Page 40 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
“Mmm,thank you,” I say, the words an almost pornographic moan as I swallow my first bite of waffle. The rich buttery flavor, mixed with the tart fresh berries and the sticky maple syrup, tastes extra good today.
Astrid raises a brow as I go to town on the rest of the waffle with no regard for table manners. “Did they not feed you there?”
Open your lips for me, sweetheart. I know you don’t want to, butDaddy needs you to eat something. Mmm, that’s a good girl. Now swallow it for me.
My cheeks burn at the brief flash of a heat memory, and I almost choke. “No, the heat minders made sure I ate enough to sustain me.” I clear my throat. “But it’s not like they could take breaks for every meal, so I’m pretty damn hungry.”
Astrid taps her chin thoughtfully. “You know, I never even considered that side of things. You think, oh it must be a dream to have hot group sex where you’re the center of attention, but the practicalities are decidedly less sexy.”
“Sorry for ruining the fantasy,” I reply drolly. I swallow another bite and wipe my mouth. “Also, you know you could have group sex outside of a heat, right?”
She cackles. “Jeff wouldnever. The man gets growly and possessive when the harmless alpha mailman waves at me.”
I kind of adore how much Jeff is obsessed with his wife. He’s all bark and no bite, a big alpha softie at his core who’d do anything for Astrid and their girls.
My omega swoons at the thought of having an alpha like that in my life. Which makes me grimace, because, ew, I don’t want to think about Jeff like that.
I set my fork down and rest my face in my hands with a heavy sigh, trying to force my omega back to the recesses of my mind. She’s been silent since we got home from the clinic, so I’d hoped maybe I’d only have to deal with those urges when I’m in heat.
“I hate this.”
“What? Jeff not letting me participate in a gangbang? Because I’m not actually interested in that either.”
I snort and look back up at my best friend, who gives me a lopsided smile that shows off the small gap between her front teeth. “No, not that.” I gesture to my heat-wrecked self and sigh. “This. Being a fucking omega.”
“Oh.That.” Astrid’s smile falls. “Yeah, that’s rough.”
I scowl at her. “Hey! You’re supposed to tell me that everything is fine and nothing has changed and it’s no big deal.”
She shakes her head. “We’ve both been around for long enough to know that delusion won’t help. And the truth is, you being an omega is a huge fucking deal. It’s crazy! Who the fuck reveals as an omega at your age?”
“Me, apparently,” I deadpan.
Astrid’s brutal honesty should make me more upset, but it’s actually calming me down a bit to know the freaked out thoughts rolling around in my head aren’t an overreaction.
I stare down at my empty plate for a long moment. “What am I going to do?”
She reaches a hand across the table and places it on top of mine, giving me a gentle squeeze. “What you always do when shit hits the fan. You’re going to let yourself wallow and freak out for a few days, then pick yourself up, and move on with your life.”
I groan pathetically, not liking that answer at all.
“Unless you want to reconsider the whole MILF omega, media sensation, star of the next Omega’s Choice idea,” she adds with a half-teasing, half-hopeful grin.
“Ugh, no thanks. I’m good.” The thought of my reveal as an omega being any more dramatic or drawing attention to it makes me want to die.
She sighs melodramatically. “Damn, okay. Well, then we’re back to plan A.”
Astrid lets go of my hand and leans back in her chair, leveling me with her best stern, but supporting mom look. “Cami, you’re a strong, mature, badass woman. If anyone can handle this, you can. And you’re not on your own. You’ve got your plucky beta best friend to help out. Starting with that hair.”
“Out of all the things I need to deal with, you’re worried about my hair?” I ask, rolling my eyes at her.
“If I’m going to sit here and look at you, yes. It’s worse than when Bea got gum stuck in her hair. Plus, you’re a little ripe, so a shower definitely is the first order of business. Then we’ll figure the rest out.”
14
After a lot of arguing,I begrudgingly agree to let Astrid help me take a shower and wash my hair. Mostly because when I try to lift my arms over my head to take my sleep shirt off on my own, I yelp at how sore I am.
It’s embarrassing having my best friend scrubbing and combing through my hair like I’m one of her daughters, but my omega loves it. Astrid giggles when I start purring, and gives me the delightful new nickname of kitty.
