Page 79 of Game Over

I was fucking walkingon air.

Between the incredible sex we’d had on stream the night before—and the fat cheque that came with it, pushing Tara and me’s dream of buying a house way closer to the front of our minds, and the stream we’d planned for next week… It was like I was untouchable.

Glitch didn’t want to watch Tara with some fucking alpha, he wanted to watch her withme. No Charlie needed for fat paydays and strings of praise.

I hadn’t felt this good in forever. Something about the whole experience felt like it’d unlocked something inside of me I hadn’t known about before.

Okay, it’s that I very clearly have an exhibitionism kink,I thought with a laugh as I rolled across the bed to put my feet on the floor.And being dommed in the chat by Tara’s faceless whale.

I got out of bed, earning a displeased meow from Inky in the process, her big green eyes narrowed as I stretched my armsover my head. My muscles were stiff and achy from the night before, protesting as I arched my back.

“Sorry, little buddy,” I whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Luckily, the under-the-desk stream wouldn’t be for a bit, so I had a little time to recover before I’d need to perform like that again.

Though, I had a feeling it’d be pretty much all I’d think about until then. I couldn’t wait to have Tara’s stream up on the third monitor as I played. To watch her worship me as I fought to focus on playing.

We’d agreed with Glitch that it was a fair enough request that I pay attention to his wants in the SLCK’d chat, given Tara herself would be too busy making sure that I missed every shot I tried to take.

I turned to look at her, curled up into a little ball in the middle of her nest-like bed, dark hair strewn in waves across the collection of purple pillows.

How’d I get so lucky?

Even if we weren’t bonded, it was like just by having her nearer I was calmed. Her scent sharp and yet comforting in a way I’d never experienced with another partner. I hoped that someday she’d want to take that step with me, but… It wasn’t like I was an alpha. I understood if it wasn’t really her priority.

Omegas were drawn to alphas—the physiology of their designations predisposing them to be good sexual matches for a needy omega in heat.

My fingers brushed over the side of her cheek, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and away from her eyes for a better view of her face.

But that didn’t matter to Tara. I knew it didn’t. These were fake worries bred from her accidental bond and a lifetime of subtle jealousy I had toward Charlie. I hadn’t even really noticed it, a slowly simmering thing that I’d managed to bury in favor ofbeing excited for my friend that his life seemed perpetually easy. Sure, he’d never been popular. But who cared about that when you were a sexy, natural genius with a thick bank account?

That was out the window now.

Sure, it was partially Tara’s fault. She was the one who bit him, after all. But I wasn’t mad so much about the bite—we’d always known that someday an alpha would have to be a part of her life in a more serious way—it was that Charlie had a habit of accidentally always getting the things I wanted.

And that was fucking annoying.

Tara’s face scrunched up, her eyes blinking awake. She was always a bit grumpy when she woke up, given she was absolutely a night owl and any time before noon meant she’d only gotten a few precious hours of sleep. But, to be fair, what self-respecting streamer was a morning person, anyway? It felt like the antithesis of a job where you clocked in after everyone else had eaten dinner.

But, as soon as her pretty brown eyes met mine, her expression evened, lips lifting upwards into a light smile. “Morning, lemon drop,” she said, her voice slurring softly with sleep.

“Good morning, sweetie pie. Want some breakfast?”

“Blueberry pancakes?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I can do that.” I’d been to her apartment enough that I knew my way around the kitchen… Or at least could pretend I did. Luckily for me, Tara didn’t make a habit out of watching me cook so I could open the wrong cabinets as many times as I needed without getting embarrassed.

I pressed a quick kiss against her temple before catching her lips, retreating to pad my way to the kitchen.

Tara was all about having an aesthetic living space and her kitchen was no exception. The white cabinets were builder grade and came with the place, but she’d replaced the cheap silverhardware with black door pulls that complimented the slate grey, nearly black, sparkling countertops. I wasn’t sure what kind of stone they were made of, but I’d always been a fan. They’d even made it onto the house wishlist–though we knew we’d probably have to install them ourselves.

Her kitchen was just as cute as the rest of her place, all of her small appliances—kettle, toaster, stand mixer, and even her espresso machine fitting into the overall purple heavy color palette effortlessly.

Before her, I didn’t realize there were so many shades of any color, much less purple which seemed pretty straightforward. Red plus blue. One step above a primary color. Pretty basic. But, there was a staggering degree of difference. Violet, orchid, mauve, heliotrope–which I often said was closer to pink, but Tara quickly put me in my place about—plum, amethyst, and mulberry to name a few.

I pulled the frozen blueberries from the freezer and took out the pancake mix and powdered sugar from the pantry. My girl loved her sweets, no matter the time of day, and had a particular fondness for a sprinkle on top of her pancakes.

The batter came together quickly with the help of some vanilla, eggs, and milk from the fridge and I folded in the blueberries carefully, making sure not to break them. Butter sizzled in the pan heating on the stove as I scooped out some batter with a measuring cup, dumping it into the middle of the nonstick surface.

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