Chapter 34 #2
“I love that sound,” Morgan croons, pinching the head of my cock through the fabric.
I moan lowly, desperately.
“Fuck, you made a wet little mess,” she hisses.
Both of her hands meet at the button of my suit pants, and she slowly undoes it, then peels the fabric away from my hips.
My cock twitches, throbbing against my briefs.
Her claws drift behind the elastic waistband before finally pulling my briefs down. I shiver as the cold air hits my damp cock, followed by Morgan’s hot breath as she crouches.
“Let’s see how you taste,” she croons, and with no warning, my cock is deep in her mouth.
“Fuck!” I almost fall over at the shock and the pleasure. Her mouth is so hot, her throat tight, her tongue pressing hard, sliding up my length.
I may technically be standing over her, but I’m utterly at Morgan’s mercy as she looks up at me, eyes predatory. She works her tongue over my cock as if licking her claws clean after a kill.
And she is, isn’t she? She’s taking what’s hers.
“Oh god,” I whine, struggling to stay upright.
Morgan sweeps her tongue from my base up to my tip, sucking hard before pulling away with a pop.
“What do you think?” she croons. “Will you cum again for me like this?”
My breath comes in ragged gasps. “The odds are… high…”
She swallows my cock again, and my world is heat and need and pleasure.
I have a complicated history with blowjobs. I’ve messed around with people here and there, and they’re pleasant. But I’ve never cum from one. I probably wasn’t assertive enough to ask for what would get me there, and whoever I was with eventually got bored.
But that won’t be a problem with Morgan.
It doesn’t matter exactly what she’s doing, just that she’s doing it forcefully, hungrily, and she’s Morgan.
I am falling apart.
“Oh god,” I choke. I’m moaning and gasping. Cumming against Morgan’s thigh was more ruined orgasm than release, and my body is still tightly wound.
I wobble, and Morgan presses a hand against my stomach, holding me against the wall. Pleasure sparks from every place she touches.
“Fuck, Morgan… Mor… I’m gonna… Shit!”
Morgan swallows me to the hilt, and I pour down her throat, shaking, only held upright by her other hand coming to steady my hip.
“Oh, god, Mor,” I moan, still cumming.
Morgan’s tongue works under my shaft, intent on draining me.
She doesn’t stop until I tremble violently as the pleasure shifts to sensitivity.
I’m dizzy as she stands and pulls me into another hungry kiss. I press up on my toes to reach her, and she pins me against the wall, the taste of my release still on her tongue, salty and sweet.
Fuck, it’s hot.
Her claws roam my body, tensing as her tongue presses into me, and I want her to draw blood, to dig into me, to shred me into pieces.
Her hand finds the back of my head, gripping my hair as her kisses trail down my jaw to my throat, every touch making my body sing, as her lips drop to the base of my neck.
There’s a deep ache there, something stretched too full, yearning for release.
Morgan’s tongue sweeps across my skin, tasting my sweat, making me wriggle and gasp.
She pauses, her hot breath washing over the moisture she left behind.
Her fangs graze that aching spot.
The one that will make me hers forever.
Fuck, I want it.
Morgan’s breath saws from her lungs.
“Jamie…” There’s an edge to her voice that reaches out for my sanity through layers of hazy pleasure. “I need you to listen very carefully.”
“Yes… anything…”
“When I release you, you need to go inside and lock the door.”
“But Mor—”
“This is not a negotiation. Neither of us is in a position to make a permanent decision right now. And I am about to do something very permanent to you.”
She’s shaking, but I don’t think it’s from pleasure.
The omega in me writhes, still singing at the idea of doing something so permanent, but my forebrain finally steps in.
It’s not any sense of self-preservation that gives me conscious control of my limbs again. It’s just that Morgan is distressed, and I will do anything in my power to ease that.
“Do you understand?” she hisses.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Go now.”
Morgan releases me, and I sprint the few steps to the door, not daring to turn around until it’s slid back into place and securely latched.
Morgan has picked up one of the deck chairs, and she slams it down against the concrete of the balcony.
