5. Daisy
Chapter 5
T he weekend arrives two days later. Calvin is back from hockey practice, talking about drills and puck handling. I'm happy for him, but I have no clue what he's talking about. Nate has been at the dining room table all day, wrestling with funeral arrangements and paperwork. I want to offer to help, but it doesn’t feel like my place when it’s for his father and stepmother. Plus, I’m here for Will. Calvin said we could go get his things today, and I think it will be good for him.
I have William’s diaper bag packed and ready, his favorite blanket already tucked inside. He’s in his carrier as I bring him down to the living room where Calvin waits. "Ready to go?"
He nods. "Yep." He smiles at William. "Ready for a road trip, little man?"
We head out to Calvin’s car, a surprisingly practical SUV. He opens the back door for me with a grin, and I fasten William’s carrier into the seat. As I pull back and straighten, sandalwood and lavender waft from Calvin as he closes the door and opens the passenger side for me.
I smile. "Thank you."
We're close enough it's clear, the scent is coming from him, and my stomach flutters as I slip into the car. He comes around and gets into the driver’s seat.
"That’s a nice cologne, Calvin. What brand is it?"
Calvin glances at me, puzzled. "Cologne? I’m not wearing any. I showered at the rink, and they only have unscented stuff there."
I frown. "But I smell something. Like sandalwood and lavender."
He shrugs. "Maybe it’s an air freshener? I buy them sometimes and then forget about them in the car. I don’t smell anything."
It must be an air freshener. What else could I be smelling? I shake my head. "Must be. Anyway, how long is the drive?"
He glances at the GPS. "About an hour. Should give the little man a chance to take a nap." He pulls out of the driveway and heads onto the road.
I turn to check on William, but he’s wide awake. "He’s been staying awake longer lately. He seems curious about the world, which is good. Having some of the toys and things that are familiar will help."
"What about you? What scent are you wearing? Smells floral."
I blink, surprised. "I’m not wearing any perfume. I haven’t since I started working with kids. Too many sensitivities."
He glances at me at a stoplight, opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it, turning his attention back to the road. That was odd. Maybe we’re both imagining things.
"So." I try to fill the silence. "Nate said you sometimes cook?"
Calvin grins. "Yeah, I’m the designated chef of the pack, but I wouldn’t mind cooking together. Your lasagna the other night was really good. Don’t let Peter scare you off if you like cooking. He’s just an ass. But yeah, I grew up with a big family, so I’m used to it."
I lift a brow. "How big?"
"Six younger siblings, if you can believe it." He laughs. "My mom’s an Omega, and she always wanted a lot of kids. She got her wish. She had two kids with each of her mates, well, except for my biological dad. She had three with him, counting me. But I’ve always looked at all of them as my parents. I know that’s weird to people who had Beta parents."
I shake my head. "I mean, it wasn’t what I grew up with. Just me and my mom. But seeing pack dynamics in shows always made it seem fun. You never have to be alone, and there’s a togetherness Beta families don’t quite have. Before I presented, I secretly hoped I’d be an Omega to experience that one day. I come from a long line of Betas on both sides, so the chance of me being an Omega was slim."
Calvin chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, pack life isn’t all sunshine and roses. There are squabbles, disagreements, just like any family. But the bond, that’s something else. Knowing you always have someone who has your back is wonderful."
I nod, still looking at William in the rearview mirror. "I can imagine." I turn slightly in my seat. "Do Nate and Peter get along? Besides the pack bond, I mean?"
A wry smile twists Calvin’s lips. "They’re like oil and water. Nate’s all heart, all impulse. Peter’s all logic, all control. They clash constantly. But," he shrugs, "they respect each other. And they’d do anything for each other. Or for William, now." He glances in the mirror at William again.
"And you? You seem calmer than both of them."
He laughs. "Someone’s gotta be the mediator, right? I’m the eldest. It’s in my nature. Plus," he adds with a wink, "goalies need to be calm under pressure."
I smile. "I guess that makes sense." I notice how broad Calvin’s shoulders are, the way his t-shirt stretches across his chest. He’s strong, in a way that’s both reassuring and something else. Something that makes my cheeks heat as the memory of last night’s dream surfaces, unbidden. Nate, shirtless, in my old bedroom, then Calvin beside him, his hand resting on Nate’s bare shoulder, both of them looking at me with an intensity. Thankfully, William’s cries had jolted me awake. I don’t need to be having dreams like that about my bosses.
