Page 9

Chapter Nine

“ I s all this slick for me?”

Thick fingers part my folds, spreading me wide until I’m panting with anticipation. A low whine keens from my throat, filled with desperation. My body is on fire. I need him more than my next breath.

“Please. Please, Miller.” I fist the sheets and twisting them so hard that they pull away from the mattress.

At the sound of his name, Miller’s eyes snap to me, his pupils so dilated that there’s barely any blue left. A feral smile plays on his lips, and his thumb finds my clit with ease, circling the slippery nub until my legs quake .

“Tell me this pussy is mine, Posie. Tell me and I’ll make you come over and over until you beg me to stop. And then I’ll make you do it again.”

“It’s yours. It’s always been yours. No one else,” I babble, spreading my thighs wider as he lowers himself between them. The first lap of his tongue against my sensitive core leaves me breathless. The second has me seeing stars. And the third…

“Oh. God. I’m coming…” I cry out, panting and thrashing, completely overloaded with sensation. Slick gushes between my legs, and Miller dives forward with a deep growl that has my instincts ready to give him anything. Everything.

His mouth closes over my whole pussy, sucking and nipping until I’m a writhing mess. Pleasure rushes through every nerve ending, and then he reaches up to pluck my nipples. I can hardly breathe, every rough twist sparking electricity straight to my clit. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

My cries echo around the room, joining his growls as he wrings every drop of pleasure from my body.

“Come again,” he demands, sucking my throbbing clit between his lips. His teeth score the top, pushing up the hood until he can lash the nerves with his soft tongue. A tightness builds low in my belly. It’s amazing. A deep ache that only Miller can slake. My hips roll against his mouth, and he brings his hand back down to press against my opening, gently working a digit inside my soaked channel. The added bit of pressure is all I need. My eyes roll back, my toes curl, and the pressure releases, causing slick to squirt from my pussy as every muscle in my body clenches. The orgasm fires through me, blasting me with more pleasure than I’ve ever experienced. I scream, falling into ecstasy .

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screeching of my alarm makes me bolt upright, panting and completely out of breath. Heat still lingers under my skin, making my pajamas too tight. Too hot. Holy shit. My hands shake as I lift the blanket, which is soaked with slick, and I look around—unsure what to do.

It’s not the first time thoughts of Miller have turned me on, but this is different. A twisting sensation spasms in my uterus, and I scream silently. The pain only releases when more slick drips from my core.

Fisting a pillow, I bring it to my middle and curl around it with a whimper, waiting for the pain to pass. The soft material grounds me, and after what feels like an impossibly long time, the warmth under my skin recedes, leaving me sticky, sweaty, and drained.

“Holy shit, please don’t be my heat,” I mutter to myself, slowly slipping out of bed on shaky legs. At nearly twenty-one, I should have started having heats two or three times a year already. I’ve seen multiple doctors about it, and they’ve all come to the same conclusion—there’s nothing wrong. The running theory is that my anosmia works similarly to a suppressant, keeping out olfactory stimuli that might work to trigger many of my omega impulses and reactions to Alpha pheromones.

And without a prospective Alpha in sight, I’m more than okay with that.

They’ve always said that my body could catch up at any time and that I should stay alert for mini-spikes. The doctors seem to think that once my heats begin, they will regulate—but it’s all just a theory. Omegas are the least-populated designation, and those without the ability to smell—let’s just say I’m a needle in a haystack.

And this needle’s time is running out.

Frustration fills me, and I yank at my bedsheets, needing to be rid of the slick-soaked mess. They pull off easier than expected, and I stumble as they come flying off the bed. The momentum causes me to slam my ass into the wall with an unladylike grunt. Fortunately, there’s plenty of padding back there, so it doesn’t hurt too much.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Shit, my secondary alarm sounds, and I realize just how late I’m running. Stupid body. Stupid slick. There’s no time for delay, so I shove down my concern, toss the sheets in the hamper, and rush into the shower.

I don’t even wait for the water to warm before jumping in. The icy stream helps knock out whatever was left of the spike.

