Page 8 of In Doubt
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By the time the plane comes into land, I’ve downed another four whiskeys and the world is blurry around the edges. But at least those edges aren’t as sharp and are a hell of a lot more bearable. Even if I can hear that my words are slurring and it probably isn’t the plane swaying when I stand up. Aiden has the stewardess brew me coffee so strong I could stand my spoon in it and whispers a lecture in my ear about putting on my best sober face if I hope to make it through passport control and immigration.
He helps me off the plane and down the steps, the force of the outside’s heat making me wince. From behind me, I hear that familiar voice whisper.
“Is he drunk?”
“No,” Aiden says firmly. “He’s fine.”
“He is. I can smell the booze from here.” There’s disapproval in her voice and I frown.
“I had to drink to get through the fucking flight,” I growl but it comes out as a bunch of nonsense.
Levi grips my elbow and leads me away. “Come on mate, no use torturing yourself any longer.”
“She smells so gooooood,” I moan into his ear. “Why doesshehave to be the one to smell like that?”
“Because life is a bitch.” Levi grins, but even with my blurring vision I can see he isn’t looking so great himself.
Somehow my packmates steer me through the security and immigration checks, collecting our bags from the luggage belt, and out into the lobby of the airport to a waiting driver. There is no way I’m sitting on a coach with that omega and her fucking scent for the next two hours. We’re making our own way there.
The journey is sweltering and bumpy, but with all the windows wound down the unhindered air is like a miraculous tonic. I’d been excited about soaking up all the sights on the trip but instead I close my eyes and don’t open them again until we pull up outside the five star villa Aiden booked.
It’s like an oasis in the middle of the desert, literally, a cool pale building with a flat roof and arched windows. Long drapes hang in the doorways and tall palm trees circle the property, casting spikey shadows. At the front, a deep swimming pool glitters in the bright sun and sun loungers with accompanying umbrellas wait by the side. It looks like something right out of paradise.
“Shit, how did you find this place, Aiden?”
He gives me a wink and then all three packmates usher me towards the shower. I do stink of booze and an ice-cold shower would help to sober me up. Unfortunately, ice cold isn’t an option as I turn on the blast of water. Not surprising in a climate like this. I have to make do with tepid. Still it helps to wash away that scent from my skin once and for all. Groaning, I lean against the ornate tiles imagining I can see the bright, luminescent particles of her scent wash away down the plughole.
Even the thought of that, the thought of her, has my cock stirring. I swear, taking it in my hand. Aiden is probably right. If I just screwed the fucking omega, this torture would end. But I don’t see how that is ever going to happen. I could be the last man on Earth and she the last woman, and we would probably choose to live on the opposite sides of the planet, just to be as far away from each other as we could possibly be.
Still, it doesn’t stop me from fantasising about it though. Imagining taking a handful of her hair and twisting it around my fist, then forcing her down on her knees and fucking her until she’s moaning and mewling my name, admitting that she wants my body as much as I want hers. It’s a fucking erotic picture, and I run my fist up and down my shaft, imaging my grip is the grip of her tight fluttering walls, imagining exactly what that would feel like, sound like, taste like.
The water from the shower splashes into my eyes, and runs down my chest and I imagine it’s her fingers trailing over my body, her eyes hooded with lust, her mouth parted and panting. My pace increases, my hold on my cock tightening, and I come with a powerful tortured grunt, thick ribbons of my seed hitting the shower floor and turning the water a milky white. It swirls down the plughole and I frown. Such a fucking waste.
I snap off the faucet and shake the water from my face. Fucking hell! Wanking in the shower like I’m some pubescent kid!
I need to get a grip.
3
Giorgie
My nose is pressed to the window of the coach. I gasp and coo and snap blurry photos on my phone. We don’t head right through the centre of the city, skirting the edges, but there is enough to capture my interest.
Skyscrapers and tower blocks intermingle with magnificent mosques, their domed roofs shining in the bright sunlight, and around them flat sand coloured buildings squat. The roads swarm with traffic, motorcyclists and pedestrians weaving in and out of the slow-moving traffic. Dust hangs in the air and I can smell sun and spices through the closed windows of the coach. We pass a busy market, stalls set out beneath colourful fabrics, trinkets spilling from displays on the walls across the ground. And here and there straight backed palm trees fan their leaves above the people below.
After an hour we leave the suburbs behind to the sounds of the call to prayer and hit the road that follows the Nile River. My breath catches in my throat when I first catch sight of it, wide and flowing with life. The blue of it is familiar and the clear sky hangs wide above it. Tall green grasses swamp its banks and sailboats and small cruise liners bob in its swirling current. It is truly awesome.
“I can’t believe we’re really here,” I whisper to Sia.
“I know,” she smiles back. Wrapping her arm through mine and resting her head on my shoulder, we both continue to watch the scenery rushing past the window. “I really hope we get to do some of the interesting work while we’re here and won’t be assigned all the dog’s body jobs.”
“I don’t care. I’d happily shovel camel shit for the week if it meant I could just see everything.”
“Camel shit?” Sia scrunches up her nose. “I hope not. Those animals are revolting. You know they spit, right?”
“No camel rides for you then?” I tease.
