill, he dips lower. I go to argue, but the look in his eyes stops me; he’s enjoying himself as much as I am.
Valentine fingers me harder, faster for a few magical moments, then stops to lick and suck on my clit before he takes me as high as I can go. Or as high as I think I can. Twisting his magical fingers and sucking harder, the noise he makes, the humming and groaning has me whining in desperation. His pinkie breaches my ass just as he scissors his fingers.
I snap. I bury my fingers in his perfectly styled hair and hold his face against my pussy, grinding on his wicked grin until I come on a long, low groan.
Every part of me blasts outward, and I come back to myself full of shivering tingles and that beautiful, floaty feeling. Releasing my hands from his hair, and my thighs from his ears, I laugh when he stands up and wraps his hand around my face to kiss me. I taste myself on his lips, but I also taste his happiness.
Without asking, because I know this is not a tit-for-tat situation, I push against him before falling straight to my knees.
“No…”
“I want,” I insist, fumbling with the buckle on his belt. He drops his hand to cover it, stopping me from undoing his pants.
He hooks his free hand around my neck, pulling me back to my feet. “I’ll fill your stomach so full it stretches. But not now.” He accompanies his words with a bark.
His rebuttal stings, but he silences it by slamming his mouth to mine again and licking the rejection off my lips.
“Later, you can choke on my cock, my sweet fiancée, but before you do that, we are taking you shopping. All in the name of a handshake. Then I'm going to see a dying man.”
I shake my head to stop from getting caught up in his world again, the whisper of my confusion finally articulating itself into something coherent.
“Valentine, aren’t you guys supposed to be cold-hearted assholes with trust issues and a propensity for violence?”
He drags his thumb over my mouth. “Never had a real tangible reason to be any other way… until you. Someone looks at you wrong, and I’ll make the Godfather’s actions look like he was a fucking prom queen.”
Although, he does hold my gaze when he drops my phone into the garbage disposal.
“And you did that because?”
“Who knows what’s on it.”