Page 84 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
“Thank you.” She lets out a soft exhale. “Seriously, I appreciate it. It’ll be really nice to spend some time together. It feels wrong that you’ve been inside me, and I don’t even know your last name.”
I make a small choked sound at her casual mention of us fucking. “It’s Knight. Now that you know, do you want me inside you again?” I say it teasingly, but set Dolly back down so I can cover my swelling cock before any passersby notice me getting hard and think I’m some kind of sidewalk pervert.
Camille snorts. “Maybe once I find out more. Like where you were born.”
“Do you also want my date of birth and my social security number? The name of my first pet?”
A peal of laughter erupts from Camille, loud enough through the phone speakers that Dolly hears it. Her ears perk up, her head snapping around to look for the source.
“Damn, you figured me out.” Camille sighs dramatically. “Oh well, guess I’ll have to steal someone else’s identity.”
“Go for Ambrose. Old people are notorious for falling for identity theft schemes.”
She giggles. “Thanks for the tip.” Her laughter dies down and there’s a brief pause before she continues. “You said you were free today. Do you want to go get it over with?”
I scoff. “Uh, do I want to spend time with the funniest, sexiest omega I’ve ever met and help her pick out things for her nest?”
“Who are they? I didn’t know I had competition.” Camille’s joking, but I remember how uncomfortable she was with compliments before her heat overrid her insecurities.
“Listen, if we’re doing this whole courting thing, you’re going to have to accept that I think you’re sexy as fuck, and have the brains and wit to match. You’re amazing, Camille. Deal with it.”
“Yes, sir,” she replies, the bratty edge to her tone sending a thrill through me.
“Good girl. Now, what time do you want me to pick you up?”
As much asI would’ve loved to see the look on Camille’s face if I rolled up to her apartment on my motorcycle, I end up borrowing Ambrose’s car since we’ll need to have something to bring our purchases back with. It’s probably for the best, since having the beautiful omega clinging to me with her spectacular tits pressed against my back might’ve been too much for me to keep what little cool I have left.
When I arrive at her apartment building, she’s already waiting outside. There’s a moment of dread as my eyes flash to the clock on the dash to make sure I’m not late, but if anything, I’m a few minutes early.
Looks like she’s eager to see me. Either that, or she doesn’t want me coming inside and seeing her place.
There are no spaces open to park on the street, so I pull up as close as I can get and keep the engine running. When Camille doesn’t notice me after a few seconds, too busy frowning down at her phone with her springy red curls falling into her face, I roll down the passenger window. “Hey gorgeous. Need a ride?”
She startles and looks up from her phone, eyes wide for a moment, before a smile settles onto her face.
My heart skips a beat.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
I try not to stare at the way her tits jiggle under her fitted top as she scurries over to get in the car before people honk at me for blocking traffic.
“Hey!” she says breathlessly, sliding into the passenger seat.
“Hi!” I beam back at her, unable to contain my wide smile. I’m so damn happy to see her again. Especially since I didn’t know if I ever would.
“Thanks for picking me up! My car is, uh, a bit of a mess.”
I nod. “No problem! If I had a car, it’d probably be a mess, too. Luckily, I can steal Ambrose’s instead and pretend to be put together.”
She giggles, pushing a curl behind her ear. “You don’t need to pretend. Every time I see you, you look flawless.” Her cheeks flare red at her own words, making my smile widen.
“You think I’m flawless?” I ask, leaning toward her. Camille’s breath hitches at my proximity, her glossy pink lips parting as I reach toward her.
“You know you are,” she murmurs, eyes wide and probably wondering if I’m going to be brazen enough to grab her tit five seconds after seeing her. She doesn’t move to stop me, though.
Interesting. I file that reaction away as I grab the seat belt and pull it across her, slotting it in to the buckle with a click.
I inhale, eager to get some of her energizing scent, but it’s not there. Damn, she must be wearing a neutralizer. I wonder why. It’s perfectly fine to go out most places without it on because most modern buildings have pretty sophisticated air filtration systems.
