Page 3 of Forbidden Taste (An Omega’s Preference #3)
My hands move into his hair, tangling in those orange-red curls. He shifts, his cock thickening against my ass as I grind against his stomach. Heat pools in my lower belly, slick lining my underwear, my body buzzing with want. I’ve never felt this—never with Benjamin, never with anyone.
Leo lets out a wholly guttural sound, almost like a call to my instincts, a demand to submit. There’s that dominance. He just needed the right kind of push. His confidence grows as one hand moves beneath my shirt, gripping the bare skin at my waist, tearing a gasp from my lips.
And then someone clears their throat, Leo nearly dropping me, embarrassment flooding his features.
The moment is gone, that spiced apple scent soured with shame as he steps back, confused and a little terrified.
His hands hover in the air, like he doesn’t know where to put them but there’s no time to enjoy that flushed look on his face or that fact that my ass is clenching around nothing, yearning for whatever Leo has in his pants.
Jumping off the bench gives me a perfect view as I straighten my clothing.
The bulge between his thighs is obscene, straining against his jeans, my mouth watering.
I have no idea how he’s carrying that around but it takes everything in me not to drop to my knees and rip his pants open to let that beautiful cock rest on my—
Someone clears their throat again and I turn to look at the intruder, groaning when Professor Jameson takes a step further inside.
She’s the one music theory professor here who thinks she owns a piece of my success and, therefore, also owns my time.
Her Alpha presence fills the room, her form-fitting suit hugging her curves and screaming power.
I sigh, bowing my head slightly, instinct kicking in.
Leo slowly turns around to face her as well, his head bowed, his hands situated in front of his cock.
It just barely works, which makes me all the more excited to go further next time.
Professor Jameson lets out a little growl of disappointment as her gaze locks on Leo. “You are a distraction, Mr. Woods.”
“He’s not a distraction,” I snap, my tone sharper than I mean it to be. The only reason I get away with my attitude as an Omega is because of the money my parents pour into this academy. I don’t use it often but here it seems fitting. If anyone was in the wrong, it was me.
Professor Jameson lets out an evil laugh.
“You were not practicing and I have never seen anyone else make you stand on the goddamn piano bench. It’s disgraceful.
” She waves a hand. “Excuse us, Mr. Woods.” Leo’s sea-green eyes dart between us before he darts out of the room and grabs his bag from the floor, as graceful as a six-foot-one Omega can be.
His spiced apple scent lingers, taunting me as he disappears.
Disappointment is swapped for frustration as I glare back at my professor.
“My fingers will bleed if I do any more practicing,” I say, crossing my arms. “And sending Ben in here to keep me company isn’t helping.
” Having someone watch me from the shadows is not nearly as intriguing as everyone thinks it is.
Well, if it were Leo, maybe. But I’d much rather him in the lounge, listening along, watching me the way he always does.
“Well, clearly it’s not enough, because Benjamin mentioned you still aren’t able to finish the final piece.
And now I find you lip-locked with that student—another Omega, no less.
” Her eyes narrow. “Riley, you’ll be performing at the Karlen Center at the end of the semester.
We can’t afford any setbacks. Now, what piece are we working on? ”
I’m pissed off. All the professors feel like they’re worming their way into my life, just like my mother does—controlling, demanding, suffocating.
I’ve been trying to get this damn piece right for months.
I know the theory, the fundamentals, every note and rhythm.
But when I hit that part, I can’t. Something’s blocking me, a wall I can’t break through.
“We aren’t working on anything, Professor Jameson.
I’ve been practicing for two hours. It’s also Friday, so it’s time for me to go to my nest and watch my show. Have a good weekend.”
“Riley…” Her tone warns me, Alpha authority dripping from it.
I know I’m about to overstep but I just can’t focus on the music right now.
“It’s Mr. Hart,” I throw at her. “Just because my parents paid for this building doesn’t mean we’re friends.
” My chest tightens as I hold her stare, tears prickling in my eyes again, the anger and exhaustion crashing together.
I want out. Want my nest. Want Leo’s scent back, not her sterile perfume cutting through the room.
When she doesn’t say anything, I slip past her and head for the Fairy Cove Apartments at the edge of the academy grounds.
Every Friday is the same. My favorite strawberry ice cream paired with whatever soap opera show I can find; the more sappiness, the better. But this time, it feels like someone will be missing.