I clear my throat. "So," I start, "the other night, Nate mentioned his dad built the pack house. Is this house similar?"
Calvin nods. "Yeah, he made good money. Real estate. This place is more traditional, though. Less glass and steel, more homey, I guess. He designed it with a family in mind." He pauses. "Stacy loved it here. She was always decorating, gardening, filling the place with life." His voice holds a hint of sadness.
We lapse into silence, and I find myself staring out the window.
The drive takes a while, but we have a few trivial conversations along the way.
"Here we are," Calvin announces, breaking the quiet as he turns into a driveway.
I look up, and my breath catches. The house is larger than I imagined. A two-story colonial with a wide porch spanning the entire front, dark green shutters framing the windows. It’s beautiful. And intimidating.
Calvin parks, and we get out. I unbuckle William and lift him out, settling him into his stroller. He’s still awake, his eyes wide and curious, taking everything in.
"Ready?" Calvin asks, giving me a reassuring smile.
I take a deep breath. "Ready."
He leads the way to the front door, punching a code into the keypad, the same as the pack house, I notice, and the door swings open.
"After you," he says, gesturing for me to enter.
I wheel William’s stroller across the threshold and step into a house frozen in time. The air is still and quiet. The space is meticulously clean. I feel like an intruder in something private, something sacred. This isn’t just a house, it’s a home filled with memories, with love and laughter and loss. Even though I never knew Nate’s father or Stacy, I can feel their presence and their absence everywhere I look.
The entryway opens into a large living room. Sunlight filters through gauzy curtains, it illuminates the family photographs that cover the walls. I go over to study them. Nate appears in several, younger and carefree. Beside him stands a handsome man, who I assume is his father. Recent images show Nate's father as older, accompanied by Stacy as she holds her pregnant belly; it had to have only been a few months ago. It really hits home how fast everything can change. You think you have all the time in the world until you don't. I look away, not wanting to cry over the thought of how little time she had with her baby.
Calvin steps up beside me, his touch gentle on my elbow, guiding me toward the staircase at the far end of the room. The soft, earthy aroma of sandalwood and lavender drifts around us, warmer with his closeness. It seems to radiate from him, even though he says wears no cologne. My skin prickles with pleasant awareness, senses heightened as warmth gathers in my center.
“His room is up here.”
His words bring me back to reality. I need to focus on what we're doing. William is important right now, not what Calvin smells like to me.
I glance at William asleep in the stroller and move to unbuckle him, so we don't have to take the stroller up the stairs. Calvin remains close, hands relaxed by his sides.
He leads me upstairs, opening a pale yellow painted door to reveal William’s nursery. The room is warm and welcoming, walls painted soft yellow with a playful mural of clouds and stars across from the door. A crib rests in one corner, with a rocking chair draped with a cozy quilt nearby. A mobile sways above the crib, moons and stars twirl in the breeze from an open window. Calvin brushes past me, his fingers drifting over my arm as he smiles. The sandalwood and lavender scent deepens, enveloping me, fueling a subtle pulse beneath my skin.
I step toward the window, needing some of the fresh air to clear my head.
Calvin moves to the closet, retrieving a small suitcase and setting it open on the plush rug.
“Take your time. Grab whatever he’ll need: clothes, blankets, toys. I'll get diapers and wipes.”
I place William in the crib, smoothing his soft curls as he settles. Then close the window, so the draft isn't hitting his face while he rests. Hopefully, the scent coming from Calvin will stop effecting me.
Turning to the dresser, I select outfits and essentials. Calvin moves through the room, collecting diapers, wipes, and baby shampoo with quiet efficiency.
He pauses at the rocking chair, fingers grazing the quilted baby blanket, tracing its intricate patterns of teddy bears and yellow duckies. He picks it up and turns toward me.
“Stacy made this for him. Every stitch was a done with love.”
I step closer, taking the blanket from Calvin’s hands. Our fingers brush, sending a small shiver down my spine. I fold the blanket and place it atop the clothes in the suitcase. William stirs again, a soft whimper breaking the silence. I lift him, cradling him close.
“He’s lucky. Stacy’s love for him is still here, even if she isn’t.”
Calvin comes over, his fingers brushing William’s tiny hand. His proximity amplifies the scent, increasing the gentle ache that's growing in my center. My heartbeat quickens, and I focus on William, trying to ground myself in the innocence of the moment.
“He’s calmer now. The first two days, he cried a lot. You’ve had a good effect on him. Stacy would have loved seeing this.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. It hurts that she can't be here for him instead, but I'm glad I've helped eased his stress over his mother disappearing.