I jump at the sudden noise, then again when Morgan’s fist lands on the side of the chair, mangling the frame.
“Why can’t I control myself around you?!” she bellows, more at the sky than at me. Her hair falls from her ponytail, her face creased by anguish.
The alcohol has been wearing off, and as the arousal drains out of my head, I’m mostly sober again. I start to put two and two together.
“You’re the case study,” I say, and Morgan’s hearing is sharp enough I don’t need to speak up for her to hear it through the glass.
“Yes,” she grinds out, picking up a resin slat from the half-destroyed chair and snapping it in half.
Dear fucking god she’s strong.
“Let me help you,” I breathe.
“Absolutely not,” she says, danger flashing in her eyes as she finally looks at me, snapping another slat. “That is not your job.”
“But I want to—”
“You’re not thinking straight,” she growls.
“But I thought you wanted…”
Morgan barks a cruel laugh and twists the chair’s metal frame in her hands, as if it’s a blade of grass she wants to turn into a flower crown. She starts pacing. “You have no idea how badly I want this to not be a fucking problem.”
“So the… claiming bite is the problem?” I should have known we were playing with fire when I felt that ache in my neck.
There’s a pair of glands there in omegas, one on each side of the neck near the base—modified lymph nodes.
When one or both burst in the presence of alpha pheromones—usually by an alpha’s bite—it sets off the hormone cascade that causes bonding. Permanent bonding.
“Don’t even think about it,” she snaps.
“Mor, you can’t just… just throw me away like this after getting…” My voice tightens.
Her eyes soften. “Getting what?” she asks softly.
“Getting my hopes up,” I murmur, ashamed.
“Jamie…” There’s so much tenderness in her voice my heart might burst. She sighs. “I just… I don’t want to do anything permanent to you.”
The omega wilts. She doesn’t want you.
But I know better. Right now I feel like I want to be with Morgan forever. But I don’t know if I do, just like she can’t know if she does.
Because the thing is, alphas can recover from the bond in a way that omegas can’t. It’s uncomfortable, sure, but Chuck didn’t lose much sleep when Mom and I left.
But once an omega is bound to an alpha, they can’t be unbound. Ever.
So, Morgan’s restraint is truly for my benefit. Even if her selflessness makes it that much more tempting to throw myself through the glass at her.
“I have an idea,” I say. “I’ll be back.”
“Jamie…” Morgan’s violence has paused, and she just looks… weary. She sinks into an unbroken chair. “You really don’t have to do this.”
I kneel against the glass nearest to her. I understand now—the open windows, the outdoor restaurant, the casino, the balcony. My scent triggers her, even when dulled by the suppressants. No wonder she’s been avoiding me.
“I want to,” I say emphatically. And now that I’m not drowning in her scent or irresponsibly tipsy, I can find the words a little easier.
“At the anniversary party, I… I’d forgotten to take my suppressants that day.
I think smelling you triggered my heat early.
And maybe that… imprinted on you, in a way.
Made you more sensitive to me. Exacerbated your…
your problems. It’s my fault. And I want to do what I can to… to help fix that.”
Morgan stiffens, her knuckles going white around the resin in her hands. “Jamie…” Her voice rings with warning. “I appreciate that kindness, but I need to be confident your martyr complex has nothing to do with this. I need to know what you want.”
The words are a jolt, a shock to my system. A reset button. The truth pours out.
“I want you,” I breathe. “I wanted to stay, to watch you on that stage. You’re magnificent.
A force of nature. I don’t think I’d need to be an omega to want to be lost in you.
This trip has been… torture in the best possible way.
I have been… pining after you.” I want to tell her about all the times I’ve touched myself thinking of her, about just how much she’s tormented me, but I don’t want to set her off again.
I don’t want to make this harder for her.
Hopefully, the words I chose are enough.
“Please,” I say, pressing my palm against the glass. “I want… I want to get to know you like this.”
Morgan softens. She presses her palm against mine on the other side of the glass.
“Your plan had better be good,” she says, a smile creeping back into her voice.
“It is.”