AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After I exchanged numbers with them at my impromptu sleepover, they all text me throughout the week. Some of it was just to ask how my day was, other times it was them wanting to see me. But anytime they did, and I thought about being with them, slick would drip out of me, my core would throb, and I immediately made excuses as to why I couldn't.Goddess,did I want to though. I wanted to beg them to get me through my heat, but even after my date with Mason and my midnight rendezvous with Brooklyn's tongue, I don't feel right asking them to do that. Mostly because I couldn't bear it if they told me no. Some packs wait to go through a heatas a packuntil they've found their mate. It can be considered a very intimate thing. Then there are others who go to heat clinics specifically for them; omegas because they don't want to suffer through without help, alphas and betas because they either chase the pleasure heats bring or they want to help unbonded omegas through them. Either way, the embarrassment I'd feel if Pack Whitlock turned me down kept me from seeing any of them this week. Even if I missed the heck out of them.
I lift my head at the sound of approaching footsteps; I see Jerrick walking toward me. Panicking a little, I think fast. So when he greets me with a chipperGood Morning,I stop him. "Hey, Jerrick."
He pokes his head back out of his office and then comes to stand next to my desk. "Yeah, Summer?"
"I've got a doctor's appointment today at noon. Shouldn't take long, but that means I can't come to lunch." I pout a little like this is such terrible news.
He frowns back. "Ah, well that's okay. There’ll be more lunches."
I smile and nod back, hoping this gets dropped quickly. At my noncommittal response, he walks back into his office.
Great, now I just have to make myself scarce for lunch. I'll probably hide out at the cafe down the street until it's safe to come back, like a total headcase.
* * *
"I'm late, I'm late. I know, I'm so sorry," Ava says, rushing toward me carrying two full bags worth of stuff, looking flustered as can be. Her cheeks are a little pink from—what I imagine is—her run the whole way here. One of her bags is slung across her shoulder and must weigh a ton because she keeps adjusting it as I usher her in the building. I had to come let her in since the main door is locked to everyone but residents.
I take one of her bags from her, for which she shoots me a grateful smile, and we take the elevator up to my apartment. There isn't a lot of room to get ready here, as is evidenced by me bumping into Ava several times as we set her bags down on my bed. I live closer to the bars she wants to hit tonight, though; or so she says. The truth is she's never invited me to her apartment, nor have I ever seen it. I don't take it personally though. She'll invite me over in her own time.
For now, we're stuck getting ready in my four-hundred square foot space. Ava pulls out her dress that she bought last time we were together. The pink sequins number. Then she plucks various makeup, brushes, hairspray, and a curling iron out of the heavy-looking bag. She marches over to my closet and opens the door, where I have a full length mirror attached to the inside of it. I watch on in amusement as she plugs in the curling iron to the wall next to the closet, saunters to the kitchen, grabs one of my two stools, and settles it down right in front of the mirror.
"Okay, take a seat. I'll start your hair, and you can do your makeup at the same time," she instructs, chest heaving a little like she's finally catching her breath.
"You aren'tthatlate you know. We're going to be fine," I tease her. She's only a half an hour later than when we agreed to meet. I barely even noticed. I got home from work a little later than usual. After Jerrick's meeting with Brooklyn and Dillan, he had several meetings back to back that went long. I took notes for them, so I got out of there around five-thirty. That still gave me plenty of time to come back, shower, and have some dinner because Ava wasn't meant to meet me until seven. Thank the Goddess she was running behind, too, because I had another flare up in the shower. Thankfully, all my toys are waterproof, so I jumped out soaking wet to grab my trusty vibrator and gave myself about a dozen orgasms—thinking about Pack Whitlock the whole time, of course—before I was sated enough to get out of the shower. That put me a little behind schedule, but I had time to blowdry my almost waist length hair before Ava called to say she was around the corner.
"Not really. We have to get to this club early. It's new, and I've heard if you aren't there when it opens, you're waiting in line forhoursto get in."
I draw the line at standing in line for fifteen minutes—max—for a club. "What time does it open?"