“He deserves it. I just want him to feel safe.”
Calvin glances at the packed suitcase and diaper bag.
“We've got enough for today. If you need anything else, we can always come back.” He picks up the bags and carries them.
We move downstairs, William resting content in my arms. Before I place him in the stroller and push it out the door as Calvin holds it open from me. The brightness outside contrasts with the heaviness within the house.
Calvin opens the car door, placing the diaper bag inside. I settle William into his car seat, buckling him with care. He places the suitcase and stroller in the trunk, closing it before standing close beside me again. The familiar, enticing scent surrounds me once more as he opens the passenger door for me. I have to resist the urge to bury my face in his chest and inhale. What is wrong with me? I have to be ovulating early or something. That's the only time I get horny by dudes like this.
“William’s lucky to have you.”
His words take me off guard as I lift my head to meet his gaze. "That's sweet of you to say. Thank you." I brush past him and get in the car. I'm going to have to roll down the window, so I can concentrate while on the way home.
Nate meets us at the door, his face etched with worry. "How was it?" His gaze goes to William, who's now fussing in my arms.
"We got a good selection of things." Calvin lifts the diaper bag and suitcase. "Clothes, blankets."
"He just needs a feeding." I glance at William. "And probably a nap."
Nate reaches for William, his arms outstretched. "I can take him. I've missed him."
I hand William over, and Nate cuddles him close, burying his face in him's soft hair.
I head toward the kitchen, the need to prepare a bottle a familiar, comforting routine. As I mix the formula, I hear Nate and Calvin talking behind me. Their words fade into background noise as I focus on the task at hand.
I turn around, holding the bottle up. "It's ready." I bring it over to Nate who takes it before he sits down at the kitchen table.
Nate rocks William gently, but he squirms and starts fussing again when he offers him the bottle. A slightly helpless expression crosses Nate’s face. "He's being picky."
I step closer, reaching out. "Here, let me."
Nate shakes his head, gripping the bottle tighter. "No, I've got it." He tries to offer it to William again, but he turns his head away, his cries intensifying.
His frustration builds, his jaw tightening. "Maybe he's not hungry?"
I fold my arms, watching William fuss. "He hasn't eaten since we left. He needs to eat."
Nate exhales, trying again, but William just pushes the bottle away. Nate's shoulders tense, a flicker of defeat in his eyes.
I reach for William. "Let me try."
Nate hesitates, then sighs before handing him over. "He always eats for you."
I settle William in my arms, offering him the bottle again. This time, he latches, sucking contentedly. I lower myself into a chair at the round kitchen table, keeping William cradled close.
Nate watches us, a complex mix of emotions crossing his face—relief, but also something else.
I rub William’s back, my voice softer. "He probably just senses your stress, Nate. It's been a lot in a short amount of time. This time last week, you weren’t dealing with any of this, and he had his parents around. It will get easier once things settle down. The more you relax, the more he will, too."
Calvin, who leans against the island and nods before pushing away and walking over to the table. "She's right. Babies pick up on everything."
Nate drags a hand through his dark blonde hair, then pulls out a chair and sits across from me. "I know, I know. It's just…" His elbows land on the table, fingers pressing into his temples. "This whole funeral planning thing is a nightmare. Even with a planner, it's insane. So many details. Flowers, music, the eulogy, and the cost. Peter's going to have a stroke when he sees the bills."
Calvin snorts, shaking his head. "He probably already knows. He's got his spies everywhere."
Nate grimaces, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, well, he can yell at me later. Right now, I just need to get through this." His gaze drops to William. "At least one of us is calm."
I hum. "He's a good baby. He's just adjusting, like all of us."
Nate exhales. "Adjusting. That's one word for it."
A silence falls. I study Nate's face, he looks like he's aged a decade in the last day.
William finishes his bottle, I set it on the table and gently burp him, settling him against my shoulder. He lets out two small ones before he sighs and lays his head against my shoulder.
Calvin grins. "He's out. You've got the magic touch."
I shift William in my arms. "He's just tired, lots of stimulation with the car rides and being in his old nuersery for a bit."
Nate watches us, his expression softening. Then, his nostrils flare as he sniffs the air. "Does anyone else smell… flowers?"
The question catches me off guard. I hadn’t noticed a floral scent before, but that's what Clavin said in the car, too, when he asked if I was wearing perfume. What is noticeable to me is the sandalwood I'd attributed to Calvin in the car. It's stronger now, richer, with a distinct undertone of lavender. And mixed with it, another scent—warm and unique—coming from Nate, like old leather.
