Thirty-Nine – Morgan
Thirty-Nine
Morgan
“ W hat the hell is wrong with your family?”
My clawed fingers fumbled with the cap of my migraine medicine, frustration building as I stood barefoot in Cal’s too-white kitchen. The soft undercabinet lighting illuminated the space, fending off the worst of my pain, but did nothing to calm my urge to smash the container against the countertop.
“Did Heather try to run off all your other girlfriends, too?” I asked. “I get wanting to protect Spencer, but even if she had a legitimate reason to dislike you—which she doesn’t —approaching someone like that is insane.”
My unsteady hand slipped off the bottle, but that didn’t deter me from trying again.
“Could you imagine if we weren’t involved? You could have gotten into major trouble. Doesn’t she understand what an accusation of omega harassment could do to your career? And to think I felt bad for her. Fuck that.”
Cal had long since muted the highlights of the football team’s victorious away game on the living room television. Instead, he sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, his chin propped in his palm, watching me with a dopey smile.
As if my rant had somehow bewitched him.
“What?” I asked, shoulders sagging in defeat.
“Just thinking about how pretty my girlfriend is.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Who’s your girlfriend? ”
“You said it, not me. Heather couldn’t have scared off my other girlfriends if I don’t currently have one—which would be you.”
“Cal—”
“Yes, Heather can be incredibly selfish.” He calmly took the pill bottle from me. “Which is partly why I’ve never been serious about someone before you.”
I stared at him in awe, feeling humbled. “That’s—but you’re— you .”
“My alpha isn’t any less picky than your omega. More than happy to wait for the perfect partner to come along.” He twisted off the bottle cap with ease. After knocking two pills into my palm, he offered a forced smile. “My mom had an airtight pre-mating agreement. I’m set for life. But if I had to choose between the money or still having her and my grandparents with me…”
“Know what you mean.” I swallowed the pills with a mouthful of water. “I loved— loved —the speed, the height. Beating gravity at its own game. Winning. And in less than a second…” My tense fist exploded into fragmented fingers, miming the way my brain splattered against the confines of my skull. “It was gone. There are still days when I’d do anything to be that Morgan again.”
Cal opened his arms, and after behaving the entire night, I was more than willing to step between his thighs and burrow into his embrace.
“My family did everything possible to help me pick up the pieces,” I said. “They would never actively make things worse—or harass random strangers. I just don’t get it.”
“I’m sorry about Heather,” he murmured against my hair. “My entire family is wound up right now, especially her. So, ignore her bullshit. I do.”
“I’m probably her worst nightmare,” I said with a dry laugh, hands running along the solid planes of his back. “Two decades of planning, clearing every obstacle for her son—and then you show up at a gala with an omega right after your grandfather goes into hospice.”
“Showed up with my girlfriend, you mean,” he teased, fingers trailing across my hips. “But she deserves to sweat a bit. Heather has never believed I’m not interested in the company—when she should be thanking her lucky stars that I’m not trying to burn it down.”
“Would you?”
“Only if it wouldn’t ruin the livelihoods of tens of thousands of people. For all their faults, my family is very good at business. That’s why I don’t want Roddy to get his hands on Verray. He’d ruin it, and it wouldn’t be fair to the employees.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.” Of course, Cal—my noble, newly anointed boyfriend—had considered the larger picture.
My fingers slid into his hair, and I kissed the underside of his jaw, wishing the brief contact was enough to taste his pheromones.
“Are you sure Spencer wants to take on the responsibility?” I asked.
“He’s never said otherwise, but he tries not to rock the boat when it comes to Heather and Anya. I think he’s planning to run things for a few years, then cede operational control to Heather. He’d remain the largest shareholder and board chairman—then piss off to Belize or something. Even head honchos can work remotely.”
“That’s rather brilliant.”
“Comes by it honest. A true chip off the old Chaz.”
The only appropriate response to his corniness was apained groan.
“No, no,” I said, squirming in his hold, “I take it back—”
“Too late. I put up curtains for you. Invested in ambient lighting.” Cal pulled me back against him, his mouth grazing mine. “Did you notice the paint samples on the fridge? I’m thinking midnight blue for the bedroom.”
“Looks like I’ve finally foiled the omega whisperer,” I teased, drumming my fingers against his pecs.
