Her taste is dripping with sweetness, alive and real and undeniable, but her scent is a wall of absolutely nothing.
And the disconnect between the two things is incredibly jarring.
“Alpha,” the woman groans as her hands rest on my chest, palms flat, fingers splayed, sliding up over my collarbones to my neck. She pulls at me, trying to drag my body down onto hers, her legs hooking around the backs of my thighs.
My cock twitches, but my confusion edges out the lust…barely.
Desperate to make any of this make sense, I lean down and push my nose into her neck, scenting her again, but all I get is a weird chemical aroma. It's a flat, sterile nothing that coats her skin like plastic wrap.
Shifting slightly, my nose grazes the soft, swollen gland right below her ear and she reacts like I've touched a live wire. A whine builds in her throat, high and thin and animal, and she rolls her hips upward against nothing, grinding into empty air because I'm not close enough.
She’s definitely an omega, but why the fuck doesn’t she smell like one?
But then the realization slams into me as the omega hugs my neck, holding me closer:Scent-blockers.
It’s the only explanation.
She must becoveredin scent-blockers.
I can only assume it's that industrial grade shit the market uses when they transport the omegas. It's clearly layered incredibly thick, sitting on top of her skin like a lid, sealing in everything underneath.
Shit.
I freeze up as another thought hits me.
Is she one of the poor omegas meant to be auctioned off?
Am I about to fuck the “merchandise”?
My gaze darts to the pile of black fabric tossed to the side. There, pinned to her torn scrub top, is a plastic ID badge. I can see the edge of a tiny photo of a dark-haired woman and a name printed in block letters beside it.
Elowen Pérez
Did she steal that uniform?
But my thoughts are cut off when the omega—maybe Elowen?—grunts in pain. Her hands move,fisting my hair. She yanks my head back. A sharp sting blooms across my scalp as she forces me to look at her.
Her teeth are bared. Her upper lip is curled back, chest heaving, and her eyes are wild. Feral. Blazing with something that isn't fear or lust.
It's rage.
Pure, cornered-animal fury radiating off her, her jaw clenched so tight the tendons in her neck stand out like cables. Her grip twists in my hair, and she snarls at me, a sound that has no business coming out of a body that small.
She looks like she wants to eat me alive.
“Fuck me,” she demands with a growl.
Then, without any warning, her legs lock around my ass, and her ankles cross, holding me to her. With a guttural cry, she lifts her hips, driving herself upward and impaling herself on my cock in one brutal, fluid motion.
The pleasure is blinding, a white-hot flash that sears through my nervous system.
The grip on my cock is so intense it borders on pain, a sharp, exquisite agony as her incredibly tight heat sheathes me to the hilt.
A high, thin keen tears from Elowen’s throat, a sound of pain and overwhelming pleasure all at once. Her body tenses, fighting the intrusion for a split second before she seems to melt, her muscles relaxing and accepting me.
A soft purr slips from the omega’s lips, and that’s all it takes.
The last thread of my control snaps.
