Page 5 of Forbidden Taste
My chest tightens, caught up in the swell of the romantic moment. Her words echo in me, tugging at something I’ve been holding back. I don’t even notice my hand drifting down, palming myself through my pants. The pressure builds, my fingers rubbing against the fabric as my breath hitches. And then I come—sudden, messy—coating the inside of my pants with a soft groan.
I clear my throat, heat prickling my cheeks, and pause the show before sitting up just enough to see the mess I’ve created. Slick and cum is soaking through my pants, a dark, wet patch spreading across my thighs. My cock’s still hard, straining, and my body’s heating up, a slow burn creeping beneath my skin. I know what this is. Leo’s my scent match—has to be.
Constantly breathing him in like this, it’s pushing me toward my heat. I whip out my phone, fingers fumbling as I check the dates. My next heat isn’t due until after graduation, more than two weeks away. But the signs are here—the flush, the slick, the ache. As much as this is the wrong fucking time to have a heat, I’m hoping Leo will share this with me. I don’t want to scare him off, but the thought of those big hands wrapped around my waist while we go at it?Yes, please.We’ll need an Alpha, sure, but that’s the least of my worries right now.
I stand from my nest, the pillows shifting beneath me, and strip out of my clothes. The damp fabric peels away, my skin sensitive as heat pools in my lower belly. If I indulge myself—keep his shirt pressed to my face, let my hands wander—I’ll tip over the edge.
My heat could hit tomorrow or early next week, and I’m not ready. No, a good shower, more of those strawberry chocolates stashed in my drawer, and sleep will pull me back from the brink. “Yep, we’re just going to ignore everything going on down there and enjoy Helena falling in love with her crush,” I tell myself, resisting the urge to further the fantasy in my head.
Unfortunately, my Friday night plans fall apart when my phone starts ringing—my mother’s name coming up on the screen over the paused TV show. She only ever calls when she wants something or needs to tell me off which could be any number of things. I haven’texactly been the best student this week and every time Benjamin has approached me, I have found ways to avoid him.
Except for this afternoon.
The call ends and then her name is back on the screen again. Best case scenario, if I don’t answer she’ll show up at my apartment door demanding to know what’s wrong. Worst case? It’ll be Benjamin.
Begrudgingly, I reach over and swipe across the screen. Mom’s voice cuts through before I can even say hello. “Professor Jameson spoke to me about the incident in the practice room.” My stomach twists, panic spiking in my chest. What incident? Then she keeps going. “Benjamin said the same thing—about you not practicing enough. Come outside in fifteen minutes. A car will pick you up for dinner.”
I slump against the edge of my nest, Leo’s shirt still warm against my neck. “It’s Friday night,” I protest, instantly glad that Professor Jameson didn’t let my mother know about the other incident. “I just want to relax.” Being the golden Omega on campus comes with a lot of perks but there’s also a lot that happens behind the scenes with an overbearing mother and professors who claim they just want the best for me but are constantly up my ass.
“Don’t keep us waiting, Riley.”
The line goes dead and I sigh, knowing exactly who’ll be at that table—my parents, Benjamin, and probably one or more of my professors, all poised to dissect my future. Trying to avoid the inevitable will only come to bite me so I manage a quick shower, spritzing myself with the spiced apple perfume I found three months ago. It’s a cheap imitation but in this moment, it keeps the panic at bay.
A few moments later, I’m stuffed into my favorite clothes, a fluffy pink hoodie and jeans—comfort clothing in times like these. Mom is going to pitch a fit and Dad will look at me like I’ve publiclydisgraced the family but I should be able to enjoy the little things—like fluff, frills, and sweets. Leaving behind my nest and my strawberry chocolate pains me but I rush down to the courtyard anyway, a sleek black car waiting for me.
The ride is quiet, the driver not saying a word even as he pulls up to the entrance of a posh restaurant—one I’m not dressed for. In my defense, I’m hot, restless, and I was supposed to be curled up with my show, not here. I also purposely dressed like this, hoping that my parents would be too ashamed of me and send me home.
My mother’s scowl hits me first—lips pursed, eyes narrowing at my outfit as I round the corner toward our usual private booth. Benjamin stands, pulling out a chair for me. He always plays the perfect gentleman around my parents, one of many reasons my mother is smitten with him. I wish just once he’d show his true colors. The reality is that even with the truth I’m not sure my mother would dislike him.
I take my seat, not even phased when I meet my father’s disappointed gaze and the two professors on his other side—one’s the head of operations at the Karlen Center. Which means that this conversation is rather serious and most likely time sensitive. Demanding we talk about the ‘incident’ this afternoon was just a way to get me here.
No one speaks, just the awkward silence filled with the clank of forks and knives, everyone devouring the items on their plates. It’s nearly nine and I’m not hungry for dinner, especially not when I stare down at my portion—a perfectly manicured steak the size of my fist and three limp asparagus spears. I want my strawberry chocolates. Or something thicker. Like Leo’s cock.
I swallow the whine bubbling up my throat and shift in my chair, heat creeping up my neck. My scent sweetens a little as the memoryof his lips on mine flits through my head. It’s going to be so damn hard hiding my feelings for Leo, not that I want to but I’m not exactly ready to tell my parents.
Benjamin starts talking, his voice droning on about discipline and focus, his plans for the future, forus, for the company but I’m not really listening. I’m more focused on his scent, one that I never found entirely appealing but now seems almost repulsive. It’s not that I hate citrus but it’s just notmine.
I start curling in on myself, planning my escape, my comfort levels in this situation dropping. Mom has taught me to be the perfect Omega, one that doesn’t show their emotions, act out, talk back, and willingly submits. But her rules goes against everything that an Omega truly is because I want to be myself, nurture, be needy and whiny. I want to cling.
Just not to Benjamin.
Someone taps the table, drawing me out of my thoughts, the professor from the Karlen Center offering me a soft smile. The Alpha leans forward, producing a small pamphlet, complete with the building splattered across the front in some overly artistic mess. “We have a great opportunity for you. One that would put you in the spotlight, possibly give you the ability to graduate early.”
There’s a catch, though. There’salwaysa catch.
I wanted to go to art school. The catch? Get married when I graduate.
I wanted a separate apartment to really enjoy my time alone, to fall into my nest after classes and not worry about anything else. The catch? Sign up for the most rigorous music degree which would have me graduate in three years rather than the usual four.
And now, they’re offering me an opportunity to graduate early.
I don’t trust it. Dragging the pamphlet closer to me, I flip open the first section, a lengthy schedule sprawled across the page—rigorous, relentless, a two-week gauntlet that would kill me. Rehearsals from dawn to midnight, workshops stacked on top of each other, no breaks, no air. I’d be pulled from my classes, my life shredded to fit their mold.
The professor starts explaining all the ins and outs about the program, going over prestige and exposure, how I would go from the golden Omega on campus to the music world’s Omega sweetheart. They all want me to be this grand superstar, performing on large stages and showing the world a talent I’ve perfected.
But I’ve never wanted that.
I justreallylove music, the expression it takes to showcase it, the emotions it invokes… the freedom it gives me as my fingers glide across the keys or when I take a bow to my violin.