“Why—what did I miss?” The playful spark in his eyes dimmed. “Is the lighting still too bright? I knew we should have gone back to your place. Let me grab my keys and—”
“Stop.” Covering his mouth with my fingertips, I leaned in, pressing our chests together. “It was a joke. The punchline is that I’m physically incapable of giving an opinion on paint colors. Just ask Kelsey. But that’s beside the point.”
Replacing my fingers with my lips, I gave Cal a long, hopefully reassuring kiss. I knew my tactic had worked when a hint of amaretto sweetened our exchange. A greedy stroke of his tongue across mine left me a bit breathless.
“I appreciate everything you do for me,” I murmured between kisses. “Especially because you don’t have to. This is your space, and it should be comfortable for you.”
He cupped my face in my hands, thumbs stroking my cheeks. “But I want you to be comfortable here, too.”
“I am…because I’m with you.”
A determined glint flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced with his usual easy-going affection—but he couldn’t fool me. Every time Cal spent the night at the loft, he used my morning workouts as an excuse to dig through another volume of my medical record. He knew white walls bothered me, and his condo came in nothing duller than eggshell .
The man would paint every wall in here whether I liked it or not.
While I appreciated his intentions to adapt his living space for my comfort, I didn’t have the patience to play along. Interior decorating decisions brought out the worst in me—something he would no doubt discover in time.
Cal pressed a kiss to the center of my forehead. “Told you I’m stupid when it comes to you.”
“Hmm, true. But you do fill out a suit nicely…” I toyed with the top button of his shirt. “Guess I can keep you around a little while longer.”
“Just around?” His forefinger traced the neckline of my dress, his touch lingering and eyes heated. “I was hoping for something a bit more…hands-on.”
Buoyed by a flirtatious smirk, I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, “I’ve never been tackled before.”
His brows shot up, failing to fend off an amused snort. “Was that supposed to be sports-themed innuendo?”
Heat bloomed across my face as I tried to wriggle free. “Shut up.”
“No, no. It was cute.” Cal tightened his hold. “Try again. Practice makes perfect. Tell me all about your superb ball-handling skills. We could run the gauntlet—or would you prefer to go deep and penetrate the end zone? You’ve got access to an all-star tight end, you know.”
“Enough, enough. Oh my god—stop!” I tried to cover my ears, laughing wildly as he swept his arm beneath my legs and lifted me into a bridal carry. My eyes widened, arms scrambling to encircle his neck.
He carried me toward his bedroom, punctuating each word with a deliberate, playfully exaggerated step. “But—he—could—go—all—the—way!”
“Maybe five minutes ago—”
Cal quickly bent down—but not too quickly—and dropped me onto the bed. He tossed his glasses onto the nightstand and planted a knee on the mattress. The breadth of his body arched over mine, blocking out the white glare of his ceiling.
“This dress,” he half-growled, dipping lower as he rested his weight on one forearm, “is driving me crazy.”
“But it doesn’t show much.”
“I know, that’s the problem.” His fingers traced the single strap before slowly guiding it down my shoulder. “Keep thinking about all the curves I can’t see, how soft you are to touch,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the inked rings of my tattoo. “And how much I want you.”
Hooking a hand around the back of his neck, I guided his mouth up for a heated kiss. “So go for the gold, big guy.”
Cal burst into butterfly-inducing laughter.
“New ground rule,” he said, unable to stop laughing, even as his hand slipped beneath the hem of my dress, fingers caressing the bare skin of my thigh. “No mixing dirty sports metaphors in bed.”
***
“Oh, that’s the spot?” Cal chuckled against my aching clit, tongue teasing me in tandem with the two thick fingers stroking my inner walls, coaxing me toward yet another orgasm.
He was good at foreplay. Very good. Incomparable to any partner I’d had before.
If only he would stop treating our intimate moments as experiments in lubricant suitability.
His dedication to my comfort was beyond touching. Still, I didn’t care if he opted for water- or silicone-based lube, so long as he used copious amounts of it when he finally fucked me.
And I wanted him to, so very badly.
