Page 33 of Omega's Forbidden Heat
“That’s not what Janet and Leah saw. They got back ten minutes a go from a hack and they said they saw him running with you through the wood in some kind of perverted chase.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She swallows. No one was around when he kissed her. She would have smelled their presence despite Jack’s fierce, engulfing scent. As usual, it’s a case of two uptight snotty ladies putting two and two together and coming up with some sordid shit.
“I put up with you Amy, and your shabby horse,” the older woman hisses, jabbing a manicured finger towards Amy’s face, “because of your mother. Because I don’t like causing upset and making a scene. But I won’t have you giving this place a bad name because of your funny business.”
“My funny business?” Amy folds her arms across her chest and lifts her chest. “What funny business?”
“I know what your kind are like.” The woman lowers her voice, her eyes sparking with anger. “Now you have an Alpha about, andthatAlpha as well, you’ll be getting up to all sorts of revolting perversions. Have some respect for yourself, young lady. Or at least have the decency to be discreet.”
“What I do and don’t do in my private life, shit, in my public life too, has nothing to do with you or theses stables. Half the stuck-up ladies here are sleeping with each other’s husbands. Perhaps you should have a word with them and not me.”
“Don’t talk to me in that manner.” Sara’s eyes flash and Amy raises her chin and refuses to blink. “I’m giving you an official warning. You are already treading on thin ice at these stables. Buck up your ideas if you want to keep that wreck of a horse here.” Then Sara marches away, her heeled riding boots clicking on the path.
Amy’s shoulders slump. Shit. An official warning. She shouldn’t have lost her temper. Sara’s been waiting for an opportunity like this to slap a warning on her. One step towards chucking Maddock out of these stables once and for all. She buries her face in her hands. And those other ladies saw her with Jack. That will start the rumour mill spinning and soon it will be all over the village, the tale becoming more wild as it does. She just hopes Finn doesn’t get wind of it. Or her parents, for that matter.
Maddock seems better when she enters his stable. He is standing and his eyes shine once more. She fusses over him, tickling between his ears, stroking his neck, combing out his mane until the sweat on her body turns icy old and she begins to shiver.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, baby,” she whispers into his ear, burying her face against his. “I love you, please be better.”
The house is empty when she gets home, which is just as well because if Finn was here she’d be tempted to claw his eyes out. He has no business involving himself in hers. Jeez, there were plenty of times when she could have used her big brother’s help over the years, especially at school, but he never got involved. He’d always said she had to fight her own battles. And what, suddenly, that’s all different? Just because it’s sex. Just because it involves his friend. What’s he scared of?
She strips off her damp clothes and climbs into the shower, running it hot to try to warm her body. The caress of the water on her skin reminds her instantly of Jack’s touch. How determined it was. How firm. Yet it hadn’t been enough. She’d wanted him to touch her where it mattered. She wanted that so badly she could scream.
She flings back her head and lets the stream of water batter her face. Her body has been driving her crazy with need. Ever since he walked back into her life, through the door of the pub that night, it’s come alive, as if electrified, as if it’s lain dormant in wait for him. She aches between her legs with such force she can’t stand it and her skin tingles, everything against it too much. And what can she do? She catches whiffs of his scent all over the village, wherever she goes, and each time it seems to set off a new cascade of longing, of wanting, of needing.
And now she knows how his mouth tastes, how his body feels against hers. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. She wants him inside her, to fill her up in the way only an Alpha can, to make her come with his tongue and his dick again and again and again. She wants to taste more of him, all of him. Every inch of his skin. She wants to stuff her mouth full of his Alpha cock and feast on him.
The image of it swirls in her head, winding herself up to a frenzy and she grips the shower head in her hands, bringing it down between her legs and letting the flow of the water carry her over the edge. Then she stumbles from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her, and into her room. Opening her wardrobe, she tugs out the blankets and the cushions she uses for her nest, flinging them about, creating a tower of them and sinking into their depths, her skin still wet and burning from the shower. Rolling onto her side, she reaches into the bottom of the wardrobe and finds the giant Alpha dildo she has hidden there. Lifting it to her lips, she glides it into her mouth, imagining it is him, hearing his moans and groans in her ear as she sucks him off. Then, coating the thing in her spit, she plunges it up inside her, rough and hard, fucking herself as tears stream down her face.
