In knots, p.4
In Knots, page 4
“Oh.”
“You never tasted yourself before?” I blush, unable to respond. More silence. “But you’ve touched yourself before.”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Made yourself come?”
“Yes.”
“You wanna come now?”
I make a little needy groan in response, a sound I have no control over at all. He swears again under his breath.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another blow of air. “Now taste yourself, princess.”
I draw my fingers out of my underwear and up to my mouth, hesitating before I wrap my lips around my digits and suck.
“Are you doing it?”
“Uh-huh,” I answer, my fingers still in my mouth.
“Tell me how it tastes?”
“Musky and … sweet.”
“Sweet,” he repeats wistfully. “I bet you taste like vanilla ice cream, all sweet and creamy. My favourite flavour.” I smile. “Shit, I want to taste that.”
I shudder at his words, the flush in my cheeks spreading through my body.
“Omega,” he says, capturing my attention again, “make your fingers nice and wet and touch yourself again.”
My wet fingers creep back to my underwear, and I rest my fingers against my throbbing clit.
“Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes,” I answer, moving my fingers over my nub.
“How? How are you touching yourself, baby? Are you flicking that little bean?”
“Hmmm.”
“That’s how you do it?”
“Yes,” I murmur, loving the sound of his voice in my ear.
“OK, then, we’re going to do this a little differently. Are your fingers nice and wet?”
They are sopping with my slick. “Yes.”
“Then I want you to circle that special little nub of yours instead, slowly, slowly sweep your fingers around it.” I obey his order. “Are you doing that for me?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Shit, love it when you call me that. Love it when you touch yourself and call me alpha. You got me so hard here, princess.”
A mewl escapes my lips as my fingers awaken every nerve ending, pleasure flowing between my legs as well as slick. I’m going to need to change the sheets.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Is he touching himself? I’m too shy to ask, but I hope he is. The dirty thought of his alpha cock in his hand, of him pumping himself, floats into my mind. So filthy, and yet it makes me even wetter. “Here’s what I want you to do next, close your eyes, Omega, and imagine that’s me working between your legs, that it’s my tongue caressing your sweet bean. Around and around. My hot mouth pressed against you.”
“Oh,” I gasp as it all starts to overwhelm me – his voice, the image, my touch.
“Licking you good baby, like a goddamn vanilla ice cream. Eating you out until your thighs are clamped around my head, your fingers tugging on my hair.”
“Alpha,” I whine.
“That’s it, Omega. You’re doing so well. Such a good girl, aren’t you? Gonna come now. Gonna come for me, nice and noisy so I can hear, going to cry out into this phone, then lead it down between your legs so I can hear the wet squelch of your cunt clenching as you do.”
God, his mouth is filthy. I never knew how turned on that could make me.
My fingers skirt around my quivering clit one more time and I fall apart, moaning loudly into the phone just as he demanded.
“Your cunt. I need to hear your cunt,” he rasps and still riding the wave of this orgasm, I screw up my eyes and thrust the phone between my legs, my spine arching and my body jolting with every fresh wave of bliss.
Then I collapse into the mattress, gasping for air, my cheeks on fire when I realise what I’ve just done. I cover my face with my hand, then slowly, cringing inside, I bring the phone back to my ear.
His breath grasps down the receiver. “Omega? Omega? Are you still there?”
“Y-y-yes,” I pant, and we are both silent, catching our breaths.
“Are you OK, baby?” he whispers, finally. “You OK with what we just did?”
I swallow, trying to hold back the tide of shame that threatens to swamp me. “I … I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice shaking in my throat.
“Don’t regret it. You sounded perfect, beautiful.”
“I shouldn’t have …” I start, too confused and embarrassed to continue.
“All that crap they tell you about this being dirty and wrong, it’s not the truth. The truth is how I made you feel, how you made yourself feel. Remember that. Promise me?”
I dig my nails into my thigh, fighting those emotions inside me.
“Alexa?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me how perfect and beautiful you are?”
“I can’t.” I shake my head. My body buzzes, it feels so light I’m almost floating. Yet my mind is trying to anchor me back down to reality.
“Well, we’re going to work on that.” I hear his boots on hard gravel. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Shopping,” I groan, making a face he can’t see.
“You don’t sound happy about it. I thought you princesses liked to shop.”
“Not this one, but my mother is dragging me to buy a dress for my date.”
“Date?” His voice is suddenly tight with tension. I cringe. What a bitch he must think I am! He got me off moments ago and here I am talking about a date with another man. Although I’m pretty certain he must have other women. Lots of women.
“Next Thursday. I don’t want to go,” I add quickly.
“Then why are you?”
“My parents,” I say, rolling onto my side and curling into my pillow. “They are desperate for me to find a mate.”
“Why?”
A brittle laugh breaks from my throat. “Finding me the perfect match is all they’ve cared about for as long as I can remember.”
“So, this man,” his voice is still tight, “the one you’re going on a date with,” he says the word ‘date’ with contempt, “is he your perfect match?”
“They seem to think so, my parents, I mean.”
“And you?”
“No,” I whisper. More silence.
