Chapter Fourteen
Rue
The hotel was lovely. The airport route wasn’t one I’d taken often, and I’d never been to the hotel about three miles off the main highway in a little valley overlooking a small jewel of a lake.
It was one of those boutique places where the price of a room for the night was probably the same as an average person’s monthly rent.
He’d been a little vague about the extent of his wealth, but we checked in and were whisked right up to the top floor of the hotel in less time than it would normally have taken me to actually get the attention of the desk clerk at one of the roadside motels I’d stayed in before.
Although our reservation had been made only moments before our arrival—as in, in the parking lot—our room was ready and when we entered it, vases of fresh flowers with cards welcoming us by name. I didn’t even know they could do that. And so fast.
I strolled to the window and looked out. “We can take a walk to the lake if you like?”
His heat and scent drifted to me before his arms came around me from behind.
“If you want,” he said into my ear. “Or we can stay here in the suite and have a small bite to eat. I can order from room service.” He’d called it a room on check-in, but we had a living room, kitchenette verging on a full-kitchen size, two bedrooms, and at least two bathrooms. I hadn’t taken a tour or anything, but from what I could see, it was the kind of suite I’d book if royalty came to visit.
“Well, it has been an awfully busy day. I might be a little tired.”
He caught my earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. “Well, if you’re tired, there’s only one place to be.”
“Where is that?” I asked, turning in his hold. “Tell me, alpha.”
He scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. “Right here.”
I could barely hear him over the banging of my heart and a loud chitter from my raccoon before he subsided deep within me, giving my mate and I privacy for this moment.
I sank into the pillows, instantly aware of the comfort money could buy.
The mattress had a topper several inches thick; the pillows were down fluffiness such as I’d never experienced. The comforter as well.
I stiffened, feeling out of place. Me, a trash panda reared in one of the poorest gazes anywhere.
My shop filled with people’s castoffs, no matter how nice.
Was this how my mate lived? Going from one hotel to the next just like this?
Would he expect this sort of thing out of our life together—if we had one?
How long before he realized I wasn’t a luxury shifter, but just a thrift store raccoon?
“Where did you go?” Pascal shook me, gently. While I got lost in my head, he’d joined me on the bed and was now leaning over me, studying my face. “Omega, are you all right?”
“I-I yes, no…is it too late to just go home?”
“Of course not, if that’s what you want, but can you tell me what changed? Then I promise we’ll go if you still feel that way.”
I shook my head back and forth, trying to pull the tears back in, but they were streaking down my cheeks, from a trickle to a flood.
“I’m not this kind of raccoon. My sheets are low-thread-count mixed fiber, and yours are probably Egyptian cotton and silk.
I wasn’t raised to the finer things in life.
Even after my second dad came, we didn’t have a lot, not like your family. ”
“Like mine?” he chuckled, stroking my hair back and shaking his head. “What gave you the impression I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth?”
“Weren’t you?” Everything about him sang of wealth and polish, of someone who’d been comfortable their whole life.
“No. My fathers did okay, and they were an inspiration to me. Mostly because their families had been very poor, struggle-bus broke most of the time, and both my dads worked their butts off to get to a better situation. And to be able to help their folks out of the shacks they lived in and into nice homes for their old age. When you meet my fathers, even though I’m always trying to give them whatever they want, you’ll see what I mean.
They don’t live fancy, and neither do I.
Sure, I stay in nice hotels when I travel because if I can’t be at home, I have to have some comforts.
But I’ve never had a bed like this, and I won’t.
” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Unless that’s what you want? Because I’m a giver like that.”
He said it with such intensity, the cloud of gloom over my head dissipated, replaced by laughter. “And modest,” I reminded him. “You forgot that part.”
“Right.” Pascal dropped onto his back, next to me. “Now, if we’ve established my humble perfection, weren’t you going to make love to me?”
“Alpha, how can I resist you.” I rolled on top of him and straddled his hips, bending to kiss him but then straightened. “Just no marking, yet, okay?”
“All right, omega. Nothing you’re not ready for.”
That was the only thing I wasn’t ready for.
With a new understanding between us, the mood lightened and we undressed each other quickly, lots of kissing and stroking and touching of places, learning one another’s bodies before he knelt at the foot of the bed and pulled me lower down.
He tested my slick and smiled. “Why, omega, an alpha could feel very welcome here.”
“Just shut up and fuck me, alpha. I want you inside me before I come just from all the foreplay.”
He did as I asked, plunging into me with no further delay, stretching me to the edge of pain before it all melted into pleasure, and I clung to him, my cock in his fist, somehow, so that way too soon, I was spurting onto his belly and chest, groaning his name.
“Omega, I…” He stopped moving, his cum filling my hole before he fell to the side and enfolded me in his arms.
At that point, I couldn’t have told anyone whether we were in a luxury suite or a shack on the river.
It wasn’t the thread count of the sheets; it was the alpha who held me close, making me feel happy and complete and secure in his affections.
Maybe it had been a mistake to wait to be marked, but I’d made my decision, and I had to hope it was the right one.