Page 41 of Omega Chattel
“We’re not rushing, then.”
But he’d already alluded to being hurt in the past. I knew his careful mannerisms and his need to help wayward Omegas and his house rules of not sleeping with his wards had been part of the result.
Tarin stood. “Come. It’s getting late. And don’t you have more studying to do?”
Disappointment reigned.
He held out his hand to me but I pretended I didn’t see it. Still feeling the touch of his full lips to mine, I couldn’t believe it was over so soon. That he wanted me to go off to my room, away from him, away from this.
I grabbed my computer and jumped up, stalking ahead of him toward the veranda.
I kept my head down as I reached the indoor stairs, listening for him, yearning to know that maybe he followed me. But he did not. I was alone.
I went to my room and plopped on my bed, but I didn’t study. I set my computer to the side, lay back against the many pillows, and stared upward in a daze.
My whole body felt charged as if I’d walked through an electrical field. My skin felt cool to the touch, but hot underneath, and my veins thrummed with arousal. My cock pushed hard against my underwear beneath my trousers. In my abdomen, pulses of pleasure trembled through me, keeping me poised in this state, on the brink of excessive need. My asshole felt wet and hot, and I squirmed on the bedspread, trying to get more comfortable but not succeeding.
Finally, I got up, stripping off all my clothes and turning on the shower. First I made the water as hot as possible. When that only annoyed me, I turned it to cool and let it sprinkle over me for a good long time.
I did not jerk off as I usually did when I became aroused. Instead, I let my anger control me—anger that Tarin had seemingly rejected me. That he had just let me go and pushed me to my room to be alone. I knew why, and I knew I shouldn’t be angry. He had not told me outrightno. He had kissed me. Well and thoroughly.
That had not been rejection.
But he put me off, making me feel like an unruly puppy to be swatted away when he went too far. And that was what I didn’t like.
After the shower, I walked soaking wet back to the bedroom and flopped on top of my bed again, not caring if I soaked my coverlet. My wet hair immediately dampened my pillow.
I lay in the darkness, stark naked, feeling the air skim across my wet skin, slowly drying it.
My cock stood straight up, leaning toward my belly, heavy and hot. Not time away from Tarin nor the shower made it go down. I didn’t want it to go down. I wanted it to remain hard like this, ready and waiting for Tarin. Forever if need be. I didn’t want to feel normal ever again.
This buzz, this heady physical excitement stirred my mind round and round.
I hadn’t even realized I’d spread my legs, knees up, to expose my hole to the air. It felt open and ready. I was ready. Ready for an Alpha to take me. But not just any Alpha. Tarin. Only Tarin.
Just the thought of his name sent a wave of pleasure through me, making my cock throb.
Tarin said he didn’t like virgins, but I knew what I wanted. He wouldn’t have to work hard at all to have me. He wouldn’t even have to teach me if he didn’t want to.
Tarin. Tarin.
My mind would not stop reciting his name, sending me to higher realms of ecstasy without release.
I heard water in the pipes in the walls. Footsteps on the hollow floor.
I sat up and lay my head over the headboard and against the wall, turning so my cheek pressed the coolness of the layers of white paint.
I sensed him moving around his room, back and forth. I smelled the fiery cologne of his skin as I imagined him removing his clothing, first his shirt, then his shoes. Next, the trousers. He wore tight black underwear which cupped his heavy balls, and he was erect.
I could see it in my mind’s eye and I knew it to be true. All of it. What he was doing. The color of his briefs.
My cock bobbed in the darkness, seeking connection and touch.
I watched him as if I were looking through a window into his room. He brushed his hand across his crotch, lightly cupping his balls before giving a sigh and letting his hand fall. My imagination? No. It had to be real. The image was too well-focused in my mind.
I wanted to be on my knees before him. I craved it like nothing I’d ever craved before. This was a hunger like starvation. As if I didn’t eat right now, I’d die.
My mind wrestled with many scenarios. I could lie in bed and stroke myself until I came and then maybe get some sleep. I could do nothing and lie awake all night and let myself suffer in this floating ecstasy. Or I could get up. I could be bold. I could go to him.
