Chapter 48
CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT
CHRISTINE
After hauling Mylo back to the bedroom, I get the best sleep of my life, even with him waking me with needy whimpers every few hours. His fever rages, and his trembling only stills with my knot in his ass and my fingers or breast in his mouth.
Mylo suckles and drips like a pathetic little thing, and I won’t even tease him about it. I enjoy it too much to give him a reason to resist that glassy-eyed gaze he turns up at me, warm with reverence and need.
He murmurs so sweetly as he dozes, nuzzling against my chest or leaning into my fingers in his hair.
I love how much his cute little cock drips for me. I’m going to owe Reynold a new bed… so might as well make a complete and utter mess of it while we’re here.
By the time dawn edges around the curtains, illuminating the tastefully decorated ranch-style bedroom, the shift has faded.
I stir first, finding myself folded around Mylo.
His back presses against my chest, and his hair falls across his face.
I listen to his breathing for a while, and when he lifts his head, I expect him to beg for my cock.
“I’m hungry,” he murmurs.
I kiss the pointed tip of his ear. “I’ll make you breakfast.”
He rolls over to face me. The sun catches in his amber eyes, reflecting through depths that had been hidden by pigment. Whatever strange metaphysics enable the shift have cleared those modifications away. His eyes, his ears, and his teeth are befitting an omega again.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” I purr, running my hand through his hair again.
He leans into my touch, but worry knits his brow. Quietly, he stands and pads over to the bathroom.
I follow close behind, looping my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his shoulder as he looks in the mirror.
A frown pulls at his lips, so I kiss the drooping corners.
“Everyone will know,” he murmurs.
“It wouldn’t take them long to find out, anyway.”
“Right… because of our scents?”
“That. And also about a microsecond of seeing the way I look at you.”
A blush rises to his cheeks even as he clicks his tongue. “If you become some pathetic, love-struck simp making goo-goo eyes at me all the time, I swear to god—”
It’s so deliciously easy to snake my hand around to the front of his chest, using my grip across his collarbone and throat to shove his back into the open bathroom door. His gasp of surprise passes under my palm, and his dark pupils spread wide as he looks up at me.
My purring growl rattles by his ear. “I was more thinking when I look at you like this.”
I feel it in my blood and see it reflected in his eyes, in how his muscles slacken under my touch.
Predatory. Possessive.
My grip tightens around his throat. “They will all know immediately… that you are mine.”
God, I love to watch him melt. That moment of resistance, then blossoming surrender. Lavender florals weave stronger through his scent.
I lean down and claim his mouth, still as sweet as the first time I tasted him. My hand slides down his body, savoring every hot inch, until I palm his throbbing cock. He moans and arches for me, head tipping back and jaw falling open, beckoning my tongue down his throat.
I savor the last meeting of our lips, then break the kiss, grabbing a fluffy terry robe from the hook and pulling it around him. I don’t bother to get his arms through the holes before I cinch the belt tight and slip on my own robe.
He looks up at me, caught between arousal and anger, and makes a whimpering huff.
“Time for breakfast,” I say, stepping past him.
“Wha—Tee! What the fuck?!”
I chuckle, enjoying the sound of his feet padding behind me as he awkwardly tries to free his arms. It doesn’t take him long—he’s plenty nimble—and he grumbles as he joins me in the kitchen.
After putting the kettle on the stove, I lean over and press the back of my hand against his forehead.
He permits it. “What’s the verdict?”
“Your fever’s let up a little, so it’s a good time to stuff you—”
He yelps reflexively.
A wicked, wicked grin spreads across my face. I prowl toward him, and his eyes widen as he scoots defensively around the island. I back him into the pantry door, catching his chin with the tip of my finger.
“I was going to say… stuff you with food and make sure you’re hydrated. But it’s very good to know how…” I trail my nail down his neck, over his Adam’s apple to rest between his collarbones. “…responsive you are.”
Mylo shudders, chest rising and falling rapidly under my touch.
Then I step away, heading to the cabinet-front fridge to get some eggs.
I count the seconds until Mylo recovers enough to complain.
“Cut it out,” he huffs.
Thirty-five. Not bad.
