Page 12 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
I tug the door closed behind me with too much force, then lock it. My fly is down and my stiff cock is in my hand in seconds, and I groan at my touch. This is wrong, but if I don’t get some relief, I won’t be able to function for the rest of the night.
Her scent still fogs my mind. She was perfuming so much that my clothes smell like her. Like an absolute lunatic, I unbutton my shirt and yank it off, balling it up with no regard for how wrinkled it will be later, and press it against my nose with one hand as my other returns to my cock. Inhaling deeply, I have to stifle the groan that follows.
Fuck, it’s like a shot of espresso right into my veins. My dick is slick from the copious amounts of pre-cum I’ve been leaking since she asked if I’d help with her heat. It’s a miracle I didn’t come in my pants when Camille brazenly eyed my erection.
Camille. Such a pretty name for an even more gorgeous woman. God, what I wouldn’t give to bury my face between her ample tits, worshiping and teasing them until she begged me to fuck her. With how turned on she was, I bet I could make her come just from playing with her breasts.
I grunt into my perfume-laden shirt as I stroke my cock in quick, brutal strokes, wishing my shirt was her slick-soaked panties instead. Though, she said she’d thrown them away.
Fuck, she was sitting there with nothing to hold back her gushing pussy. My crazed alpha wants to sneak into the room as soon as she’s gone, steal paper from the exam table, and lick her wetness off of it. I was dying for decent coffee earlier, but now I’d gladly give up caffeine cold turkey for a chance to taste Camille.
I bet she tastes like heaven.
I groan and shuttle my hand up and down my cock even faster, my hips thrusting into my own grip. My swollen knot throbs as it bumps against the tunnel of my fist, and I imagine it’s Camille’s pussy instead. She’d whine and squirm as it rubbed against her clit, but I’d take my time. I’d have her shattering around me over and over until she's delirious from need. Stretched open by my thick cock, with slick running down her thighs. Only then, when she’s begging for me to give her the relief she needs, would I give her my knot.
Fuck.My cock erupts as I squeeze my knot in a poor facsimile of what I crave, and I have to stifle a moan by shoving my shirt into my mouth. Cum pulses out of me again and again, until I’m drained and limp, my back propped against the door to keep myself upright.
My grip on my shirt eases and I let it fall to the floor, narrowly avoiding the puddle of jizz at my feet. Sanity slowly returns to me in the aftermath of my frenzy, and with it comes shame.
Oh god, I can’t believe I did that.
I scramble to grab a handful of tissues from the box on my desk and drop down to frantically swipe up the mess I’ve made. I ball them up and shove them into the trashcan near the door, but curse.
I can’t leave cum-soaked tissues in my trash. That’s evidence of conduct that could get me fired. I fish them out and look for something else to put them in that I can take home with me.
The only thing I see is my insulated bag that I packed my dinner in. Ugh, I’ll have to bleach it when I get home, but it’ll have to do. With a grimace, I hide my shame in the lunchbox, then douse my hands in sanitizer and spray on more scent blocker.
My button down is horribly wrinkled, but I can’t work the rest of the night in my undershirt, so I pick it back up and slip it on. A pulse of desire in my gut is set off as I catch Camille’s scent on the collar again.
How the hell am I supposed to focus when her perfume is there, teasing my alpha?
No, the better question is, why the hell is her perfume setting my alpha off this hard? I’ve practiced medicine and interacted with omega patients for over twenty-five years. And not once in all those years did I have to fight so hard for even a semblance of control. Sure, there’s been an occasional omega that smelled good. A few that caused a dull arousal, but that was manageable and to be expected.
This? I’m scared to admit to myself what I think it might be. After multiple heartbreaking attempts at finding an omega for our pack, we agreed that we’d be better off without one than trying to find the person who fit. Finding an omega whose scent calls to me like this… ascent match—god, my stomach does a flip even considering thatpossibility—could undo the work we’ve put into making our pack stable and happy in the aftermath of failed omega relationships.
That overwhelming prospect aside, Jackson and River are going to have a field day when they find out. Because it’s not a matter of if, but when, my packmates learn I almost went into a rut over a patient. Right now, I can sense their confusion through our pack bonds. As much as I appreciate how bonding made our pack even more connected, I have to admit I miss them not having a backdoor into my emotions at times like this.
Barely a moment passes before my phone buzzes with a text from our group chat.
Jackson: Dude, did you just come? At work? I thought that was my job.
I snort. Jackson’s been working as a heat minder for a few months. He got burned out at his corporate gig and I was the one who suggested he try it out, since I knew our heat services are always looking for reliable and respectful help. As much as the boisterous beta drives me crazy sometimes, Jackson is both of those things.
Jackson: You’re at work right now, aren’t you? Or was covering a shift a ruse so you could go out and get laid?
Ambrose: What? No! I’m at work and I didn’t get laid.
I consider pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about, but he won’t buy it. Plus, River is no doubt seeing this entire conversation and I can’t lie to my mate.
Ambrose: I got a little worked up and needed to relieve some tension so I could focus.
River: Ah, that explains it.
I don’t feel any unhappiness through my bond with River, which is a relief. Not that I expected anything. My mate is one of the kindest and most understanding alphas I’ve ever met.
Still, I scrub a hand across my face and let out a deep sigh as I imagine giving him all the details about what happened when I go home. I know logically that masturbating to get some relief isn’t anywhere close to cheating. We agreed from the start that we were open to other partners both together and individually, so being attracted to Camille also shouldn’t be a problem. But if she’s my scent match… that’s different than adding a casual hookup to the mix. Definitely not something to be discussed over text.
Jackson: I knew you had a thing for Bradley. Isn’t he a bit young for you, though?