It’s not the same. It’s not enough. It’s not him.
Chapter Twelve
What is he doing? What the fuck is he doing?
He doesn’t deserve someone like Amy. He shouldn’t be messing around with his best friend’s sister. He needs to stop this now. It’s just pent-up sexual frustration, that’s all it is. And he needs to find some other way to spend it.
Four and half years in prison was a long time for an Alpha. He’d dreamt frequently about what he needed, what he missed and he had all these plans about what he’d do as soon as he got out. Head to one of those brothels where you can fuck three Omegas at once, or find an Omega on one of those heat apps; fuck her into oblivion for three days straight.
But by the time he’d come out, his mum was dying and all those thoughts, all that need, died away, doused in his misery. And there has not been one flickering of re-ignition for all these weeks. He could’ve gone out and fucked someone, but he’s not wanted to. He has not felt the urge. Not until Amy. She’s the spark that’s had the flames inside him leaping to life and the fire is burning, raging, and it’s going to engulf him if he doesn’t do something soon.
He races down the Down, the slope so steep he stumbles several times, his calves sliced by brambles and bracken. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t feel it, he just wants to get the hell away from Amy and her tempting scent. It is lingering on his skin, twisting through the air, sucked into his lungs and he can still taste her on his lips, can still feel the way she sucked on his tongue. Shit. That makes his cock throb even more strongly.
He slams the door open and marches through the house straight to the shower, yanking it to freezing cold, forcing himself under the icy water. It bites on his skin and he shakes against the pain and the cold but it’s no use. He is as hard as ever and his hand wraps around his cock before he even realises he’s doing it. He braces his other hand against the tiled wall, closes his eyes and loses himself to the feeling, imagining its her mouth locked around him, sucking him off with hollow cheeks and big eyes. How he’d love to thrust deep inside her throat, to see his come spilling into her mouth. He’d make her swallow it, make her drink it all up, every last drop. He is rough with himself, knowing he deserves the pain as well as the pleasure, his hand shearing backward and forward along his large shaft. He shouldn’t be thinking about her, about this. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. Fuck, but he can’t stop and soon he comes into his hand with such force his legs buckle.
He knows it is not enough; he knows he needs more than this.
He needs to sell this house and get the fuck out of Losworth, as far away from this Omega as he can. He can’t afford to fuck up again.
The problem is, he doesn’t have the willpower or the energy for anything. Let alone another trip to town with the remaining boxes or the paperwork involved in getting the house on the market. His aunt and Finn are both working during the week so there’s no one to know that he barely leaves his bed, occasionally dragging himself down to the kitchen to find something to shove in his mouth before sloping back into his dark bedroom and staring at the ceiling.
Who cares? There’s nobody to care. His mother is no longer here to nag him to get out of bed, to peer at him with a worried brow and ask him what’s wrong. There are no prison guards either. Nobody signalling time to get up, no one forcing him out of his cell. So what is the point? He can lie here in his misery and his guilt. His mounting guilt — his mum and Finn and his little sister too. Maybe they should never have let him out.
By Friday, he knows he’s going to have to drag himself out of bed and get himself dressed. The weekend starts tomorrow and his aunt will be around to check up on him and he can’t face either a lecture or worried enquiries. First, he needs to tackle the house, walking through various rooms and collecting up dirty plates and mugs and then clearing the mess in the kitchen. Once the place looks less like a rubbish tip and a little more presentable, he decides he’ll go for another run.
He missed that in jail. You could run round the yard or on one of the treadmills in the gym, but it wasn’t the same as heading out under the big sky with the freedom to follow where your feet took you. He’d missed the empty space of the countryside, something that had bored him to death as a teenager, and the crisp fresh air. It’s like a medicine, a tonic. What has he been doing lounging around in bed every day when he could have been out there, pounding his feet upon the ground, making his body creak with the effort and leaching all thought from his head?
He yanks on a pair of shorts and t-shirt and toes on his trainers, yanking the laces tight. Milky light streams in through the pane of glass in the front door and he opens it, ready to inhale the musky scent of yellowing leaves.
