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My muscles tense as the orgasm hits me, and I pump out stream after stream of warm cum, creating a mess that I’ll dread cleaning up later. I imagine what it will be like to fill her, to pump her full of cum until she can’t take anymore, claiming her in a way I haven’t felt the urge to in so long.
When I’m completely spent, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling again, taking deep, calming breaths to get ahold of my jagged breathing. I can hardly believe I just jerked my dick to the thought of fucking Jessa, but what’s more surprising is how I’m already ready to do it again. The thought of her sends another rush of blood to my cock, making it twitch, but I shake my head firmly.
The next time I come, it won’t be alone in my room. It’ll be either in her or on her. I don’t care which.
eleven
JESSA
Filthy wet dreams entertain me throughout the night, and when I wake up, my thighs are coated with slick. It soaked through my underwear, which I expected nothing less than, but the sheets are drenched, causing my heartbeat to kick up in panic.
How am I supposed to explain this to Alessandro later?
Omegas are the only ones who can produce slick. The smell and consistency is different from average lubrication, and if Alessandro puts two and two together, he’ll surely figure out I’m not the beta I claim to be.
Fuck.
Maybe I can toss them in the washer with my dirty clothes and remake the bed before he notices.
Or maybe I should just come clean and tell him the secret I’ve been harboring.
Either way, laying here in the mess isn’t going to help the situation, especially not when I’m still fantasizing about all the things he did to me in my dreams, so I scramble out of bed and head for the bathroom to clean up and change. I’ll deal with the wet sheets somehow. I just need a little bit more time to figure it out.
When I emerge from the bedroom, the smell of breakfast is floating up the stairs, making my stomach growl in protest. Surely he isn’t making food for both of us.Why would he?He’s already surpassed any hopes I had at chivalry, giving me a job and letting me stay in his guest room for the night.
If anything, as a good omega, I should be makinghimbreakfast, but I guess I should have woken up earlier for that.
Next time. If there is a next time. Not that I’m hoping he’ll let me crash here again tonight, but I wouldn’t turn down the offer. Not when it means sleeping somewhere other than the backseat of my car.And not when it means being close to him.
I follow the delicious scents down the stairs to the kitchen, where Alessandro is working at the gas stovetop, expertly wielding a spatula as he tops off two plates on the counter beside him. He flips the burner off and grabs the food, wheeling around on his heel and stopping short when he notices me on the other side of the island.
He’s no longer wearing gray sweatpants, but black slacks and a blue button-up shirt like he’s ready to go to work. His graying hair is still damp and neatly combed, insinuating he took a shower not long ago, and the smell of charred wood and bourbon on his tanned skin smacks me in the face as he approaches slowly, turning my insides to mush.
“Good morning,” he says, sounding a little unsure. He places one of the plates on the island and gestures at the barstool in front of it. “Breakfast is ready.”
“Thank you.” I follow his gesture and take a seat, staring down at the plate before me, fully expecting a basic breakfast of eggs and bacon. However, that’s not what I find. “Are these… crepes?”
“Yes.” He cocks an eyebrow as he moves to take a seat next to me. “With maple ricotta. I should have asked–are you allergic to anything?”
“No,” I answer quickly, suddenly hyper aware of how close he is, mere inches to my right. I’m stunned to silence by not only his thoughtfulness but his effort to make breakfast. “It looks amazing.”
It almost feels like I’m still dreaming.
“I wanted to make sure you had something to eat before I leave for the day,” he says, shoving silverware in my direction. “I have an early meeting in town, so I have to leave soon.”
“Oh,” I say, thinking about the slick-covered sheets upstairs. I have to change and pack my things so I can leave when he does, but that doesn’t give me a chance to do anything about them. “I’ll hurry up and grab my things after breakfast.”
He pauses, shooting me a curious glance, and the weight of his eyes on me warms my skin. “What do you mean?”
“So I can… So I’ll be ready to leave when you leave,” I answer, stumbling over my words. I’m a nervous mess, and it’s only getting worse by the second. Despite my attempts at being calm and collected, Alessandro has a way of flustering me just by glancing my way.
He scoffs, cutting into one of his crepes and taking the first bite, humming his praises for his masterpiece. “You don’t have to rush. Just leave when you’re ready and lock the door behind you. It’ll be fine.”
I blanch, pausing with my fork halfway lifted to my lips. “A-are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he assures me. “Besides, you have work at four. I’m not going to make you go sit in your car until then.”
I mean to say thank you again, but the words die in my throat as uneasiness prickles my skin. I shouldn’t feel bad for accepting Alessandro’s kindness, but something about it feels wrong, like I owe him something in return to show my gratitude, even though he hasn’t asked for anything.
