Chapter 11 Ollie
Ollie
It’s been nearly a week of living with one of the tastiest-smelling men in existence.
Well, apart from a lavender-scented alpha who’s haunting my dreams.
I’m amazed I’ve made it this far without jumping on Timber.
It’s hardest when he’s actually in the house.
When he’s gone, I can either lock myself in my room and jerk off, or go outside and ignore how I want to rub one out.
Not that that’s it, it’s just I can barely be around him without getting hotter than a smoking chili.
He has absolutely no reaction to me. It’s not like he’s faking it and pretending he can’t feel it. Even when I flirt and tease him, I get a good old scowl before he stomps off.
I’m not an option on any level.
Kane’s still texting me, but I only message him back when I’m feeling desperate, and even then, I keep the conversation drier than Timber’s personality.
I can’t risk Kane finding out who I am, no matter how tempting it is to ring him up and invite him over. Or go to his house, or do anything that would mean I could rub myself all over him and come enough times to stop thirsting over Timber and do my job.
I even stole the magazine from my brother so I can ogle over that picture of them. If I ever see them together in the flesh, my pussy’s going to implode.
Dealing with a cesspool of horniness and frustration is not on the menu, and Timber’s wandering around the house like I’m an annoyance instead of the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to him.
Well, I will be if he opens his eyes and sees I’m here if he wants me.
The pissiness has definitely reduced since I’ve started cooking for him, maybe because he’s eating more. I hope he feels an increase in his energy and gets better sleep. Though I’ve caught him sleepwalking in the mornings, so maybe it’s less sleep.
The oven shows 6:29 a.m. I’ve already cooked breakfast, and I’m waiting for him to get up.
I bend my head over the pot of oatmeal and stir, tension twisting in me, because I know what’s coming.
As soon as the clock flicks to 6:30 a.m., a police siren bursts out from his room. My eyes squeeze as it pounds through the house, shaking the walls, rattling pictures. It’s so loud that the first time I heard it, I thought we were under attack.
It’s like a klaxon at a nuclear plant signaling a meltdown, or a trumpet announcing the end of the world. Thank God his house is far from the neighbors, so no one thinks the end is nigh.
There’s a heavy thump and a loud shout as he falls out of his bed, like he does every morning.
Then I listen to him drag himself across the floor to switch off his alarm on the other side of the room, plunging the house into an unnerving silence.
His bedroom door clicks open, and he plods into the bathroom we share.
The bathroom I was in just twenty minutes ago.
Showering, hot, naked, and hoping he would wake up early and stumble into the shower all cute and groggy and join me.
The gentle bubbling water in the pot of oatmeal in front of me steals my attention as I reduce it to a simmer.
I quickly learned to leave him to his morning routine. That’s when his sleepwalking is the worst. As long as I have food ready for him, he’ll come down when he’s hungry.
With a pinch of salt and another stir, I leave the pot to go to the fridge-freezer, which was definitely designed for someone his size. I swear the door is heavier than I am, and I flex my arms before grabbing the right-side handle and heaving it back.
As I fish around for fresh fruit to add, I hear a rustle behind me.
I spin around, yelping in surprise. My back whacks against the freezer side as a 6ft. 4in. mass of sleepy alpha sways in front of me.
“T-Timber?” I whisper.
He grunts in reply as he pitches forward. One hand slams against the freezer door while the other shoots past my head.
His breaths are heavy and low, his eyes hazy, his shoulders slouch as his hips press against my stomach.
And he’s hard.
In a loose dressing gown, it could be difficult to tell, but his cock is half the length of my freaking stomach. My T-shirt is thin, and my chest binder is smooth enough that my breasts should be hidden. All those fantasies about him fucking me can’t compare to feeling his cock pressed against me.
“Timber?” I murmur again before raising my voice. “Um… Timber?”
The fruit is forgotten as my arms fall to my sides, and he growls as he grows heavier, crushing me against the freezer while his thick coffee scent blankets my body.
I’m going to smell like him all day.
He’s too far away from my pussy, so there’s no way he can know I’m slicking.
I already called up my dealer to rant at him about the hospital incident, and he confessed that the scent and heat suppressants he got me were two years out of date.
He said he’d get me good ones next week, but I had to see it to believe it.
Even with the faulty suppressants, I shouldn’t be slicking this much.
Timber searches for something on the top shelf behind me, and I gasp at the force of him. Though it feels good, there’s only so much pressure I can take.
Slipping my hand in between us both, I wriggle it across the ridges of his abs and push at him to relieve the pressure, only to freeze when he groans.
I was extra careful not to touch his cock, so why is he making that noise?
There’s a clunk from behind my head, and another grunt as he’s found whatever he’s searching for in the fridge.
I hid all his protein bars when I arrived. But I’m happy to stand there with a big alpha crowding me as he rootles around for whatever he wants to devour. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to be me.
He pulls back with a bottle of milk in his hand. The door thunks closed next to us, but he doesn’t move.
I lift my head, meeting his unfocused gaze as he blinks slowly. And I hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do next.
His presence grows even thicker as his hips grind against me, and I bite back my whine.
“Omega,” he says, his voice heavy, his nose brushing under my ear as his head bows. The tip bumps off my shoulder, and his hot breath sweeps over my shirt.
My breath catches in the back of my throat as all my senses give way under him. I can feel my perfume escaping, and I know I’m rubbing off on him, but I can’t stop.
It’s not fair to ask me to resist when my alpha calls me that.
“Timber,” I say, raising my trembling voice. “Timber, you need to stop.”
If the freezer side weren’t holding me up, I’d sink to my knees and rip apart his dressing gown so I can taste him properly.
I stretch out my neck, giving him enough space to sniff wherever he wants. I need his tongue, and I want his scent to absolutely drench my body.
He takes a deep inhale, though I know he can’t scent me. His reports say he hasn’t been able to smell or taste anything for ten years.
Until something warm and hard rolls across my skin, and I shudder as he licks me.
“Sweet,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, his lips trailing over my neck.
I suck in a breath as I close my eyes, scared and excited that it’s finally happening, that he’s giving me what my body has been begging for since the first moment I scented him.
The fridge softly rocks as his flat palm pushes at it, and he eases his body and his mouth-watering cock away from me.
I don’t know if I should grab him and pull him back to me. Should I risk it for a taste of my alpha? Could I go for it when he’s half-asleep and break his trust like this?
What will happen if he finds out the truth and rejects me?
He steps away and doesn’t even glance at me. I’m about as interesting as the fridge to him as he trudges off, scratching his ass, not giving a single sign he knows what he’s done.
My breath tremors in the back of my throat, my legs shaking, trying to do something other than stand there and stare at the kitchen with a blank look of shock on my face.
As I inhale through my nose and suck up more of his scent, my tension releases. I press my hands against my fluttering stomach as I finally let out a whine, and my perfume.