Page 34 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Twenty-One

Morgan

“ O ne more, give me one more.” Pressed against the wall of the shower, Cal pistoned into me, hands sunk deep in my ass, trying to wring out yet another climax. There was no way he’d ever let me fall.

The fact that I was aware of the mechanics of our current position bothered me.

It was late Sunday night. I should be a hormonal express train, mindlessly exchanging riders left and right.

Hadn’t I consumed a gallon of pheromone-laced bodily fluids by now?

Yet all I could think about—despite how fervently my boyfriend was fucking me and the increasing pressure of his knot against my pussy walls—was curling up in my nest and playing a round of Sudoku on my phone.

If Cal wanted to add a vibrator to the mix, I could multitask.

“Shit,” I groaned against his neck. “This isn’t working.”

His hips faltered. “The position, or…?”

Kissing the hollow at the base of his throat, I tried to dampen the blow. “Do you think it’s time for one of the drugs you brought?”

Cal turned off the water and began making shallow movements as if trying to work his knot free. I might be a little sexed-out, but that didn’t mean he could deprive me of his satiating fullness.

Wrapping my legs tighter around his waist, I said, “Don’t you dare.”

He chuckled, bracing my ass with one large hand as he opened the shower door. “What a hardship.”

After a lazy attempt at drying us off, abandoning the towel on the vanity, he carried me through the connecting door back to my nest.

Holding me tight against his chest, Cal crawled across the mattress on his knees and carefully laid us down, turning his bulk into the cuddliest of blankets.

Toying with his wet hair, I kissed what I could reach—neck, trapezius, sternum—smug in the knowledge that if I got tired of being so chivalrously manhandled and wanted to make out with someone in the missionary position, I had Wyatt or Alijah on deck.

And if I wanted to be manipulated, I could risk it with Joaquin. He was even sneakier than I expected.

If this was him on his best behavior… Alijah never stood a chance.

“We have a slight conundrum, Dr. Van Daal.”

I put the finishing touch on the hickey blossoming on Cal’s collarbone. “And what might that be, Dr. Carling?”

“It’s a matter of geography. Syringe in the bathroom. Drugs in the kitchen. Medical professional otherwise engaged.”

“Hm. Yes, that does present something of a problem.” Tapping my fingers against his pecs, I weighed our options. “Maybe Owen could gather everything?”

He groaned, resting more of his weight on me, pinning me to the mattress, face buried in my wet hair. “Fine. But let me cover my ass first.”

“Why? Not that I’m into exhibitionism—and your rear end is magnificent—but haven’t you two… I mean, don’t most prospective packs have some shared sexual experience?”

“Most normal packs, yes.” Cal snagged the covers and threw them over our lower halves, but there wasn’t enough fabric to entirely cover his legs.

“There was never a reason for us to go there. We’ve all skipped a lot of ruts, including Joaquin.

I did it partly for football but mostly to avoid family drama.

Owen felt it was a waste of time. And Joaquin was always on the prowl for a mate.

Always. I know he’s got the vibes of a playboy, but he was a serial monogamist even before Alijah came along, with the occasional throuple situation. ”

I absorbed his revelations with interest, but couldn’t quite believe them. The trio must have had a legion of admirers during college—especially Cal.

“You weren’t friends with any omegas, some brilliant, beautiful designation sciences major, or a cheerleader—or three—who needed help with their heat?”

“Not saying we weren’t asked. Just as I assume you’ve received propositions over the years. But agreeing… That’s a different matter entirely.”

“Cal,” I said, unable to keep disbelief from creeping into my tone. Craning my head back, I tried to make eye contact. “This can’t be your first heat.”

“Can I take that as a compliment?” he teased with a shallow flex of his hips, but I was too stunned to react.

All I could do was stare up at his ruggedly handsome features, wondering how someone could be so perfect on his first try—taking on more than his fair share of the planning load, prioritizing my comfort, and constantly reassuring me—making it all seem so effortless.

Cal kissed the top of my head. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re it for me. I’d do anything to make this good for you.”

Forcing back an influx of emotions, I rested my forehead against his shoulder and exhaled.

“I’d be a snarling, achy mess with anyone else.

You know that, right? Would’ve been holed up in the bathroom by now, calling Chantal to get me out of here.

Determined to ride it out solo.” Shifting to nuzzle his neck, I said, “You—all of you—have been… I didn’t know it could be like this.