“Why should I? It’s fun.” If my tail were out, it would swish behind my calves, sultry and satisfied.
I catch only a few syllables of what Mylo mutters under his breath as he opens the tea cabinet, but the gist is ‘fucking bitch,’ so I’m quite pleased.
I permit Mylo to entertain himself with the tea and kettle as I heat a pan on the far side of the wide commercial range.
He likes choosing things for himself, and this is suitable to his current facilities. In the time it takes him to choose a variety of tea and fuss with the temperature of the kettle, I have two omelettes filled with local beef, fresh avocado, extra-sharp cheddar, and ripe tomato.
We settle at the island, facing the floor-to-ceiling glass and panoramic view.
I’m a fast eater, and Mylo still manages to beat me to clearing his plate.
“Glad you liked it.”
“It was—” He bristles, then catches himself. “Adequate.”
I flick my fork casually, sending a piece of egg flinging at him.
When it hits his face, he startles. “You—”
I lean over and grab his face, dragging my tongue along his cheek. “There. All clean.”
“Ugh!” He scrubs my drool off his face with the sleeve of his bathrobe as I laugh.
He tries to glare at me, but a smile breaks through. He hides it behind his mug of tea.
Then a somberness comes over his face. He raises a hand to his ear, tracing the newly restored point. “I guess I could get them rounded again… might be harder to get jobs with them like this…”
I shake my head lightly. “You can’t.”
“Why? Because they’ll come back if I shift again? Will that happen every time?”
“Not because of that.” I lean over and roughly grip his chin.
Those gorgeous amber eyes flash to mine.
“Because these ears…” I trace one with my free hand.
“And these eyes…” My touch draws over his cheek.
“And these teeth…” My thumb pushes into his mouth, pulling back his lip.
“Belong to me. And I will not let you chop them off.”
His breath flutters against my palm. He grumbles, unintelligible with my thumb on his tongue.
I remove my fingers from his mouth, but keep a firm grip on his chin. “What’s that?”
“Red flag… possessive… alpha-hole… bullshit…”
I give a wicked laugh, pulling him closer until my breath falls down his neck. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do? Cum about it?”
His brow knits and rises helplessly as he lets out a whimpering moan.
“It’s not fair,” he whines.
“What’s not fair, my sweet omega?”
“The things you do to my… brain…”
“Well, you’re a very needy omega. So I have to be a particularly persuasive alpha, don’t I?”
He slowly wilts into an absolutely petulant pout. I brush a thumb over his bottom lip as he looks up at me, all wide puppy-dog eyes.
Fuck, I would move the world for him. Stop time. Split a quark.
My voice softens as a warm smile rises from my heart. “What’s the matter, Mai Tai?”
“I’m horny again,” he whines. “It’s so annoying…”
“Tired of my cock already?”
His pout deepens. “No… I don’t know…”
“We could watch a movie.”
He perks slightly. “Really?”
“I don’t see why not. I can multi-task.”
He hesitates, then glowers. “You’re not going to make me watch one of yours, are you?”
“God, no, I hate watching my movies.”
Mischief glints in his eyes. “Oh…”
“Remote’s on the coffee table. You can pick whatever you want.”
Mylo heads over to the couch while I gather the plates and put them in the sink.
I hear faintly as he mutters under his breath, “Leather is a stupid thing to make a couch out of… And who the fuck picked these sorry excuses for pillows…”
I can’t hold back my smile, so I futz around at the sink, opting to hand wash the dishes and take my time doing so.
My ears track Mylo as he digs through the storage ottoman and blanket ladder in the living room, then doubles back to the bedroom, emerging again with a comforter well-infused with our scent and a few pillows.
As I polish the silverware beyond a perfect shine and put on another kettle for more tea, Mylo works methodically to pile the blankets and pillows on and around the couch until he’s satisfied. Finally, he huffs and plops down. His scent drifts toward happiness.
I bring over the fresh tea and set it on the coffee table, then settle down next to Mylo as he flips through the streaming service’s menu.
“Cute nest,” I say lightly.
He looks over in incredulous surprise. “What nest? I didn’t—” And then he realizes, blush slowly creeping up his neck to make his cheeks bright pink. His brow furrows, and he forces his attention back to the TV. “Oh, look at that, it’s a Christine Evansworth movie, I guess we can watch this one.”