Calvin lifts his head, sniffing. A puzzled look crosses his face. "Yeah, I do. It's been faint all day, but it's gotten stronger. Kind of flowery. Daisy, you said you weren’t wearing any perfume, right?"
I shake my head, gripping William a little tighter. "I'm not. I haven't in years." Where are these scents coming from?
Nate stands, walking a slow circle, sniffing. "It's weird. It's everywhere, but nowhere specific."
Calvin follows suit, moving toward a window before retracing his steps toward the hallway. "I don’t get it. It’s not coming from outside."
I remain seated, holding William, confusion churning inside me. The sandalwood and lavender are definitely there, seemingly emanating from Nate and Calvin, but the floral scent Nate mentioned. I don’t smell that at all. It’s just the two of them and it’s intense.
Nate stops pacing, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe it's the cleaning products the housekeeper uses?" The doubt in his voice is obvious.
Calvin sighs, crossing his arms. "Maybe." His sharp gaze locks onto me. "Daisy, are you sure you're not wearing anything floral like body wash?"
My pulse quickens. "Positive." My voice comes out unsteady. "I don’t even own any perfume and my body wash is lightly coconut scented."
The three of us fall silent. William stirs in my arms, letting out a small whimper. I rock him gently, rising from my seat. "Excuse me, I'm going to go take him to the nursery."
It’s a flimsy excuse, a way to escape the strange and unsettling conversation, but I need a moment to collect myself. This whole scent thing is making my head spin. I’ve only ever seen this kind of dynamic—Alphas with distinct scents, Omegas with theirs—in romance movies. It can't mean… No. It’s impossible.
I’m a Beta.
I wake with a start. My heart pounds against my ribs. Darkness surrounds me, the only illumination coming from the digital clock's faint glow: 3:17 AM. I could have sworn I heard William crying.
Reaching for the baby monitor beside the bed, I switch on the video feed. The nursery is visible in the soft, infrared light, and I can see William asleep in his crib, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He's fine. I sigh, letting my head fall back against the pillow; relief washes over me. Just a dream. Closing my eyes, I try to sink back into sleep.
Knock, knock.
The soft sound makes me jump. I sit up, pulling the covers up around my neck. "Come in."
The door creaks open, and the familiar scent of sandalwood washes over me as three figures stand silhouetted in the doorway. As they step further into the room, the moonlight from the skylight catches and illuminates their bare, toned chests.
Nate stands at the front. My gaze travels over the broad span of his shoulders, down the sculpted ridges of his abs, the dip of muscle disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants. His green eyes glint with something deep and primal, locking onto me like a hunter closing in on its prey.
To his right, Calvin stands with his thick, muscular arms crossed. The soft moonlight accentuates every defined ridge of his biceps, the sheer power he exudes impossible to ignore. And then there's Peter, silent and unreadable, his blue eyes flickering behind his glasses, his presence more restrained but no less commanding. His lean frame is deceptive, the cut of his muscles subtly honed beneath his skin. The quiet intensity in his stare sends a thrill racing through me.
All three of them watch me with an unmistakable hunger that sends a jolt, hot and electric, through my body. My breath catches, my thighs pressing together as my pulse hammers in my throat. The air thickens with the scent of them—sandalwood, sweet lavender, leather, and the deep, smoky spice of black pepper. It seeps into my lungs, curling around my senses, making my head spin.
Our alphas have come for us. Finally .
A voice, my voice, but deeper, more primal, whispers at the back of my mind.
My body hums, warmth curling low in my belly, spreading like wildfire through my limbs. My nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric of my sleep shirt, heat pooling between my thighs. I grip the covers tighter, but it does nothing to ground me.
They haven’t moved, haven’t spoken, just stand there. The silence stretches, thick and charged. Their gazes feel heavy, possessive.
"What do you want?" The question barely escapes, breathless and uncertain from my throat.
Nate moves first, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. "You, Daisy." His voice is a low rumble. "You're our Omega. And we're here to take care of you."
As he moves, I notice he's wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants; the fabric doing little to hide the evidence of his erection. My breath stutters, my gaze drawn to the unmistakable outline pressing against the material.
A slow smirk curves his lips. "You're in heat. We'll take care of all your needs."
My stomach flips, an undeniable pull coiling inside me. My eyes flick to Calvin, then Peter. Their expressions darken, their bodies tensed like they're barely holding themselves back.