Ten out of ten experience. Would recommend. ”

We shared a laugh, and he kissed my temple. But I wasn’t done.

“As grateful as I am that I’ll remember this weekend, it’s time.”

Cal shifted, pushing up onto one elbow, arching his back to kiss me on the lips.

The movement threatened to dislodge his knot, prompting my inner walls to clamp down, desperate to keep him locked inside.

My reaction made him hiss with pleasure, but it didn’t stop him from reaching for his phone near the headboard.

His thickness remained in place, keeping me satisfied for the time being.

Digging his elbows into the mattress on either side of my head, Cal typed a quick missive.

A few minutes later, Owen entered my nest, carrying a tray of medical supplies, wearing his customary suit and tie. I raised a brow at his attire.

“What? Your office is exceptionally well-equipped for telecommuting,” he said, perching on the side of the bed.

He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, ripped open an alcohol wipe, and cleaned a portion of my upper arm.

“One of us has to ensure Tabitha keeps her ass-kicking boots on the university president’s neck,” Cal added, reaching for the thermometer in the supply basket. He gave Owen a few pointers while taking my temperature. “Yes, there. Have the cotton ball and bandage ready.”

“Have you done this before?” I couldn’t help but ask Owen. The man had a master’s and a PhD in bioengineering, which, while impressive, didn’t require any medical skills.

“Of course.” He administered the aphrodisiac with a steady hand. “Knee surgery aftercare.”

I glanced at Cal, who was more interested in checking my hormone levels on his phone than in our conversation.

It was a shame they hadn’t become packmates years ago.

“Your temp dropped. Not enough to break your heat, but it’s not helping, either.” Cal scrolled through the latest readings. “But your hormone levels are good. Elevated but stable.”

His fingers drummed against the side of the phone case before looking at Owen. “Know any studies on the impact of antidepressants or other prescription drugs on heat cycles? She should have tipped over by now.”

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled while Owen applied the bandage.

“Not sure. I’ll have my assistant run a query.” Owen stood up, unaware that I was at the perfect angle to admire the exquisite tailoring of his suit pants—along with his toned thighs and ass.

Smolderingly hot nerd alert, my inner Jacobi announced, like a horny fairy godfather, then started prattling on about roleplay possibilities.

Imagine Wyatt, the dashing prince in his cape and crown, and Owen, the sinister grand duke dressed in a dashing black ensemble, vying for the love of the medical kingdom’s princess, doing unspeakable things to her in the throne room…

A giggle slipped out.

Horrified, I grabbed Cal’s waist. “How much did you give me?”

“Enough.” His knot eased, allowing him to shift down and look me in the eye while his thumb stroked my cheek. “You’re feeling it already?”

The asshole was studying my pupil dilation. This was not the lowest dose of aphrodisiac.

Incensed, I demanded, “What happened to Baby Bear?”

Owen snorted, dropping the latex gloves into the trash by the mini fridge. “That wasn’t the nickname I’d expect your girlfriend to choose, but—”

“Not me, you asshole,” Cal said with a scowl. “The dosage.”

“If you say so.” Owen retrieved the tray of medical items, sneaking a look at my tits before heading for the door. “Call me if you need something else , Morgan.”

I gawped at his retreating back—and butt—then turned my head back toward Cal. The big, beefy idiot dared to smile at me, loving every second of watching my control crumble in real time.

“Did he just…?”

“You made the rookie mistake of thinking the tsunami of research papers was an apology. That was Owen’s version of flirting.” He rubbed the tips of our noses together, laughing all the while. “He might be your backup, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “He didn’t Papa Bear me, did he?”

“No. I decided to go with the middle option: Mama Bear. Figured it would tip you fully into heat without being overkill. Which saves Baby Bear if you start running on fumes before your heat breaks.”

A fresh cramp wracked my core, sending my hands scrambling for flesh. His biceps, his hips, his ass, anything male and naked would do.

“Cal—Cal, I don’t like this. Don’t feel like myself. Like I’m not all there.”

“That’s the point, sweetheart.” His kiss was too considerate, too reassuring.

I wanted passion. Ravishment.

Where was that domesticated devil when I needed him?

“You’re not supposed to be in control during a heat,” Cal reminded me, ever so unhelpfully. “Your omega is.”

“And she’s a horny bitch.” Rolling away from him, I tried to get up, but his arm kept me planted on the mattress. “Supposed to be greedy, right? Then let me go. You’ve had your turn. I’ve got other men to fuck with. Men without as many principles.”