“Cal, Cal—!” Reduced to a whining, begging mess, I scratched at his bedding, mindlessly repeating his name as he wound me even tighter. “Please, I need…”
With a maddeningly light swirl of his tongue against the base of my clit, Cal beckoned forth another wave of pleasure, his fingers continuing their ministrations uninterrupted, wringing me out for all I was worth.
Breathy moans splintered into a sob. “N-no. I wanted you to—”
“I will,” he murmured with a placating kiss below my navel. “I will.”
“Not next time—don’t say next time.”
Resting his cheek against my hipbone, Cal studied my expression for a solid minute while he stroked my thigh, more than willing to wait me out. I’d changed my mind at this point once before when he insisted on having the protection conversation again.
Condoms weren’t necessary with the omega-grade birth control implant in my arm. An implant that wasn’t going anywhere.
And I wasn’t changing my mind tonight.
I brushed damp strands of hair away from his faceand captured a large bead of sweat. Even without my glasses, the golden ring solidifying around his irises was impossible to miss as I brought my fingertip to my mouth .
His pheromones were a silky-smooth temptation, potent honey for my aching omega, adding fresh kindling to the already roaring fire of desire he’d stoked within me.
“You’re sure?” he asked, voice half-gravel, reaching up to cup my cheek.
I nodded against his palm but added the words because I knew he wouldn’t proceed without verbal consent. “Absolutely sure. So, please, please , fuck me.”
Cal’s fingers traced the shell of my ear, then tapped a secret code along the length of my neck and across my breasts before easing up onto his knees. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, he eased them down, revealing the soft rounding of his stomach, hips narrowing slightly before flaring into a pair of powerful thighs, then over the scars mottling his knees, until Cal was naked before me at long last.
He was a big guy. Everything about him was large, from his bone structure to his brain—including his cock. Thick, long, and more than a little intimidating. It’s why we’d taken weeks to get to this point.
A series of deep breaths expanded his chest to full capacity, unable to satisfy whatever need he was grappling with internally. For a moment, my typically confident pheromone guru hesitated. Perhaps his alpha was confused by my lack of aroused pheromones, but I suspected he was still worried about hurting me.
“I’ll tell you what I need,” I said, nudging the bottle of lube he seemed most pleased with closer to him. “Just like we’ve been doing. Okay?”
And with that, Cal mellowed out, full of affable charm once more. His hands stroked the lengths of my inner thighs, urging my legs further apart, creating enough space for the width of his body. “Shouldn’t I be the one reassuring you?”
“There you go,” I murmured, skimming my fingers along his biceps, “being stupid again.”
Cal paused, the bottle of lube in hand. “Huh?”
“How could I not be reassured by now? There’s a guaranteed minimum of two orgasms every time you touch me.”
“Keeping score, eh?” Cal applied a liberal amount of lube to his length, stroking himself as he held my gaze. “Hm. Not a bad idea. Might join in the fun.”
“Thought we outlawed sports stuff?”
“Oh, we did. But this has nothing to do with sports. Just pure male ego.” After coating his hand with even more lube, Cal stroked my folds, indulging in a few teasing thrusts of his fingers within me, prompting a throaty gasp of delight. “I thrive on the knowledge that I please you. That my touch makes you like this .”
Curling and twisting, curling and twisting, his fingers manipulated meuntil my back had no choice but to arch off the mattress, leaving me exposed and shivering. Wanting.
My fingers sank into the dense muscles of his back, pulling him closer, licking at his neck between murmured words, hurrying him on. Cal gave my pussy a final lingering stroke before withdrawing his fingers.
The anticipation of being speared by his thick cock sent a shudder of pure need through me, and I involuntarily tensed until I felt the first nudge at my entrance.
“Ready?” he asked, voice vibrating with restrained passion.
I nodded, feeling breathless but not anxious.
Cal wanted me, I knew that for sure, but more importantly, he wanted me to feel good. Had proven that to me over and over.
Even the fingers teasing my clit as his cock eased inside me contained a measure of reassurance, always present, always mindful, never at the mercy of his alpha.
Chivalrous to a fault, even as he spread my legs wider still and his hands moved to grip my waist—as he sank inside me, inch by throbbing inch.
It had been too long. I wasn’t used to having sex, and I’d forgotten about the sting of stretching to accommodate the girth of an alpha.
But this wasn’t any alpha. This was Cal, I reminded myself.
