Page 19 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

He opened his mouth to protest, but when I placed my hand against his sternum, pushing him back down into the pillows, something shifted. Cal watched me with unprecedented intensity, tongue running along his bottom lip, as I straddled him once more.

It wasn’t exactly a surrender, because my boyfriend could never keep his hands to himself, and he wasted no time in slipping his thick fingers between my legs.

“Have you been thinking about this, how I touch you? How I make you feel?”

“Yes,” I nearly moaned, shuddering with feverish delight, fisting his sweater, hips shifting, searching for more stimulation.

“How many times did you fantasize about me fucking you senseless on the sidelines today?” he asked, swirling the tip of a finger inside my entrance. “Once, twice—five times? Tell me.”

I leaned forward to nip at his ear with a sarcastic laugh. “I don’t daydream at work.”

Reaching behind him, I grabbed a bottle of lube from the storage basket by the cat tree.

“Well,” said Cal, taking the lube from me, applying a liberal amount to his hand, “you’ve been thinking about something… Or someone .”

Slick fingers probed me with insistent pressure, and a seductive whisper ensnared me. “Because by your standards, Morgan—you’re soaked.”

“More, Cal,” I pleaded, hips rising to meet his hand.

“Can’t you feel it? How much hotter and needier you are tonight.” Plunging deeper, Cal stirred up waves of pleasure. “So, tell me… Was it Wyatt’s kiss, or was it me?”

He sucked on the side of my neck while repeatedly striking a spot that made me writhe.

“It was me. I know it was. Because you love how I touch you. How my knot makes you gush.”

“Y-yes. Now fuck me.”

“Oh, I will, multiple times, after you—”

“No.”

Pushing my hair out of my face, I surveyed the strapping spoils beneath my thighs.

How each new breath made his chest strain against the fabric of his sweater, and the powerful tendons in his neck flexed as he licked the precious evidence of my arousal off his fingertips. While his thick cock throbbed against my abdomen, slicking my skin with precum.

“I’m leading tonight.” Easing forward, I braced one hand against his shoulder while the other stroked the length of his searing heat. “Let me make you feel good.”

A ragged breath passed, his eyes flashed gold, and he nodded.

The first inch was a challenge, even with the lube and Cal holding my hips to help steady my descent.

Sure, the extra twenty minutes he would have happily lavished upon my pussy before attempting penetration would have made this easier. But I was unwilling to exist another moment without being joined together.

Leaning forward, I licked the exposed skin above his collar, taking hit after hit of amaretto-flavored sweat, stoking my arousal to new heights, allowing him to slip further inside.

Rising on my knees, I licked the other side of his neck and then dropped down again, repeating the pattern until I could take him to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, head falling back, eyes fluttering. “So good, so damn good.”

Gathering more and more of Cal’s sweater into my greedy fists as I rode him, I slowly exposed his quivering stomach, marveling as the solid planes of his dense musculature contracted and released, echoing the pace of my gyrating hips.

How beautifully he yielded to my desires, allowing me to seek pleasure on my own terms, back arched against the pillows, sweat glistening on his brow, the damp wool of his sweater clinging to the straining forms of his biceps and pecs, watching me with a burning gaze.

I was so enamored with the sight of him that the first press of his knot caught me by surprise, disrupting my rhythm.

“Ahn!” Grappling at the mangled wool of his sweater, I tried to roll my hips forward, but my knees slipped against the silken fabric of the nest.

Then the room spun, and I was the one pinned against the pillows.

Cal arched down to kiss me, the contact fleeting, resulting in a pair of open-mouthed moans as his knot brushed against my entrance.

Gripping the edge of the nest, the intensity of his thrusts increased, knot grazing my clit with every kick of his hips.

I cried out again and again, a litany of wordless pleasure, begging him to work his magic, to make me come—so that I might be complete.

His fingers answered my call, slipping between us to toy with my clit. The tremors started in the flexed arches of my feet, working higher, growing stronger, entirely at his mercy as I came apart.

Cal’s pace was almost reckless as he plunged deeper and deeper, lifting my hips to help ease the passage of his knot.

The pressure of it breaching my entrance sent fresh waves of pleasure through me, a sensation that only grew stronger as it rapidly swelled to its full intimidating size, locking us together.

With a few expertly timed curls and twists of his fingers, Cal made me shatter again. Only then did he let go, roaring in ecstasy as he came in thick, hot spurts.

“Mine,” he whispered, hunching down to claim as much of my mouth as possible, pouring the rumble of his purr down my throat instead of his pheromone-laced sweat—and rewired a portion of my broken brain.

Our intimacy was incredibly satisfying because of Cal . His patience, his curiosity, his care. Not a dizzying cloud of alpha pheromones.

