Page 30 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Nineteen

Wyatt

H eats were supposed to be a frantic mess of passion driven by instinct. Raw, mindless fucking. Not that I’d ever participated in one before, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew how this was supposed to go down.

But with Owen involved, the proceedings were as erotic as a pre-flight safety drill.

“…numerous toys and positioning pillows are available, as well as a variety of lubricating agents…”

Sitting in Morgan’s reading chair with my hands shoved deep in the pockets of my gym shorts, I desperately tried to pretend that I couldn’t smell a faint hint of her blossoming scent as Tenny slipped through the cat flap. I looked at the mated pair, hoping they were equally miserable.

If only.

Alijah sat at attention in his wrinkle-free khaki pants and preppy polo shirt, nodding along as Owen reviewed Morgan’s list of requirements— again —as if we hadn’t already done this whole song and dance last night.

Joaquin was on the verge of nodding off, arms splayed across the back of the couch, with his head tipped back and eyes closed.

“…adhere to the stoplight system for consent. If you are unable to obtain verbal confirmation, notify me immediately…”

My phone buzzed on the end table. A simple thumbs-up emoji from Cal sent me rocketing to my feet.

I didn’t spare a glance at my brother or the others. Just took my phone and charged into her suite.

The door to her nest stood open a few inches. Cal’s scent was strong, heading toward her office, but I didn’t care about him.

Every thought was fixated on Morgan. Helping her, easing her, comforting her, kissing her, touching her, claiming her…

Reaching for the molded panel, fingers trembling from a surge of adrenaline, my hindbrain cooled, reminding me that this was Morgan . I couldn’t afford to fuck things up again.

Nerves crept in on the backs of my second guesses.

Should we be doing this—going all the way—without having fixed our relationship?

At least we’d kissed. That had to count for something.

Or was I going first because she wanted to get me out of the way?

Oh god, what if she expected me to be a one-pump chump?

Fuck, what if I was one when it came to her?

The door opened a few inches, almost hitting my nose.

A flushed Morgan leaned against the doorframe. She was wearing a short, slinky green robe tied so loosely it might as well have been hanging open. Hooking a finger in the collar of my sweatshirt, she tugged me across the threshold.

“Think of this like practice.” She shut the door behind us. “Turn your brain off and just sweat.”

I didn’t buy it, not with the tension in her neck and the lack of eye contact.

“How’s that working for you?”

“Like crap.” Morgan ran a hand through her sweat-tinged hair. “But it’s the best I’ve got.”

Okay, so we were both nervous. That was…

A fact. I could use facts.

Owen had just been rattling some off, like the location of the lube and vibrator stash. Maybe we should start there. A little toy action. Yeah. Less of a chance to make a fool of myself that way.

Morgan took my hand, scattering my nonsensical thoughts across the plush carpeting as she guided me to the vast mattress in an arched recess. The heart of her nest.

As I leaned in, aiming for a kiss, she sidestepped my advance.

“Sit down.”

And I did.

Huh, maybe this wasn’t so hard.

If Morgan asked, I would obey. If Morgan wanted, I would provide. Don’t question why she doesn’t want to kiss you. Simple as that.

Morgan moved between my legs. Tentatively settling my hands on her hips, I ran my thumbs along the satin fabric while drinking in the view with a heated gaze. The deep plunge of the neckline, the copious amount of skin on display, the fullness of her figure, the peaks of her nipples…

And her scent.

Circling my arms around her, I pulled Morgan close, burying my face in her torso, and inhaled.

Long. Deep. Hungry.

Then again. And again.

Filling my lungs with her pheromones while Morgan ran her hands through my hair.

Orchid with a touch of spice and an undercurrent of caramelized vanilla. So delectable, so bewitching, and temporarily free of the rotten undertone. I fell under her spell all over again as her scent grew stronger, almost humid, like burying your face in an armful of exotic hothouse flowers.

Because Morgan was burning up.

Beads of sweat trailed down her neck. The fabric of her robe was no longer cool to the touch. It clung to the crux of her thighs and the undersides of her breasts.

She wasn’t entirely lost to her heat, but she was getting there.

As she leaned down, her robe slipped open even more, but the tantalizing view was blocked when she pulled my sweatshirt up over my head and tossed it aside.

Morgan let out a throaty half-moan as she drank me in. Her hands trailed up my biceps before diving down across my pecs, then lower, tracing the Olympic rings tattooed on the right side of my ribs. And then lower still, down across my abs, pausing on my waistband.