He doesn’t ask what I’m doing the day after tomorrow or the day after that. Is that it then? One chance and I blew it.
“I’ll come and fetch you, right now. All you have to do is ask,” he tells me, and I shiver, biting hard on my lip to stop from telling him yes, come, come and take me away.
Chapter 5
To my surprise I sleep like a log. Not my usual restless sleep, staring up at the ceiling in the early hours of the morning. My tumbling thoughts don’t keep me awake. Instead, my sated and satisfied body pulls my mind under, and I sleep until I hear my mother calling me.
Jonathan drives us to Dover Street, lined with all the designer and exclusive boutiques and my mother drags me from one shop to the next, searching for an outfit that meets her satisfaction.
Finally, we end up in a shop whose target market is obviously wealthy omegas like us. Floaty summer dresses, pretty skirts with matching blouses, and ball dresses in a rainbow of pastels hang from every rack.
My mother prowls the shop, pulling out clothes and handing them to an attentive shop assistant. When the woman’s arms are full, I’m sent to the dressing room and instructed to try each outfit on one at a time, coming out from the curtain for my mother to inspect me each time.
They all seem the same to me. They look perfectly nice. Conservative, respectable, yet feminine, advertising the qualities that make me an omega, my diminutive size and curvy figure.
I’m so bored of clothes like this, though. Bored of the floaty material, the pale colours, the high necklines and low hems. I imagine the kind of girls Ryan dates, the outfits they wear. A mixture of dark and vibrant colours, low necklines, and short hems. Clothes I long to own.
The dressing room is a little too hot, the heatwave showing no signs of abating and the aircon in the shop insufficient, the perfume sickly sweet. My stomach aches and I want nothing more than to lie out in the shade and read my book.
No, that’s a lie. There’s something I want a lot more than that and my skin seems to itch for it.
His touch.
His words.
I stand statue-still as my mother circles me, tugging on the straps of the pale pink dress I’m wearing and adjusting the waist.
“I think this one. What do you think, Alexa? Alexa?”
My eyes snap her way. “What?”
“Honestly,” my mother tuts, “you could show a little more enthusiasm. Don’t you want to impress this alpha?”
“Of course,” I say with no feeling.
“Well?” I stare at her blankly and she tuts a second time. “Do you like the dress?”
“Yes, mother.”
My mother turns to the shop assistant. “Ring it up please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman responds, unclipping the label from my dress.
I disappear behind the curtain and strip off the dress and stand in my underwear, gazing at the mirror. His words from last night drift into my ear and I have to force them away. I don’t want my mother smelling my arousal.
“If you’re quick, we can make lunch at the club. Josephine will be there today and I need to pin her down for her contribution to the foundation auction,” my mother calls.
“Oh,” I mumble, “I have a stomachache. I think I’d rather go home and lie down.”
“Hmmm,” my mother says with irritation.
“I don’t mind waiting here while Jonathan drives you.” My mother is a terrible driver.
“And leave you alone?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll potter around the shops a bit longer and wait for Jonathan to come back for me.” I pull on the flared skirt and plain cotton top I was wearing and slide out from the curtain.
“Your father would have a fit if he found out I’d left you alone.”
“I won’t tell him.”
She observes my face, obviously mulling it over. “I really do need to catch Josephine, and it is a respectable area. I really don’t think any harm would befall you here.”
“Exactly,” I say, “and Jonathan can come straight back and fetch me.”
“OK,” my mother nods, “but don’t tell your father.”
“I won’t,” I smile, flopping down on the sofa beside her and resting my head against her shoulder. She strokes my cheek, then stands up and motions to Jonathan, who’s been waiting patiently in the corner. “Be good, darling, and any trouble you phone us straight away.”
“Mother, I’ll be fine. I’m going to go and look at those skirts from the first shop.”
Me showing some enthusiasm for my mother’s passion for shopping seems to seal the deal. She kisses the crown of my head and wanders over to the desk, paying for my dress and handing the bag to Jonathan to carry.
“I’ll see you at home later, darling.”
“Bye, mother,” I wave, Jonathan shooting me a somewhat suspicious glance before they leave. I force myself to wait five whole minutes, browsing around the shop. The shop assistant watches me with curiosity from behind the desk. She’s my age, a beta, and I know despite seeing omegas in the shop every day, we must remain a source of fascination.
When the minutes are up, I dash straight out of the shop, swinging my gaze up and down the street to be sure my mother and Jonathan have definitely gone. Then I hurry along the road in the direction of home. It’s a thirty-minute walk, but I practically sprint the whole way, my body streaming with sweat by the time I reach the house.
I disappear into the cool shade inside and dial his number straight away. My chest heaves and I’m thankful he doesn’t answer straight away, giving me time to catch my breath.
“Princess,” he says when he answers. “What can I do for you?”
“I …” I realise I don’t know what to say to him. In my hurry to get home, I didn’t think this through. I’m going to sound like a pathetic, desperate little omega however I phrase this. “I’m free now,” I finally mutter. “I was hoping …”
“You want to see me?”
“Y-y-es,” I stutter, my already flushed cheeks, burning fiercer.
