Page 102 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
When I readily agree, a purr rumbles out of him and he laughs it off, embarrassed by his alpha’s eager reaction. I guess going into my nest is a big deal for most omegas, but all mine tells me is to get him in there ASAP and let his perfect scent soak into every inch of the space. I still have Jackson’s shirt that I stole tucked under a pillow, and having their scents blended together again would be amazing.
Despite his cock appearing eager as ever, when we lie down on the large mattress, Ambrose makes no move to address it. Instead, he tells me to take off my robe and asks if I have any massage oil. When he straddles my back and works his magic on the tension between my shoulder blades, I send out a silent thank you to Jackson for insisting on me getting massage oil during our shopping trip.
Soft groans slip from my lips as Ambrose finds every spot of tension along my spine, making me melt into the mattress.
“Feels so good,” I murmur, my words sounding half-drunk.
“That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart,” Ambrose chuckles, his hard cock insistent against my ass as he moves on to my arms and hands.
Every touch sends me deeper and deeper into relaxation, even as arousal pools between my thighs. My eyelids grow so heavy I can’t find the energy to open them. I try to cling to consciousness, knowing that I shouldn’t fall asleep when there’s a gorgeous alpha in my nest touching me, but when a rumbling, deep purr fills my nest, I lose the fight, drifting away into darkness.
33
“Dammit,you’ve got to get back in bed before you pass out!”
Jackson gives a carefree shrug and continues to fuck around. When I glare at him, he chuckles.
“Dude, seriously. We can’t afford the doctor's bill if you pass out. You already drained all our resources with your nonsense.” I run a hand through my hair, watching the clock anxiously.
“Alright, chill. I’m getting in bed.” Jackson meanders toward the bed, pausing for a moment to check something in his inventory right as he gets to the edge of it. He almost gives me an aneurism as he fucks around until the very last possible second.
He slides into the bed right before the clock flicks to 2am, and the screen goes black with a cheerful little chime to tell us that the day has ended.
Jackson sets his controller down and takes a sip of his beer, eyeing me as I ease down from the seething frustration that’s been building inside me thanks to his chaotic play style. “All inall, a pretty good day,” he says as the game shows a tally of our earnings.
“Would’ve been better if someone didn’t spend half the day giving shitty shells to random townsfolk instead of helping me in the mines,” I grumble, taking a heavy swig from my can of cider.
When Jackson proposed, or more accurately, bullied me into having a best friend game night, I was excited to spend some one-on-one time with him. Our schedules haven’t aligned well since he started working as a heat minder. Half the time I’m free, he’s gone, and vice versa. And now with him starting to date Camille, the odds of me getting solo time with Jackson aren’t great.
Not that I blame him. He hasn’t dated in a long time, and I’d be a hypocrite to begrudge him exploring a romantic connection. Jackson didn’t give me shit when I met Ambrose and fell head over heels for him. He doesn’t complain that my mate is almost always there too when we hang out. Granted, Jackson’s not interested in me romantically, so that probably makes it easier for him to see me with Ambrose.
Shit, what am I even saying? I’m not interested in Jackson romantically, either. Or Camille, for that matter. Both of those ships have sailed.
The only potential saving grace for friend time with Jackson is that Camille is dating Ambrose, too. You’d think I’d be upset about my mate going off to be with someone else, and yeah, there’s a touch of that, but it means there’s carved out time when both Jackson and I are free from any other obligations.
As much as the big beta shithead is annoying me right now, I can’t help smiling to myself. Sitting on the couch together, drinking, gaming, and taking the piss out of each other reminds me of college. Before any real adult responsibilitiesgot in the way, we’d spend entire weekends eating garbage and wearing divots in the shape of our asses into the crappy secondhand couch we got for our first apartment together.
Those were some of the best days of my life.
They were also some of the most sexually repressed, given I was still pining for the handsome beta who’d never look at me the same way.
But amazing, nonetheless.
“Why do you have that weird smile on your face?” Jackson asks, poking me in the arm. “Are you plotting revenge? Because I don’t think you’re able to kill other players in this game. Unless you installed some kind of twisted mod.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes at me. “Did you desecrate our idyllic farm with the ability to murder, you sick freak?”
I scoff. “Unfortunately for me, no. Otherwise I would’ve done what was best for the good of the farm already. You’d contribute more as fertilizer.”
Jackson gasps and clutches his chest. “Hey, I’m making valuable social connections! Not everything is about working your ass off and how much money you can accumulate.”
“You’re just trying to romance as many villagers as you can.” I roll my eyes. “But newsflash: Everyone hates those fucking shells. You’re not even doing a good job of being a lothario.”
Jackson crosses his arms over his chest, and I have to take a swig of my drink to tamp down the way my stomach flutters when the sleeves of his shirt strain across his massive biceps. If I didn’t know better, I think he buys his shirts too small on purpose to torture me.
“Yeah, well, at least I’m trying! Good luck getting any action down in the mines.”
We scowl at each other for a long moment before we bothbreak, our silly argument falling away as we erupt into laughter.
“Wanna do another day?” Jackson asks, wiping a tear from his eyes.