Not sure if she was hesitating for my sake or because her rational mind was trying to catch up with her desires, I leaned back on one elbow. Lifting my butt, I started to ease off my shorts.

When Morgan stroked the V-lines cut into my hips, I paused, ready to follow her lead. Her heated touches continued even as she pulled off my shorts and boxers.

“Fuck.” Staring at my hardening cock—about average in length but as thick as the rest of me—Morgan knelt between my thighs. “I was not expecting all of that . Can…can I?”

I nodded, deciding to tease her a bit. Seemed like a decent way to keep from exploding.

“Never heard any tall tales about my dick?”

“Oh, I heard them all right. Figured it was exaggerated locker room talk.”

Her tentative exploration turned into a full stroke, prompting a needy hiss from me—and a sexy little smile from her.

“Guess the other guys were jealous.” Her tongue swept across the tip of my cock, spurring me closer to full hardness. “The rumors didn’t come close to doing you justice.”

I’d never been very imaginative, but that hadn’t stopped me from fantasizing about being with Morgan over the years. But even my filthiest visions had nothing on the overwhelming heat of her mouth.

Bonfires burned in my nerve endings.

She took me deeper, humming with satisfaction. My hands went scrambling. I held onto the covers for dear life as she took me down to the hilt.

Her tongue dragged along the underside of my shaft as she pulled back, savoring every inch.

Somehow, despite the feverish warmth radiating off her body, my saliva-slicked skin felt cold, leaving me shivering with need.

Morgan wrapped her fingers around the base of my cock, turning her wrist in time with the canting of her head as she took me into her mouth once more.

My grunts solidified into proper moans as she sucked and bobbed, hands always moving and twisting, determined to wring me dry. Like she was on a mission to make me come.

As if she had something to prove.

And I let her. Even though I knew there was deliberate thought behind her actions, I didn’t question it. Couldn’t.

Not with my cock breaching the back of her throat.

Or the vise of her fist squeezing the first stirrings of my knot.

All I could manage was to sweep a hand through her bobbed hair, holding it to one side, watching as the girl of my dreams sucked my length with hollowed cheeks.

A characteristic display of determination, but her inhibitions were slipping, along with the robe. The full globes of her breasts swayed just out of reach.

She pulled back, gasping for air. The robe fell to the floor.

And I stared.

At the Olympic rings tattooed on her right collarbone. Her toned arms. The taut plane of her stomach. Her rounded hips. And the powerful quads that had propelled her to glory.

Two decades of dedicated training had carved unyielding strength into her omega softness.

I had no words. Not for her beauty or the depths of my need. If I did anything more than breathe, my control would snap. It was already hard enough to keep my knot at bay. My alpha was roaring for release. And I was only human.

Morgan had me. All of me. In her mouth. In the palm of her hand. Thrilling, tasting, tormenting—never too fast, but often too slow. Dragging out this torturous bliss until I surrendered, scorching the back of her throat with thick spurts of cum.

I got off on the thought of marking her there. My scent would flavor every kiss for hours. Maybe even days if I played my cards right.

Nuzzling my length between licks and kisses, she let out a breathy moan. “Oh, there you are.”

“What—ah!” I cried out as Morgan’s fervent sucks and pulls abruptly resumed, hips bucking into her mouth, almost choking her, even though I was spent.

“Morgan, baby, that’s enough.” Fisting my hand in her hair, I gave her head a gentle tug. “Your turn.”

The pressure of her mouth eased, only to transfer to my thighs, along with her possessive touch. Slowly—oh, so slowly—she worked her way upward, tongue swirling over my belly button.

“More,” she demanded breathlessly. “Want more...”

After trailing her tongue along the centerline of my abs, she finally looked up. Her pupils were blown wide, surrounded by a gleaming ring of crystallized amber.

Morgan’s omega had come out to play.

She launched up, pushing me onto the mattress, demanding ravenous kisses as she straddled my body.

Not questioning why kisses were suddenly back on the menu, I wrapped my arms around her and rolled us both over. Gripping her thighs, I tried to get her legs up around my waist, only for her to flip me over again. We tussled until we collided with the pillows framing the back of the bed.

Mutual, wild laughter infused our kisses as they grew longer and deeper. Her hands roamed across my shoulders and sides. Mine sank deep in her hair and perfectly plump ass.