I draw in a sharp breath as the familiar title sequence begins to play. “Ah… touché.”
Mylo’s blush lingers, quickly becoming that feverish urgency of his heat.
I sprawl across the couch, shoving a leg behind him.
“Hey, don’t hog the whole—”
I pull him down onto my chest, sliding a hand down to part both our robes.
“Aw, poor thing…” I drag a finger up the length of his cock, sending him shuddering. “Already so hard.”
His grumbles of embarrassment vanish into a gasp as I pull him inside, settling his hips between mine and pressing his cheek to my breast.
He gives a delicious moment of resistance, then relents, moaning quietly with relief as his cock throbs.
I squeeze my inner muscles, earning a whimper as his little omega knot swells. This time, it’s enough to complete the lock. Mylo couldn’t go anywhere even if he wanted to, but he seems content to lie across my chest, throbbing and dripping.
The movie opens with a wide shot, and the screen reads Santa Barbara.
“Not far from here,” Mylo comments.
“We actually shot that part in Vancouver. It was fucking cold.”
“But you’re all in shorts and stuff.”
“Yep. Depending on which version this is, you may still be able to see my nipples in just about every shot. Ratings board made them edit that out for the TV version.”
That seems to have reminded Mylo what’s so close to his face, and he pulls my robe aside so he can palm my breast. He gives my nipple a light pinch, smiling at the hitch in my breath.
I raise a brow and tighten my inner muscles again. Pleasure rolls through him, spine arching into me as he moans and shudders against my skin.
He makes a point of returning his attention to the movie and wisely decides to not pinch me again.
The movie rolls on, and I offer a running commentary: reminiscing about the birds that tried to move into the sound studio, thinking craft services was their personal buffet; complaining about the shot where we did nearly fifty takes yet still used the first one; making a mental note that I should send a text to my co-star, ask how his kids are doing.
Halfway through the movie, after I laugh at one of my own jokes, Mylo lifts his head and casts a suspicious look at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I thought you said you hate watching your own movies?”
“Hm? Oh, I lied.”
His eyes narrow. “And you knew I wouldn’t be able to resist…”
“Yep.”
His mouth drops open with indignant shock. “You sly bitch—”
He reaches for my nipple again, but before he can squeeze, I clench around him.
“Oh, fuck…” His breath shudders, turning needy, and that cute little cock throbs within me.
I squeeze again, and he can’t help but thrust, now on the precipice of an impending climax that’s caught him by surprise. He clings tightly, fingers digging into my breasts, hips rocking as he pulls against the lock.
“Tee,” he gasps, “it feels so fucking good…”
I graze my nails down his back. “That’s right, sweet omega. Let it all out for me.”
His moan is low and long as he tips over the first of many edges to come.
At least the lock will keep the couch clean. For now.
His skin is feverish as he settles against me again, breath still trembling.
I snuggle further into the comforter and pillows he’d carefully arranged, loving how they carry our scent.
On the screen, a past version of myself delivers another sly, under-stated joke, and Mylo laughs against me.
I lean down and kiss his forehead. “I meant what I said before, Mylo. You made a very good nest. I’ll make sure you have anything and everything you want for another at my—our house.”
This time, he accepts the compliment, snuggling deeper into me. “Oh, right… no more shitty apartment…”
“No more shitty apartment.”
“You have some obnoxiously fancy mansion in Beverly Hills, don’t you?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Don’t tell me—you’re neighbors with Pitt Bradley?”
“Mary Stuart, actually. I’ve borrowed sugar from her.”
He laughs against my chest again. “Of course you have.”
“And now you’ll be neighbors with her too. Oh, the way I’m going to parade you around… show you off… my omega.”
He lifts his head to protest, as I expected.
But then, once again, Mylo surprises me.
His expression softens, voice warm with rare sincerity. “I’d… like that. I’d like that a lot.”
A wave of emotion pangs through my chest, so overwhelming that all I can do is fold my arms around him, pressing his cheek against my heartbeat.
“I love you, Mylo.”
Then, murmured against my skin, come four words that mean I need never fear the future again:
“I love you, too.”