"Nine," she says, tapping the curling iron to make sure it's hot enough and then starts sectioning my hair. It might seem like we have plenty of time, but being a girl is definitely working against us right now. So I grab the concealer and get to work. The conversation is surface level as we get ready, and I can tell that whatever has been eating at her recently, it's still very much on her mind. I can also tell that she isn't ready to talk about it based on the way she quickly avoids eye contact when she catches me staring at her questioningly.
It's about ten past nine when I buckle the strap on my heel and stand up. Ava is standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her hair one last time. She looks hot, I can admit it. The dress is flashy and shows her long, lean legs. At five-foot-eight, her legs look like they go on for miles. Her silvery blonde hair is just a little shorter than mine, which she is wearing straight tonight with a little bit of glitter hairspray in it to make it shine when the light hits it. That and the bronzer she dusted across her bosom gives her an ethereal look.
She sets up the camera to take a few pictures of us, and I can admit I look good, too. Despite not feeling a hundred percent confident in the mini black bodycon dress that hugs my body like a second skin, I'm not going to wear the leather jacket I bought to help cover up. I'm going to be brave tonight. Though, I have had a little help...
"Let's do one more round before we go," I declare. The liquor we've already consumed has my body feeling warm and tingly, but my mind is still clear. One more should settle the rest of the nerves.
We choke down the tequila and head out the door. I lock my apartment and send up one final prayer before following Ava to the elevator:
Please,pleaselet my heat not start tonight.
Twenty-Three
Summer
Music blaresthrough the extensive surround sound. The bass sends vibrations through the space, and strobe lights flare through the dark warehouse-like club in an array of technicolor glory. There's a small bubble machine somewhere that is sending bubbles and foam around the space. It's an electrifying atmosphere, making me understand why there was already a line about forty people deep when we got here not too long after it opened.
The DJ switches songs to one that—by the cheers and screaming around me—is very clearly a crowd favorite. Everyone starts singing along to the lyrics and jumping up and down, pumping their fists, heads thrown back in joyful abandon. Ava and I look at each other. She grins and shrugs as I do the same, and we join in the fun. I grab her hands in mine, and we scream the lyrics at each other and jump around. I throw my head back and forth, unable to remember a time I felt so carefree, young, and happy. Halfway through the song, breathing is becoming too hard, so with a laugh, I stop jumping around and try to catch a breath. My cheeks are burning, and my throat is hoarse from all the fun.
I shake free from Ava's grasp. She meets my eyes as I mime getting a drink with my hand because it's too loud in this club for her to be able to hear me. Then I point to her in question to see if she wants one as well. She nods, and I take off toward the bar to get us each another cocktail. I'm not sure how long we've been out, but it has to have been several hours at least because this place is packed. I try shoving my way through the mass of writhing bodies, but it's not like I'm an imposing force. After shouldering my way through everyone, I finally make it to the bar, flag down a bartender, and order our drinks.
It's been easier than I thought, being out tonight. There are definitely no shortage of attractive people in here, but with so many of them, their scents are intermingled, overwhelming, and easy to ignore. I can't tell who each one is coming from and, frankly, none of them smell enticing anyways. Not when the smell of summer rain, sandalwood, citrus, or lavender have been plaguing me all week.
The bartender comes over with my drinks, and I turn back toward the crowd, balking at the idea of pushing my way through it without spilling them. Just as I'm about to sayscrew it,a warm body presses up against my back, enveloping me in a cloud of bourbon and citrusy heaven. An involuntary moan slips out of me, which Maverick takes as an invitation to step closer and wrap his arm around me, pressing me back into him.
His breath tickles my neck when he leans down to whisper in my ear. "You look like every man's wet dream, beautiful. The things I want to do to you right now would make a whore blush."
His voice is low and throaty, and I shiver at the promise in it. I lean back into him as a wave of lust sweeps over me, and his tongue darts out to lick at my neck before he gently bites down on my ear. Slick pours out of me, and my knees buckle, causing me to spill a little of our drinks.
