9. The Nesties
The Nesties
Kelya
Imeet my date, Marcus, for lunch. Instead of eating, he takes me to his hotel and fucks me within an inch of my life.
I lay on the bed with my ass in the air, and he hisses and grunts the whole time he fucks me from behind.
He’s never been with an omega before, so he’s shocked by the amount of slick. It gets him very hard.
I’ve been dying to suck a good dick recently, but this guy, a college basketball player here with his family, just wants to fuck. He hasn’t stopped talking the whole time.
He continues to say every thought he thinks: look at your ass; I’ve never done anything like this; god you’re so hot; I’m going to fuck this pussy so good; let me hear you, babydoll; is my dick good for you?
He fucks me so good that when he pulls out and comes on my backside, I just let him. Then I roll to the side, hug the blankets, and take a small nap.
When I wake up, he’s sleeping next to me. Dick still out, and stuck to his thigh.
There’s a churning in my gut.
I don’t feel good.
I get off the bed, find my dress and shoes, check my hair in the mirror, steal his gold chain he left on the dresser, and leave with my purse over my shoulder. I’m groggy as all hell.
I put the chain in my mouth and make sure the hotel cameras see nothing in my hands.
In the elevator, I open my purse under the camera so it can see only my room key and chapstick.
I put on the chapstick, then fix my clothes, patting down my body again to show I didn’t leave with this man’s gold chain.
Down the street, I take it out of my mouth.
Yuck.
The metal taste lingers in my mouth.
I’m glad I didn’t agree to meet Dave tonight. I’m going to get something to eat and then go to bed. My hands are shaking, and I’m feeling kind of loopy. The horizon tilts when I keep my eyes open too long.
I stop in a small bistro and order a salad and fries. I also get a Pina Colada. Because why not? The food sort of helps. I wrap the chain a few times around my wrist.
It’s pretty ugly. I think I need to sell it.
I’ll ask Dave.
I bet he can get me a good price.
I wonder how I’ll steal his boat. I’m sure the opportunity will present itself, like it always does.
Dave is kind of cute. Sweet as hell. I overheard him on the phone with his daughter. He offered her money three times, using the softest voice. Women definitely run through him, and he’s learned nothing.
The salad is doing its job, filling my belly, but the fries are making me tired. Or maybe it’s the Mai Thai I ordered after I finished my Pina Colada. Whatever the case, I can barely keep my eyes open. That tilted feeling comes back.
As I tip over, I grab onto the tablecloth, sending everything flying. When the server pulls me up, it’s obvious I’ve also thrown up.
“Good god! Are you ok?” he asks.
“No? I don’t feel well…”
I throw up again.
Patrons gasp and make gagging noises. It’s a good thing I’m outside. I grab my purse and hold it close to my chest.
“I think I need to go home. Check?”
“Don’t worry about it. Do you need help getting home?” He ensures I can stand on my own. I can. Sort of.
While I stumble away with as much dignity as I can imagine, I think about pretending to do this sometime in the future to get out of paying for a meal. Right now though, I’m legitimately ill.
Shivers climb up and down my body and underneath my skin.
If I keep my eyes open, the world spins in the wrong direction, but if I close my eyes, I can’t see.
My heart races, and I’m genuinely worried.
I stumble into a wall and try to find my breath. I know I didn’t get drugged, like I almost did last night. I know that I don’t have a cold or that my heat has come early.
I have what I call “the nesties.”
The nesties are stupid.
I have this biological and primal desire to do what omegas do—make a fuck-ass nest and crawl inside of it. The problem is I’m special. I can’t do what most omegas do and nest where they are. My inner omega is particular and wants a very specific nest, but I’ll be damned if I give it to her.
Instead, I try new places, new alphas, new scents and clothing and items. I’m operating on the false hope that I can get her to want something else. It will appease my inner omega, and I’ll stop being so sick.
Maybe if I can find my breath, I can go out to a club or somewhere to go dancing. I love dancing. Maybe the next scent I smell or item I steal will be the one that teaches my inner omega we can move on.
My palms are wet with sweat, and I find myself humming to keep from crumpling to the ground.
For some reason, it isn’t that lovely little room that I’m thinking about though—my nest back in Saint Kane—instead, I keep thinking about that cypress smelling alpha that held a hand over my mouth, holding my jaw shut so he could whisper in my ear.
The strong hold his single hand had on my wrists.
I press my face into the rough wall and imagine how my arms were pulled back so I couldn’t move at all.
My out-of-control heart starts to slow.
When he freed me, it released a rush of endorphins, and I got a little high. That part is also what I’d like to relive. The release. The blood rushing back into my limbs, now renewed.
I take a mouthful of air in, imagining it's cypress instead of empanadas frying nearby that I smell.
There’s my breath. There it is. In and out.
See? The nesties never last too long. I can usually breathe my way through the pain. I’m depleted and sore now, but I make a quick stop at the convenience store for a sports drink and a candy bar, then I slowly make my way back to the hotel.
The man at the front desk, Rodrigo, perks up when he sees me. He waves me over and tells me they’ve decided to comp my room for my entire stay. I look at him, and he gestures towards a man at the entrance of the bar. Security. He’s got his shirt tucked in and is watching every patron like a hawk.
“We will ensure your stay here is a safe one, Omega.”
I nod.
Again, I usually would be excited to stumble upon this type of situation, but the nesties have left me feeling hollow.
“Thank you. I already feel safer.”
He gives me a big smile, and I leave to my room. When I arrive, I lock the door, drink the whole sports drink, and take off all of my clothes. I curl up in a chair with a blanket and fall asleep.
A bed is too much like a nest and makes me sick to be in it because it’s not the one I want.