Page 65 of Broken Heat
Mykel was in the backyard, surveying a patch of earth for a possible garden when I finally found him. I ran toward him and kicked at the fresh grass, wringing my hands, haltingly explaining what I thought might be happening.
We’d settled in so well here and called this place home. We’d dreamed together and made it happen.
I’d long since sold Coah’s estate. Despite our fortune from that, Mykel still worked three days a week as a sex therapist in the city. His patients were both omegas and alphas—sometimes couples. But he no longer did surrogate duties.
Mykel stood quiet and still as he listened to me. Sometimes I could be over-exuberant. Sometimes my words didn’t come out right. When I was excited, I started sentences but didn’t finish them. I paused to search for the correct words. Today, I wanted to be clear. Very clear.
“Mykel!”
“Yes.” He smiled. “I hear you loud and clear, sweetie.”
“Something is—I’m not sure—it’s been so long.”
He frowned and laughed simultaneously. “Go slow. Use full sentences if you can.”
“Um, it’s all over. Like hot. My skin. It’s like on fire. I’m wet.” I rubbed at my behind and then realized how childish I was being. I took a deep breath and schooled my voice. “I am in heat.”
Mykel’s mouth opened. He strode toward me, put his hands on my shoulders and began to sniff.
I batted at his arms. “Stop that, oaf.”
“Like spun sugar,” he whispered.
“Yeah, I know.” I cocked my hip, hand on my waist. “Are you going to take me in the house and have your way with me now? Or are you going to make me suffer?”
He laughed and bent, pulling my arm up and putting his head beneath my shoulder. He rose, his arms around my hips and I was immediately airborne in a fireman’s carry.
I could not stop giggling even as he took me into our bedroom and threw me onto the mattress hard enough that I actually bounced.
“Hey!”
Mykel pretended not to notice my mock protest. He said nothing and lost no time tugging my pants down, pulling my shirt over my head.
My skin flamed in the open air. Slick leaked from me. My cock stood straight up, the weight of it making it bend toward my stomach.
“Do you need me?” he asked.
I raised myself on my elbows. “No, I don’tneedyou.”
His mouth closed. He stepped back, brow furrowed.
“I crave you. I want you. I yearn for you. I can’t hold myself together for all these feelings tearing me up inside.” I bent my knees, pulling my feet up, and spread them.
Mykel looked down at me. He licked his lips.
I grabbed a pillow, put it under my lower back, and lifted my hips. “Is that enough of an invite?” I asked.
He huffed. Puffed. Pulled his shirt over his head and undid his pants. They slid to the floor and I saw him hop once toeing off his shoes, kicking everything away.
Gloriously, naked, his cock bounced up.
I put my hands behind my hips and on my cheeks, opening myself for him.
He gasped and leaned down. “You’re killing me.”
“What?”
“You keep bleaching that sweet honey hole, my love. It’s torture.”