As his tentative thrusts turned the painful pinch of intrusion into decadent friction, I gasped and mewled against his sweat-slicked skin.
“You feel …fucking amazing.” He pulled back, transfixed by the movements of my breasts and hips as he made slow work of me, studying the slightest twitches and inhalations with rapt interest. “So wet for me, Morgan. So ready. Needy. Desperate. Aren’t you?”
The truth was undeniable. Rather than attempting a half-hearted evasion, even in the name of flirtatious banter, I responded with honest action.
Cal wasn’t quite ready for me to snake my legs around the backs of his thighs, urging him deeper, coaxing his tense glutes forward as I shifted beneath him. He bottomed out, the first swelling of his knot brushing against my clit.
We cried out in unison.
“Fuck— fuck .” He fell forward, resting his weight on one elbow, sweaty forehead plastered against his forearm, shaking as he fought the urge to rut into me. “Y-you almost… I almost…”
I angled my head to nibble on his earlobe. “Why don’t you? ”
“God damn it, woman—are you trying to make me snap?” Cal’s hips rolled forward, smooth and deep, free hand snaking down to grip my ass as he worked us into a steady rhythm.
A subtle shift of my hips found the perfect angle to make me see stars.
“O-oh!” My mouth dropped open, pants escalating into breathy moans as I met him thrust for thrust.
Mutual desire was a thrilling, belated discovery. Overwhelming at times but soul-satisfying to a degree I had never thought was possible, even before my accident.
I may have resisted my attraction to Cal for many good reasons, but I never took him for granted. Not his intellect or his professional experience—nor his interest in me.
And I knew, long before he pulled me into his lap after the Redmond’s housewarming party, that while our physical connection may never be effortless because of my condition, it was relatively straightforward.
This wasn’t lust. It was thoughtful and deliberate adoration. Quintessential Cal Carling.
He sat back on his heels, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist as he began a series of short, intense thrusts, driving me straight up to the edge, toes curled, chest tight—there, almost there—only to abruptly withdraw, leaving only the first torturous inch of his cock inside.
I fisted the comforter, shooting needy daggers up at him, only to find Cal watching me with a satisfied grin as he applied a fresh coating of lube to the base of his erection, including the increasingly prevalent ring of muscle that would soon become a full-blown knot.
“I-inside me,” I meant to ask, but it came out as a demand. “I want all of it, all of you—Cal, I want it.”
His knot—a dusky red temptation—grew firmer beneath his grip. A color that would pain me in any other situation except this—when it could only inspire an unbearable ache in the depths of my core.
Cal gripped me behind each knee, holding my legs still as he eased forward, watching my hungry gaze as I stared at his approaching knot, goosebumps breaking out across my bare skin, shaking with anticipation, unable to keep from moaning.
He took great pleasure in edging me, grinding his knot against my clit between shallow thrusts that never reached the right spot, shifting his hips back every time I tried to pull him deeper. He waited until my head began to thrash, hair and back damp with sweat, a quivering bundle of nerves on the verge of detonation.
Only then did he reward me with a full, vigorous thrust, driving his knot as deep inside me as possible. It inflated rapidly, exerting mind-numbing pressure against my walls, locking us together.
“Oh, fuck, Morgan— fuck , that’s tight.”
Cal could only withstand the stranglehold of my pussy a few seconds longer. He came with a bellow, head thrown back, the muscles of his arms and neck bulging, fingers digging into my hips, ass flexing forward, still trying to bring us closer.
Full. That was the only thought in my blissed-out head. So full of Cal and his warmth.
Until the purring started.
Cal hovered over me, thumbing a nipple as he shifted to suck on the side of my throat, vibrations tingling down the length of my spine. My pussy fluttered around the solid weight of his knot, still seeking another climax.
“God,” he rasped in my ear, “you feel…”
“You too—I’ve never… You know I’ve never…”
“I know, sweetheart, I know. You did so damn good, so fucking good.”
Cal blanketed me with the rumbling expanse of his torso, peppering kisses along my hairline as he subtly gyrated within me, holding my leg at the perfect angle to send shuddering pulses straight to the apex of my sensitive nerves.
“Never want to let you go.”
A secret desire slipped out with a sigh. “Then don’t.”