“I’m working, princess.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling as if he’s thrown a bucket of icy cold water straight over my head, a dose of reality. Last night was obviously just a bit of fun. I should be playing it cool, not racing all the way home in the hope I can see him.
“But,” he continues, “it’s a beautiful day. I could be persuaded to take the afternoon off.”
“It has to be now,” I say, calculating how long it will be before Jonathan returns to the shops and starts searching for me. I need to jump in my car and be long gone before then, otherwise, he’ll stop me. It’s very well me sneaking off behind his back, that he can blame me for, but letting me go with his knowledge and his blessing is a different story altogether.
“Now,” he repeats, “I have a feeling you’re used to getting your own way, princess.”
I take a little involuntary step backward. “No,” I blurt out, “I’m not.”
I hear him rub his fingers over the stubble on his chin, the bristles crackling. “OK,” he says. “You want me to come get you?”
“No. I’ll come and meet you. At the diner.”
“It’s a beautiful day, Omega. I’m not spending it in a diner. I’ll meet you there, but we’re going to go someplace else. I’m leaving now.”
I hum my agreement, that excitement in my stomach stirring wildly.
I swipe a cold cloth over my body and around my brow and my neck before diving into the car and screeching out of the driveway. No sign of Jonathan on the suburb streets and as soon as I’m clear of the city, I relax, sinking into the seat, letting the breeze cool my skin and my imagination ruminate on where he’s going to take me.
Those dirty words of his from last night spin around and around in my head and I realise more than anything the one place I want him to take me is to bed. What is wrong with me? I’ve never had that desire before. And why has it been sparked into life by a man who could never in a million years be suitable for me?
My mobile chirps on the seat next to me and I gaze down at the screen. Jonathan. A slight wave of guilt washes through me, but not strong enough to stop the car and answer his call, not compelling enough to turn around and end this madness.
I’m committed now. All in. There’s a chance that after my last few stunts, he’ll have had enough and will tattle on me to my parents. However, I’m willing to take that risk for an opportunity to be with this alpha again. To feel the things he’s made me feel.
The phone silences and then immediately begins to ring again. I yank the dial on the radio, blasting out music so I can’t hear the call and press my foot down hard on the accelerator, motoring along the empty road. Soon enough, that glint of metal appears on the horizon and my whole body buzzes with excitement. As I draw nearer, I see his bike already parked and he’s standing right by it, gazing out in my direction.
He’s not alone though. There’s another bike parked alongside his and another man stands by his side. My heart sinks. I guess this isn’t going to go the way I planned.
As I swing into the car park, I recognise him as the man with the buzz cut who’d changed my tyre.
I cut the engine and they saunter over to the car.
Ryan leans over the door, sliding his hand around the back of my neck, his calloused fingers brushing over my gland, and kisses me. A hard, deep kiss that has my eyes fluttering shut and my body wilting.
Then he pulls away. “Hello, princess.”
The man with the buzz cut peers down at me with a sneer. “Her?” he asks, throwing his friend a disgruntled look. “We’re ditching work for her?”
My gaze flies up to Ryan’s in confusion. I don’t understand why this other alpha is here. Are Ryan’s words and his kisses all some kind of game? Leading me to think he likes me when really, he’s just playing with me. Why else would he bring his friend? Especially when his friend seems to think I am not worth the effort.
I squirm in my seat, wondering if I should just cut my losses and leave now.
“You need your eyes testing?” Ryan says to his friend, stepping away from me and waving his hand in front of the other alphas’s face.
His friend pushes his hand away. “Why are you here, little one? We’re clearly not your type. Hadn’t you better turn around and drive back to Daddy.”
“Buzz,” Ryan says with a hint of warning in his tone.
The other alpha swings his eyes back to Ryan’s as I sit frozen in my seat, feeling like a fraud, an idiot. Because he’s right isn’t he? Who do I think I am? I don’t belong with alphas like these. I could never be what they want or need.
“Seriously, mate? This girl is not for you.”
“Why not?” I hear my voice squeak before I register I’ve said the words.
“Why not?” He rests his hands on the side of my car, leaning over me. His scent is different from Ryan’s, but similar, as if they’re complimentary. All leather and dust and sweat. “I’m looking at you, Omega, and I can see you come from a completely different world from us. I see it clearly from your shiny little sports car right down to your white cotton briefs.”
I don’t know what it is, but his words poke at something brewing inside me. And for once it’s not shame or subservience. No, it’s something that’s been sitting in the pit of my stomach for as long as I can remember. Something I squashed and suppressed and silenced. But now he has brought it to life.
Anger, that’s what it is. Unadulterated, raging, furious anger.
I’m so tired of everyone making assumptions about me. Of telling me what to do. Of telling me who I am.
Don’t I get a say? Don’t I ever get a say?
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Ryan snarls, his hand slamming down hard on the other’s alpha’s shoulder. “This one doesn’t need you fucking with her like that.”
His friend simply snorts.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I say with a hiss, lifting my chin defiantly. “And what is wrong with cotton briefs anyway? Have you ever tried wearing a lace thong? Do you know how uncomfortable those things are?”
