Page 5 of The Pregnant Wolf Omega Next Door

Emre definitely recognized the voice cursing lowly.

Oh, gods.He blushed all over.This can’t be happening.Except it was, the slick sounds growing faster, the heavy breathing growing deeper. He could just imagine those thick fingers wrapped around that bulge in Zenith’s shorts.

He should cover his ears, except he had no free hands.

Emre ended up listening to every illicit second of it, trying not to feel guilty. Especially because he was committing it all to memory.

When it was finally over, he went back to his breakfast, trembling. He ate more of the croissant sandwich and couldn’t help moaning again. How was the food so good?

“Gods, fuck,” Zenith hissed.

Emre wisely chose not to ask what was wrong, because he didn’t want to admit that he had overheard everything else.

He saved the leftovers to snack on later. Then he fed Abbie and let her scamper around as a wolf pup, waiting until she had exhausted herself and fallen asleep.

Emre ducked into the shower and relived Zenith’s sounds, slipping his fingers into himself. He had to add the fingers from his other hand; four of his own were nowhere near the thickness of Zenith’s cock. It still wasn’t enough—he couldn’t get the right angle, and his fingers were too short.

At least they were enough to make him come. His moans punched out of him, his cum going everywhere.

When he could think clearly again, he realized that maybe he had been too loud.

Oh gods, I hope he didn’t hear any of it.

There wasn’t any sound coming from Zenith’s apartment, so... maybe Zenith was asleep?

Emre sent a prayer up to Mother Moon.

For the restof the day, he pored over the newspapers he’d scrounged from the trash can downstairs. He found a listing for a cashier job on the other side of Cartfalls; it was all that his skill set allowed him to apply for.

Except it was difficult for him to travel anywhere, with his belly as big as it was.

What do I do? I need to pay Zenith back for the food.Maybe he had something else that Zenith wanted? Not money; Emre was broke.

Did Zenith need an omega for sex, maybe?

The typing in Zenith’s apartment stopped. The alpha began to pace. Emre listened as Zenith took five steps down the length of his room, then five steps back, on and on until it madeEmreitch.

When he could no longer bear it, Emre blurted, “Is there something I can help you with?”

The pacing stopped. “Huh,” Zenith murmured. “Actually, yeah. What do you know about shopping carts and babies?”

Emre’s eyebrows crawled up. He glanced at Abbie and Buttwheel. “Why do you need to know about them?”

“I’m writing a book. A...” Zenith coughed, and he sounded almost embarrassed. “A romance novel. There’s a scene where—Anyway, I need to know if someone could leave a baby in a shopping cart, and tell the cart to go to a certain location.”

“You can’t look that up on the internet?”

There came a soft rustling noise, as though Zenith was running his fingers through his hair. “I, ah. I’ve cut off my internet so I don’t spend half my time scrolling through CartBook.”

Emre cracked a smile. “I thought authors just sat and wrote all day.”

“You don’t know how easy it is to get on social media and be distracted by the hundreds of baby pictures your friends post,” Zenith muttered.

“Aww,” Emre said, feeling warm. “You write romance novelsandyou like baby photos?”

There came an awkward silence from the other apartment. Was Zenith embarrassed? Should Emre not have said that?

Zenith cleared his throat. “Anyway, having no internet means I have no access to information and research.”