Page 39 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
An hour isn’t nearly enough. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough from them.
17
I should leave.Not the house entirely, but the room. Now that Camille has Jackson and Ambrose to take care of her, my being here seems like taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Taking advantage of the grace everyone is giving me tonight. I already got far more than I ever dreamed. That’s enough.
So why aren’t I moving? There’s a perfect built-in excuse to go check on Dolly. Jackson already has Camille naked and rolled over onto her back, her legs splayed as he feasts between her thighs, and Ambrose is mid-undressing. I doubt they’ll even notice if I slip out. But every pulse of needy pleasure through my bond with Camille, and the echoing lust coursing through my packmates, has me rooted to the spot like a voyeur.
“Mmm, that’s it, gorgeous,” Jackson murmurs, lifting from between Camille’s thighs to smile at her and slip three fingers into her slick pussy. The ecstatic look on her face and the burst of pleasure I get from her bond take me from feebly pretending I’m not paying attention to so hard I could hammer nails. “Give me another while Daddy is getting ready for you.”
Fucking hell, does he always refer to Ambrose as “Daddy” when the three of them are together? There’s a pulse of arousal from Ambrose’s end of the bond as Jackson mentions him. Is it because he’s getting into his role as Camille’s daddy or because he likes when Jackson calls him that?
I notice a hint of a flush on Jackson’s cheeks as he grins at Ambrose over his shoulder before diving back down to suck Camille’s clit. Does Jackson like calling him that?
I never allowed myself to think about the details of Camille’s heat, worried that jealousy would consume me. Not that it did any good. Now that I’m here in the room with them, it’s not jealousy I’m feeling. It’s breathless anticipation of what’s to come.
There’s no way I'm being noble and leaving on my own. I won’t go unless Camille asks me to.
The second I have that selfish thought, a wave of guilt crashes over me.
Ambrose’s gaze snaps over in my direction, no doubt sensing my intense worry. He’s slipped his pants and boxer briefs down his legs and, god, I missed seeing him. He’s so handsome, it makes my chest ache, but I know his stiff cock and naked body aren’t for me. At least not right now. I may’ve bossed him around a little on Camille’s behalf, but I need to earn back his trust to be with him like we were before.
I hate that I’m distracting him. Making him frown. Keeping him from going to the omega currently writhing on his bed, desperate for his knot. All the insecurities I’ve worked hard to fight rear their ugly head, telling me everything would be so much better for them if I weren’t involved.
I grimace at the cruel sting of my inner voice, trying to turn it into a smile to reassure my mate.
That voice is wrong. I have to believe that, or nothing will ever change. I have to trust my pack, who told me they wantme back here with them, over the self-destructive lies I tell myself.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” I force the words out. I need confirmation that I’m wanted, even though it makes my insides squirm to open myself up to rejection that wouldn’t be unwarranted.
Ambrose’s frown softens, and he nods as my words contextualize the emotions on my end of the bond. “I want you to stay, but it’s up to Camille.”
Knowing that my mate is willing to have me stay is enough to soothe the ache in my chest. I’ll understand if Camille doesn’t?—
“Stay,” the omega in question says on a shaky exhale. Her head turns to look at me, her watery eyes meeting mine in a desperate plea that pierces right into my heart. “Please, please don’t leave.”
A ragged whine falls from her lips, and Jackson lifts from between her thighs to pull her against his chest, kissing her neck and cheeks and holding her close to reassure her. “He’s not leaving, Cami.” He shoots a stern, challenging look my way. “Right?”
My heart races and my muscles tense, my alpha bristling at his tone but knowing that what I do next could make or break everything. All eyes are on me, hurt and hope swirling in their bonds.
You’ll only let them down again.
You’re not enough.
They’d be happier without you.
The familiar chorus rings in my head.
I take a step. Then another. One more and I’m beside the bed, reaching out with a shaking hand to swipe away a tear rolling down Camille’s freckled cheek as she watches me with wide, glassy eyes.
“I’m not leaving unless you ask me to,” I say, voice strained from emotion.
A spike of guilt hits me from her end of the bond, almost as potent as my own.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have…”
I stroke her cheek again, hating to see her cry. Hating that I put her in the position where she’d want to push me away so vehemently. Hating that this night can’t just be one of passion and pleasure for our pack because of my actions.
But beneath that anger at myself, hope flickers to life.
