Chapter 20 – Callum
Chapter Twenty
Callum
Lacey whimpers and shoves my jacket open, looping her arms around my lower back. Not that I don’t want her to try to get me naked, but we’re not exactly in an ideal location.
“Are you trying to distract me so I won’t buy you expensive things?” I tease, trying to determine what’s happening.
Could she have had a flashback? Did something trigger her need to be protected?
“Cal,” she whimpers, burying her face in my side. “Mmm, you smell so good.”
I almost warn her to be careful not to irritate the scratches on her cheek and temple, but my nose twitches, and I slide my hand around her lower back.
Fuck.
Sweet pears and white gardenia.
Reaching between us with my free hand, I tilt her chin up until I can study her face. Her pupils are blown, and her eyes are hooded.
“Well, shit,” I whisper. “I’ve heard bonding can sometimes jump-start a heat.”
I wanted to spoil her a little. Maybe test out how well she did with letting me take the lead on things, but it would have been safer if I had just taken her to the pheromone clinic and stopped by her apartment before bringing her back to the house.
I get close to her ear before speaking. “Do you think you can make it to your apartment?”
“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head, and her scent bursts in the air.
My mouth waters at the same time my canines pulse.
Wilder’s fucking car is nice to drive, but it’s also tiny as shit. Even the back seat has a middle console. Probably because it’s physically impossible to fit three people back there, no matter how hard you try, so the pretentious-ass manufacturer blocked off the space instead.
My head swivels.
An older lady sits behind the counter.
Goddammit.
She doesn’t look like the type to be bought off, meaning I’ll have to do this the hard way. I’m not in the business of harming cranky old ladies, but luckily, I just so happen to know the owner.
Well, I know her husband.
He owes me a favor.
Nothing too serious, but I could have held on to that marker for something worth a hell of a lot more than closing the store for an hour.
Still, it’s Lacey.
I’d use up all my favors to keep her safe and happy. Pulling out my phone, I unlock it and scroll through my contacts.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you,” I murmur, shoving my knee between her thighs. I push on her lower back, showing her she can bend her knees and use me if she needs something to grind on.
Bringing the phone to my ear, I lean down and mark both her cheeks with my pheromones.
Lacey struggles with getting free of my jacket, but once she does, she wraps her hand around the back of my neck and tries to maul me as soon as I’m within reach.
I chuckle and kiss the fuck out of her in return while I wait for David Walter to answer his fucking phone.
The dressing room door clicks closed behind us. That was five minutes of hell. If Mrs. Walter took any longer to tell her staff to get the fuck out, I was about to give up on locating some privacy.
I’d have fucked her right in the middle of the store if it really came down to it, but I get twitchy when surveillance equipment is in play. At least with systems that would take another favor to wipe the feeds.
David knows what I would do to him if he tried to do anything exceptionally stupid, such as to try to blackmail me, but I might have the tapes from today sanitized just to be safe. I don’t want anyone with a video of Lacey when she’s this out of it.
She’s already unbuckled my belt, and I’m going to have to grab her coat from the floor out in the shop. She did her best to get out of her leggings too, but I had to draw the line somewhere.
I’m always up for an adventure like public sex, but I generally prefer to have a little more control of my surroundings.
Jesus.
I’m a Dom through and through. I need control, and here this little omega is bossing her way into getting whatever she wants exactly when she wants it. Then again, the way her skin heats mine is alarming.
I’ll play and take my time when she’s not experiencing a medical emergency.
Lacey moans against my lips, grinding her pussy into my stomach as I check out the small dressing room.
It’s nice enough. Pretty basic outside of a club chair and a mirror, but it’s more spacious than one you’d see in the mall.
She’s dumping out so many pheromones that it’s a battle to keep my head clear.
“I need you.” She gasps, pulling away from our kiss. Her cheek comes to rest against mine, and she nods frantically. “Like now. Holy shit. I’ve never had cramps like this in my life.”
“You’re okay, sweet girl. I’m going to take care of you,” I murmur, striding over to the chair. Lowering to my knees in front of it, I get her ass planted on the edge and push my mouth to hers.
I stretch down and push her shoes off before following her legs up to her thighs, eventually hooking my fingers in the waistband of her leggings. She’s bare under them, likely because she didn’t want to wear brand-new panties without washing them.
The material falls in a pile on the floor, and I wrap my hand in her hair at the base of her skull while my other teases between her thighs. She’s soaked, which I’d love to take the credit for, but it must boil down to biology because all we’ve done is kiss.
I brush the backs of my fingers over her clit, and she whimpers, clutching my shoulders.
I should have gotten her out of that fucking dress, but this will have to do for now. She clearly needs more than to be teased, and I’m here for whatever will help her feel better.
“Cal, please!”
I shove two fingers inside her and groan at the way her walls cling to my skin. Even stretching them is difficult, and my cock throbs, desperate to take their place.
Lacey frantically kisses me back, and it soothes some part of my system that I didn’t realize was on edge.
My hand tightens in her hair, and I give a little tug. She moans even louder and pulls a hand between us, trying to work my zipper. She already handled my belt and the button on my jeans when we were out in the store, but she’s persistent.
Her entire body seizes, and she lets out an agonized whine. It makes my canines pulse and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. My system screams to fix whatever has the little omega so discontent.
“Shh. You’re okay,” I murmur, praying my words are true.
She digs her fingers into my stomach, and her skin grows hotter.
Stretching my fingers, I do my best to tease her clit with my palm, but my head is a foggy fucking mess.
“I’m dying,” she groans against my lips. “I hurt really bad.”
“Tell me what you need,” I coax, trying to remember what they taught us to do when an omega is in a potent wave of pre-heat. This shit came out of nowhere, but it’s my fault for not brushing up on how to care for an omega.
Her palm teases my stomach as she slides her hand down the front of my jeans.
“Knot!” She nods repeatedly. “Locked inside me. You knot me. Why can’t I…” Another of her moans fills the air, but it indicates pain not pleasure. “It’s not enough.”
Pulling my hand from her pussy, I bring my fingers to my mouth. The taste of sweet pears explodes on my tongue, but I barely get to enjoy it.
It’s a good thing I have faith in my holster, because I don’t have time to pull my belt out of the loops to deal with that mess.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” I shove my jeans down my thighs, trying to figure out how we can do this. I’m not fucking her on the floor like an animal, but my choices are severely limited. We never should have left the fucking house this morning.
If I had known this was coming…
Goddammit.
Get yourself together.
You can beat yourself to shit later.
Fucking fix your omega first.
Bitch and moan about poor choices when you’re not in an emergency.