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Bringing my gaze back to him, my eyes drop to his very obvious problem, and my pussy clenches around nothing. Of course, the hussy would want his knot. Greedy little bitch can’t be satisfied with a mind-blowing orgasm that was created by literally dry humping and his mouth on my tits. I almost snort, holding in the hysterical laughter.
I lick my lips, my face probably glowing from the heat that is rushing to my cheeks. I’m really going to offer to get him off. It’s only right. One orgasm for another. It has nothing to do with the fact I want to see him. If the length and width look impressive trapped in his sweats, I can only imagine what it would be free.
“I could,” I say, gesturing at his issue.
He blinks, his palm cupping his cock through the fabric, then he shakes his head.
No.
He said no to a blow job.
I pull in a shallow breath, attempting not to drag more of his insanely appealing scent into my lungs. If I do, there is no telling what I’d do. Drop to my knees and pitifully beg for a taste? Nothing says needy bitch like begging. Or maybe climb back into his lap and ride out another orgasm?
Pushing my hand through my hair, I press my lips tightly together and give a nod. Then I practically run back to my room. Locking it behind me, if I could set it to unlock at a certain time, I would, just to keep myself in the damn room. His pheromones cling to me, and I shed my clothes as I head for my third shower of the last twenty-four hours.
* * *
When morning arrives,I groan and bury my head beneath my pillows, blocking out the happy music coming from the other side of the door and the blinding sunlight. I slept late apparently. After a moment, I sniff my wrists and armpits. At least I am not perfuming now.
Putting off getting out of bed for as long as my growling stomach and full bladder will allow, I kick off my blankets and climb out of my bed and makeshift nest. Then pad over to the bathroom and take care of the morning routine of using the toilet, washing my face, and brushing my teeth. If I had some descenting lotion, I would use that, too, just for good measure.
Moving the purchase of the lotion to the top of my list, I go into my closet and grab new underwear and leggings before coming out and grabbing my hoodie from the floor where I had left it. I pull it over my head and freeze. Late fall nights sitting in front of the fire wash over me with Austin’s scent that is clinging to my hoodie.
I rip it from my head like it burns and suck in a fresh breath to clear my senses. The fact that I want to pick the sweatshirt up off the floor where I threw it and bury my head into his scent is crazy. Still, I scoop the hoodie up and fold it while holding my breath, placing it on my bed. I should wash it. But something holds me back from throwing it in my hamper.
Going back into the closet, I eye the section of shirts on hangers. A black hoodie I don’t remember from the first day hangs at the very end, and I tug it out of the place it is stuffed and hold it up. It looks almost exactly like the old one I just folded up. Same size, same brand, and super soft. I absently run my fingers along the velvety soft interior as I decide to put it on.
It is the same comfort as my old one, and the fact that someone obviously tailored it to be the same made my heart thump painfully in my chest. Had Austin done something so thoughtful?
As I curl my fingers into the sleeves out of habit, my thumb pokes through pre-made holes.It has thumb holes!Pure joy at that simple fact spreads through me. It is small and insignificant, but he noticed my habit and made sure the shirt accommodated that.
We are not falling for the dominant alpha. We are not falling for the dominant alpha.It is my new mantra as I head for the bedroom door.
The music is vibrating the hanging lights over the kitchen island as Felix bounces around, dancing to his own beat. It brings a smile to my face. He doesn’t see me. The rest of the area is empty, so it looks like he is my babysitter for the day.
His hair is now a bright blue, and I’m not sure when he dyed it. The sides are newly shaven too. I glance at the clock, and my eyes widen. Eleven? I slept that late? He could have done all that and gotten back this morning.
He startles when his eyes land on me before a smile spreads over his lips. Then he is bounding over to me like an excited puppy and drags me into his happy dance. I laugh and let him. Some kind of tension leaves my shoulders.
After last night and offeringmoreto Austin before being rejected, I wasn’t sure I could show my face again.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks over the music.
“Like a rock.”
I smile as I bounce around with him. Our hands intertwine, and our bodies bump every once in a while. It is at that moment I realize I didn’t flinch when he came at me, or when he touched me. And even now, with our fingers tangled, I don’t feel like I need to escape. Unexplained moisture gathers in the corners of my eyes, threatening to make a river down my face.
Maybe my mantra for not falling for the dominant alpha needs to expand to include the other two, because my heart is in danger.
The second song ends, giving a lull to the happy beats. And if he sees the emotion gathered at the corners of my eyes, he says nothing. Instead, he releases my hands, and my fingers curl in with the loss of his touch before he lowers the music.
“You must be hungry,” he says as he opens the refrigerator door and peers inside.
“Starving,” I admit. My stomach loudly agreed with my words.
He sighs and shuts the door. “Not much breakfast food. Want to go out?”
The last time I was out for brunch, there were cameras. I wince.