Even if I’d never experienced the golden glow of his amaretto scent, Cal would still have done everything in his power to make me feel this good, because I wasn’t just some woman or a needy omega.

I was his.

Sated by the thickness of his knot still pulsing within me, by the weight of his body pressing me deeper into my pillowy refuge, I stroked his ruined sweater and indulged in a rare, full smile.

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

“Hm?” Face burrowed in my hair, Cal’s question came out as a grunt.

“Nothing.” I nuzzled his neck, burying my nose in the sweat-soaked wool—completing my second potent scent-marking of the day. “Just that I love you, too.”

Cal pulled back, angling my face upward, so he could stare in disbelief at my contented expression.

“Love me— too ?”

“Aren’t you crazy about me?” I trailed a hand along the broad planes of his back. “Don’t you love me to the point of stupidity?”

So intimately conjoined, Cal’s laugh was cataclysmic, stoking the lingering embers of our arousal.

“Yes—yes, I do,” he said, smiling so wide it tweaked his jagged nose completely out of shape, hazel eyes radiating pure joy. “I love you, Morgan. Love you so much.”

And then he proved it to me—twice.

***

The following morning, I walked out of the gym to find Cal sitting at the dining room table, wearing a Narwhals tee and sweatpants he’d stowed away in my closet at some point, drinking coffee and refilling my pill organizer.

I watched him work and let the moment wash over me—how his care filled me with guilt-tinged butterflies, how much I enjoyed sharing quiet mornings with him, how comfortable he seemed in my space.

Five weeks.

It was a blink in a typical beta relationship, but it was more than enough time for some alphas and omegas to be certain—to know—they’d found their mate.

Everything Cal had done with me and for me since we got together strengthened my belief that we were excellent partners and would be happy together in the long run, so long as I got used to him manhandling my baggage occasionally.

His family situation didn’t intimidate me. At the end of the day, it was just money. I could support us both if push came to shove. Or his half-sister launched a coup.

But there were still a few lingering wrinkles we needed to iron out…

After filling the electric kettle and turning it on, I joined Cal at the table, draping myself across his lap, earning a delicious purr for my efforts.

“Morning, love.” Cal gave me a thorough kiss before shifting my weight more firmly to one thigh. “You smell like sin.”

“That’s because I haven’t showered out of respect for your ego.”

“Mm, while I appreciate the thought, it’s not that—not entirely.” Resting his cheek against my head, Cal said carefully, “The metallic edge is fading faster than I anticipated.”

What little relief I felt at the news was outweighed by dread.

“Is my heat going to be a nightmare or a horror show?”

Cal chuckled, rubbing circles along my lower back. A preemptive attempt at soothing me.

Ah, horror show. Just as I suspected.

“It’s going to be rough, Morgan. Closer to a full seven days than four. But if you think of it like a system reset, it’ll be worth the hassle.”

“Yes, hassles. My favorite.”

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I was years overdue for a heat, and with my hormones so out of whack, it had to be done.

But we couldn’t do it alone.

“How many alphas do you think I’ll need?”

“At least three,” he said, channeling his usual professional tact. “But if you were my patient—”

“Which I pretty much am, Dr. Carling.”

“Yes, but my quota for off-the-record, ethically questionable patients is zero. So don’t push it, toots.”

“Ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “No toots. Love, meh. Sweetheart, yes.”

Cal regarded me over the rim of his coffee cup while he took a sip. “Babe?”

I smacked his shoulder. “Oh, that’s fun. Now I get why Alijah does it all the time.”

Even so, I rubbed the abused spot by way of apology. “But seriously, you better behave. My family already calls you pheromone stud. It can get worse.”

“But I like pheromone stud.”

“You would,” I said with a groan. “Enough nonsense—back to the point at hand. If I were your patient, you’d…?”

“Suggest a minimum of four partners. Five or six would be ideal.”

After taking a few seconds to try and reconcile handling that much dick, I asked, “So, hypothetically, if I were to ask Chantal to put in an order for the everything pizza…would you be okay with it?”

“Yes—and not hypothetically. As your boyfriend, I’d feel a lot better if we asked Wyatt and the others—Pack Redmond—to be with you during your heat.” He set his coffee down with a firm click. “You know they won’t turn you down.”

“Even Owen?” I asked, my touch turning hesitant.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. He appreciates you. Don’t know if that extends to attraction.”

“Would he be amenable to facilitating?”

Cal tapped the side of his mug while he thought it over. “Perhaps. Worth asking, for sure. You might also want to ask if he’ll serve as a backup, too, just in case.”

“You know,” I said, resting my cheek against his shoulder, “it’s a lot more fun being fucked senseless. Too much work the other way around, wearing alphas out.”

“Don’t lie. Not to me, not after last night.” Cal kissed my forehead. “You love being in control—maybe even more than you love me.”