I shift, hyperaware of the cool air licking over my bare skin. My covers have slipped. I'm naked; I don't remember undressing.
Calvin growls low in his throat, his eyes dropping to the exposed curves of my breasts, my nipples tight and aching. The sound rakes down my spine, pooling heat between my legs. A desperate need pulses inside me, relentless and impossible to ignore.
Nate kneels onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. The heat of his body is palpable, his scent wrapping around me like a vise. His fingers trace a slow, deliberate path up my leg. The roughness of his calloused fingertips leaves goosebumps in their wake.
A sharp cry pierces the haze. William. For real this time.
I jolt upright, my body on fire, my breathing ragged. The room is dark, filled with William’s cries. I can't believe that was just a dream. A vivid, inappropriate dream. My skin is overheated and my thighs slippery through my shorts with how turned on I am. I push myself out of bed and hurry to the nursery. Will needs me, and I can't be a mess right now—even if the ache between my legs is unbearable. What the fuck was that? Some kind of Omega fantasy?
The nursery is dimly lit by the nightlight. William wails, his face scrunched, arms and legs flailing. I rush to the crib.
"Hey, sweet boy, what's wrong?" I reach down. The scent of a soiled diaper hits me, at this point it's a welcome distraction. "Okay, let's get you changed."
I carry him to the changing table, my movements shaky. I remove the dirty diaper, wipe him clean. His cries soften to whimpers as I apply diaper cream and fasten a fresh diaper. Focusing on him seems to help ease the ache and the unreal horniness that overtook me. At least I can focus on Will and not be distracted by my own needs.
"There you go, all better." I lift him. He settles against my chest, sniffling. "Hungry, too? Is that it?"
I carry him out of the nursery and down the stairs to the kitchen. The house is quiet. I prepare a bottle, my body still humming with residual heat from the dream, a heat that refuses to dissipate no matter how hard I push it down.
Once the bottle is ready, I head back upstairs to the nursery, settling into the rocking chair. I offer William the bottle. He latches on, his whimpers subsiding as he feeds.
The room is quiet, only the soft sounds of William sucking and the gentle creak of the rocking chair. I gaze down at his face. His features relax, his eyes fluttering closed as he drifts, full and content, back to sleep. Tenderness washes over me. This is real. This matters.
I rock him for a few minutes longer, even after he’s finished. Then I rise and gently lay him back in his crib, tucking his blanket around him. He sighs softly but doesn't wake.I leave the bottle on his dresser, I'll clean it in a few hours. I don't want to go back downstairs right now.
I tiptoe out of the nursery, leaving the door ajar, and head back to my room. As I reach the doorway, a sudden, sharp cramp grips my lower abdomen. I gasp, clutching at my stomach, the unexpected pain doubling me over. A wave of heat crashes over me, leaving me drenched in sweat, breathless, aching.
I stumble towards the bathroom, my mind racing. Another cramp, sharper this time, clenches low in my belly. My period. But it's not due for another two weeks. My cramps are never this bad. This feels different.
The pressure between my legs is unbearable, my clit throbbing with a need so insistent it steals my breath. A whimper escapes before I can stop it. My thighs press together instinctively, but it does nothing to ease the ache. I want to touch myself, need to, but I can’t, not now.
This isn't just from a dream. This is something else. Something more. It can't be what I'm thinking.
Turning, I go back to my room.My gaze flicks toward the nightstand where my dildo is tucked away, untouched for months. The thought of using it sends another hot pulse of need through me, but I shove the idea aside. I pace my room, panting, as the heat in my body builds. The air is thick, suffocating. My clothes stick to my skin. And then, the scent hits me: sandalwood, leather, lavender, spice. It’s everywhere. It pulls me back out to the hall.
It’s coming from them.
My feet carry me toward Nate’s door before I can think better of it. My clit pulses in time with my racing heartbeat, the ache between my legs unbearable. The thought of their scent, their hands, their mouths—it sends another shuddering wave of need crashing through me. I can’t. They can’t know. If they find out, I'll be out of a job, and I'll have to leave after getting attached to William. I'm not sure I could take that pain so soon again. I know it will have to happen one day, but not now.
My head turns toward the laundry room next to Calvin's. I think back to the Omega romance movies I've watched and how being around an Alpha's scent, having their clothes to sleep with, helps push off their heats. My feet carry me that way. I know Nate and Calvin both like to toss their clothes on the floor to deal with later in the week.
