Page 66 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
His subtle earl gray scent floats over to me as those enticing fingers brush against mine as I pet Dahlia, who has scrunched herself between my legs to lean all her body weight against me.
“I apologize for being so rude. I usually like to at least say hello to a woman before I show her my weiner,” Jackson deadpans.
I release out a sputtering laugh at his joke, and Ambrose groans, which earns a cheeky grin from the beta.
“It’s okay.” I smile down at the sweet dog I’m petting. “Lucky for you, I like your weiner.”
Ambrose lets out a bark of laughter at my response.
“Oh, I remember,” Jackson teases back, giving me a filthy smile as he sets the wheels to the side and scoops Dahlia up with one of his muscled arms.
He stands and offers a hand to steady me, and I accept it, my skin tingling pleasurably at his touch.
“It’s so good to see you again, Cami,” Jackson says, beaming at me. “When Ambrose told me you were coming over, I thought I was dreaming. But here you are.”
“Here I am.” My cheeks burn at the memory of everything this man did to me during my heat. “It’s strange to see you after, uh, everything, but I’m glad to be here.”
“Strange, but awesome,” Jackson says. “At least for me.”
Ambrose looks between us, and a small smile curves across his lips. “Why don’t you give Camille a quick tour while I set the table and we wait for the food to cool enough to not burn our mouths?”
“Oh! Yeah, that’d be great. If you’re cool with that.” Jackson’s excitement is abundantly clear in his tone.
I thought I’d be more nervous being around Jackson again,since the extent of our interactions were discussing my sexual need and him fulfilling them, but his enthusiasm sets me at ease as much as Ambrose’s soothing presence.
“Of course. I’d love a tour.”
“Here, give me Dolly.” Ambrose reaches out to take the dog from Jackson, giving her a kiss on the head once she’s cradled in his arms. Jackson places a hand on my lower back and guides me back to the hallway, and as we leave the kitchen, I hear Ambrose murmur, “Hey sweet girl, you stay with me while your daddy talks to Camille.”
I freeze hearing Ambrose use the word “daddy”, and Jackson and I exchange a weighted look. Awkward silence stretches between us, but a few moments later, he bursts into laughter.
“Thank god I’m not the only one who can’t hear him say that without thinking about…” He gestures to me and waggles his eyebrows, “Everything that happened.”
I join his laughter, relieved to acknowledge the elephant in the room. “So that wasn’t a figment of my heat addled imagination?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. That was very real. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at the old man the same way again. And he definitely needs to stop referring to me as ‘Daddy’ with Dolly.” He shudders melodramatically and I laugh harder.
“So you don’t call him Daddy on a regular basis?” I tease, recalling Ambrose telling me they don’t have an intimate relationship.
Jackson sputters. “N-no! Definitely not.” He clears his throat and a slow, dirty grin spreads across his lips. “Though I wouldn’t mind hearing him say it again if it were with you.”
Heat washes over me at the thought. I drop my eyes, unable to look directly at the handsome betawhile he’s flirting with me. It was a lot easier when I had heat hormones pumping through my system.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous when you blush,” he murmurs, closing the distance between us to push my hair out of my face.
I look back up at him, mouth parting on a silent gasp when I see the heated look in his eyes. “Too bad there’s no time before dinner to see what else I can do to make you flush so prettily.”
22
The flustered lookon Camille’s face at my suggestive words makes my cock pulse. In an attempt to keep my cool, I jacked off in the shower as soon as I found out she was coming over. Clearly not effective. The only reason I wasn’t hard the second I laid eyes on her again was because Dolly was being a little terror.
The omega looks breathtaking tonight. Yeah, she looked amazing coming on my cock and covered in my cum, but there’s something about the delicate dress that has me all worked up. The flowy fabric of the skirt is begging to be pooled up over her hips while I taste her.
Screw dinner, I want Camille.
You’d think I’m the one with the damn scent match with how into her I am. If this is how I’m feeling after a few minutes in Camille’s presence again, it’s a wonder that I didn’t come back to the house to find her bent over the kitchen island with Ambrose knot-deep inside her.
Camille’s rapid breaths draw my eye to the swell of her tits, which are generously displayed by the low neckline ofher dress. My fingers twitch to reach up and cup them, remapping them with my touch until she cries out with need.
