Page 43 of Broken Heat
It was him.
Elon.Making the hairs on my arms and legs prickle. Causing the oxygen to quite suddenly leave the room. Making me feel bitten all over from last night. Kisses both soft as silk and sharp as needles infecting my blood. Forcing me to wake like this, my hand on my cock as it pulsed all over my stomach and thighs.
It was him.
I moaned and hissed as the edge did not leave me, the bliss to breed overwhelming, the force of my will causing me to get up and start pacing, stark naked, the small confines of my apartment.
This couldn’t happen. Wasn’t happening.
I rutted once a year. That was it.
It had all come perfect circle.
First I couldn’t perform with my last two patients and now my third patient had sent me into a sexual spiral inducing a completely unexpected rut.
Something was seriously wrong with me and the therapists had not caught it.
It was also embarrassing as hell. I had zero control anymore, it seemed. Would I lose my job?
I rubbed my palms against my face, as if that would clear my mind. All it did was bring Elon’s scent closer. He was all over me despite the fact that I’d showered before climbing into my bed. Rose-hip and iced tea and watermelon on his lips. Skin flushed and giving off the perfumes of summer need, a wet oceanic caress my body thirsted for.
And those eyes—they held the color of the Caribbean.
I dreaded calling in sick, leaving Elon at this precarious time in his therapy. But I couldn’t go to him like this.
I paced some more until I got so heated up I had to jump in the shower and take care of things again.
I had methods for dealing with ruts when I was alone.
I quickly took care of matters with both my hand and a lovely throb setting on my shower massage, but my erection did not go down all the way. I wanted to mate. I wanted an omega and I couldn’t think of anyone but Elon.
My professional ethics were being sorely tested.
I dried off and wrapped a black sarong around my waist. I hated any clothing touching me when I was in rut. Sarongs where the loosest and lightest.
I dropped onto my couch with a rather satisfying thud and picked up my phone.
“Mykel.” Senta’s smooth voice sent a calming wave of energy through the speaker. “You don’t usually call me in the middle of a treatment. What’s happening? Are you all right?”
Nothing like getting to the point. “I woke in rut this morning.”
“What?”
“I can’t continue with Elon.” Why did it ache so much in my chest to say those words? “I know it’s the third time in a row I’ve screwed up my job and I’m completely shocked and upset.”
“Stop. Just stop, Mykel. It’s going to be handled. I promise. Do not stress yourself any more over this. It will all be figured out. You haven’t screwed up the job.”
I had completely fucked things up, but Senta was one of those nice bosses who could make you think having a cold and asking for time off still got you that gold star. “You’re family,” he always said to each and every one of us. “We take care of family.”
“Elon is precarious. Special. He’s slowly revealed things to me that allowed us to reach some pivotal points last night. He’s so eager and trusting but he needs care. Real care.” Like holding and petting. Like lying still and relaxed so he could see and learn all over again what consensual touch does to a body, how it affects no two people the same, yet the act itself is universal.
It felt strange to be talking about Elon like a patient. In my raging, rutting mind he stood larger than life, a precious and wonderful being who, in a very short time, had rather melted my heart.
“Please, if you can make sure of it, have my replacement be kind.”
There was a protracted silence over the phone, and then Senta said, “You know them all. They are all very well-trained. And kind. Your mind might be a bit fogged right now, which I understand. But any one of them will be very good for Elon. Don’t worry about it another minute.”
“I didn’t mean it how it came out,” I quickly said. “It’s just that Elon is in a very vulnerable position right now.”