Pushing open the door, I find two piles, just as expected. Peter doesn’t keep his clothes up here. I get the feeling he only takes the stairs once a week to avoid dealing with the pain. He limps a lot and always looks angry, so I have to assume it’s the pain causing his sour mood.
I glance around, making sure no one will see me, and then I snatch the black shirt from Nate’s pile and the flannel from Calvin’s. I dart back to my room, feeling like the strangest thief in the world before I close the door and walk over to my bed. The urge to bury my face in them is too strong. I sit down on the edge of the mattress and bring them both to my nose. I inhale deeply and have to suppress a moan.
Fuck, that’s good. My nipples harden, pressing against the cotton of my shirt. I lie back on the bed, rolling to my side as I continue to inhale. The dampness in my underwear and pajama shorts is ridiculous. I rub my thighs together, trying to get relief without touching myself, but it’s not working.
"Just this once." The words rasp out of my throat. "Just to ease the pressure. It’s the dream. That’s all. This isn’t what I think it is." A pathetic lie, but I cling to it.
I shove my pajama bottoms and underwear off, shivering as the cool air brushes against my overheated skin. I collapse back onto the bed, the sheets a brief relief against my fevered body, but it does nothing to ease the ache burning inside me.
My hand moves at a sluggish pace, filled with hesitation. It hovers. Then my fingers slip between my legs, my other hand pressing their shirts to my face like some kind of fiend. Fuck, I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life. I’ve never had so much arousal coating my fingers before I’ve even begun.
A gasp escapes. My fingers find my swollen clit. My hips buck at the contact as I spread my fingers in a V and squeeze. The pleasure is sharp, immediate. I use their shirts to muffle the cry that rises in my throat. I run my fingers back and forth over the nub, trying to get the release that hovers just out of reach. My hips rock, desperate for more friction. I need more.
I press harder, faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The pleasure builds, the coil of tension in my lower belly tightening. I clench the shirts for dear life, knuckles white. I’m close. So close. My muscles tense to the point of breaking, but I can’t hold on long enough to come. They shake, and as they release, my chance at an orgasm goes with them.
I groan, breath hitching, pushing my fingers harder against my clit. My body is right there, teetering, the pleasure unbearable, but no matter how much I rub, how much I grind, I can’t push myself over the edge. I roll my hips, trying to chase it, but it slips further away.
"Come on." Teeth clenched, I grind down, twisting my fingers, pressing harder into my nub. It still doesn’t work. My body is desperate, trembling, sweat slicking my skin, but the orgasm won’t come. My clit pulses, over-sensitive, aching for more. No matter how much I stroke, rub, or roll my hips, it won’t happen. The pleasure builds and fades, a cruel tease, leaving me panting and writhing in frustration.
I whimper, nails digging into my thigh. My fingers keep moving, keep searching, but it’s useless. My body refuses to give me the relief I need. The frustration is unbearable, my skin hot; my muscles tremble from exertion.
A fine layer of sweat clings to my skin as I struggle for breath.. I sink back against the pillows, legs shaky, body spent, yet still thrumming with unfulfilled need. The heat lingers. My hand falls to the side, aching too, as my muscles refuse to keep going.
Frustration claws at me. My fingers flex, aching to try again, but I know it’s useless. My gaze flicks toward the nightstand, where my dildo is tucked away. My last resort. My breath shudders as I force myself up, legs trembling, and yank open the drawer.
The smooth blue silicone is familiar against my palm as I retrieve it. I don’t waste time settling back onto the bed, spreading my legs. The tip presses against my entrance, and I push it inside with a sharp intake of breath. My walls clench around it, my body eager, desperate for relief. I thrust it in, as deep as it will go; pulling it out and slamming it back in with a force I've never used before, trying to hit something, anything, that will tip me over the edge.
Nothing.
It feels wrong. Too small. Not enough. The stretch is barely there, the fullness unsatisfying. I move faster, twisting it, angling it differently, but all it does is tease, just like my fingers. The pleasure is there, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough.
I choke out a frustrated sound, yanking the toy out and throwing it onto the bed beside me. My body aches, unsatisfied, the need pulsing stronger than before. My chest heaves as I press my palms over my face, dragging them down.
Fuck. I’m an Omega. I’m going to be out of another job. I'll be homeless; no one wants to hire an Omega. The shelter will be my only option. I’m not the Beta they wanted. What am I going to do? I have to care for William. How can I do it if I’m a horny mess?