“Hurry. Hurry. Hurry,” I repeat like a mantra, rushing through the world’s quickest shower and throwing on jeans and an old Feral Feckers T-shirt. As soon as I’m dressed and slathered in de-scenting lotion, I pull up the app to call a rideshare. I don’t have an extra second to put on some makeup; instead, I toss my favorite jewelry into my bag.

I can put it on in the car.

Fortunately, my mad dash leaves little room for a pre-driving-lesson freakout, and I bound down the stairs, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the kitchen counter.

“Posie,” my mother gasps. “Where are you rushing off to?”

“Can’t talk—gotta run—driving lesson. ”

I give the apple a quick rinse in the sink, then wipe it with a paper towel.

“You’re really doing it?” she asks, following me with a frown. “Why don’t you let Papa or Dad teach you? Or Owen? I don’t like that you’re meeting up with a stranger.”

“I’ll be less scared with an instructor,” I explain, trying to snake around her, but she blocks my path.

“Just stay here. Don’t leave. The house has plenty of space. If you want more, we can open a few walls to give you the nest of your dreams. There’s no reason for all this foolishness about driving. You know we love having you live with us.” Her eyes tear up, and a wave of guilt hits me square in the face. She opens her arms, and I walk right in, savoring the hug. My mom holds me tightly, like she’ll never let go—and I love her for it. I love all of them so much.

But I also need to grow up. And if this morning’s spike is any indication, I may have waited too long.

Who wants to have a heat where their parents can hear it?

The thought is enough to force me to pull away.

“Love you so much, Mom. But I need this.” Her eyes search my face, and although there’s sadness for just a second, there’s some understanding, too.

“Okay. Please call if you need us. Also, sweetheart, we’re going away next weekend. Owen is going to come stay with you.” She drops that bombshell.

I open my mouth to tell her I don’t need a babysitter, but she beats me to the punch, holding up her hands placatingly.

“I know you can take care of yourself. It will just give us peace of mind to know you have someone waiting for you at home,” she explains. And even though I want to argue, my phone dings, letting me know the rideshare is here.

One point to Mom.

“All right. Gotta run.” I press a kiss on her cheek, then take off out the door.

“Bye!! Thanks for the ride!” I smile and wave at my driver as she pulls away from the curb. I’m one necklace lighter than when I got into the car. I still can’t believe she recognized my jewelry line. Excitement bubbles in my belly, fluttering like fairy wings.

There’s been an uptick in sales lately—but to have it recognized by a random person? It’s beyond my wildest dreams. The website is overwhelmed, and I have orders booked for the next three months. It’s all happening even faster than I could have hoped.

Holy crap on a cracker.

The high quickly crashes down, though, when I turn and look at the sign. Volpe Driving School, it reads, and although I’m in the right place, I wish I was anywhere else. The small, white building sits next to a large parking lot that has a fleet of unassuming black and white cars, all fitted with gigantic signs decrying STUDENT DRIVERS.

The apple I ate in the car threatens to make a reappearance, and I call on all my therapist-taught calming techniques to stave off a panic attack. Reaching for the hair tie on my wrist, I snap it hard three times, counting backward as I go.

“Hey! Posie, you made it!” a happy voice calls as Alex walks along the side of the building. His tall Alpha build stands out, and he runs a hand through his dark hair. His appreciative look makes me wary, eyes raking over my form to linger longer than necessary at the juncture of my thighs. Working hard, I find my social smile and give him a grin.

“I’m nervous but here!”

“No reason to be nervous, Pretty Posie. Promise. I have you set up with one of our most experienced instructors,” he says, sliding a hand to the small of my back and guiding me toward the cars. I jump at the contact, and he smiles, shiny white teeth flashing. There’s nothing inappropriate about the touch, but it feels strange all the same.

The sensation of eyes burning a hole into my back suddenly makes the hair on my body stand on end, and I scan my surroundings, searching for the source. My omega instincts are a bit muted, but I still trust them—someone is watching.

Biting my lip, I let him direct me inside.

“Thanks for doing this,” I tell him honestly.

“Anytime. And no pressure, but if you’re up for it, I would love to take you out to dinner whenever you’re free. Get to know you a bit better.”

Thinking it through, I hesitate before nodding.

With my heat on the horizon, it’s probably time to try dating. And Alex seems nice enough… he’s not Miller—but my fantasy Alpha’s not an option.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”