Okay, so I definitely licked his neck. That is a thing I just did.

“You smell so good,” I murmur into his throat, running the flat of my palm down the center of his chest, gliding it over one of his nipples as he gasps. “Why do you smell so good?”

“I think you’re in heat,” he says through gritted teeth. “Fuck, this is exactly what I was talking about.”

It seems surreal. I’ve known I was an omega for an entire day. How can I already be in heat?

Maybe if I wasn’t so concerned with the possibility of dropping to my knees and wrestling Hunter out of his sweatpants so I can see what his dick looks like, I might have a better answer to that question. As it is, my brain is still hung up on the promise of the aforementioned dick.

His massive hand wraps around my wrist even as I’m going for that particular prize, tightening his grip. This also turns me on for reasons I can’t explain. He’s just so big. Was he always this big?

“We can’t,” he says. “You don’t know what you’re doing right now.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I purr, using a voice I have absolutely never used before. “If you’d let go of me.”

“Tess,” he says more firmly, but I detect the strain there. “I’m not touching you. Not when you’re like this.”

“That’s okay,” I hum. “I can just touch you.”

He groans, a noise that from here sounds painful.

Me too, buddy.

“Tess,” he rasps, his voice suddenly sounding tortured. “I can’t.”

And as if my body seems to get the message, realizing it won’t be getting what it wants, the cramps return with full force, threatening to cut my knees out from under me with how much it hurts. I cry out as I wobble, and Hunter’s arms are there, holding me close so I don’t fall. It feels so nice I don’t fight the urge to nuzzle into his sternum.

“Hurts,” I say again, sounding small and pathetic all of a sudden.

“Shh,” he soothes. “I know it does. I’m sorry.”

“Can’t you just touch me?”

I don’t even know how I know that he can help me, but I do. I fucking know it. Why won’t he help me?

“No, omega,” he says forcefully, his tone making me shiver. “I’m not going to touch you.”

I can feel tears welling in my eyes, and distantly I know that tomorrow, I’m going to be really embarrassed by that. Now, though, all I care about is the fact that Hunter is seemingly going to abandon me to my predicament.

I look up at him with tears clinging to my lashes, and the pain I find in his features, the intensity there—it makes me wonder if I’m not the only one suffering. His thumb strokes my cheek, and I lean into the touch, begging him without words for more. When I turn my face to lick at the pad, the sound of his sharp intake of breath washes over me.

“Don’t cry,” he says soothingly, his expression gaining resolve as he brushes the hair from my face.

“Hurts,” I say again.

He holds my face in his hands, staring into my eyes with a look of resolve and maybe even regret. At any other time, I would be wary of that look.

“I’ll help you,” he says softly.

I blink back at him, trying to register what he’s said. “You will?”

“I will,” he promises. His expression takes on a hard edge. “But I’m not going to touch you.”

I frown at this, because I don’t see how he can do one without the other, but before I can question it, he’s gathering me up in his arms. He kicks the door shut as he pulls me into his embrace like I’m some sort of princess, and I cling to him for dear life as he carries me to his bed, my needy body thrilled by this development.

But then he sits with his back to the headboard, situating me until I’m cradled between his legs with my back touching his front. His arms go around my middle as if anchoring me, and his cheek presses to my throat, his nose following after it as he breathes in.

“I’m going to give you my scent,” he tells me. “It will help. Okay?”

I’m nodding vigorously, not even entirely sure what he’s referring to but wanting whatever it is that he’s willing to give.

I feel the prick of his beard against the delicate tissue of my throat as he pulls me tighter, and only seconds later it gives way to his clean-shaven neck, the skin sliding against mine in a way that, for whatever reason, lights me the fuck up.

“Oh.”

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s good.”

The guttural quality that his voice has taken on makes my pussy throb even harder, and I swear to all that’s holy, if he asked me to get down on my knees for him right this second, I wouldn’t hesitate.

“I know it hurts,” he hums. “I’ve got you.”

I nod, whimpering when he rubs his throat across mine again.

“Jesus. You smell…” His nose skirts along the length of my neck, his shuddering breath washing my skin, warming it. “Ripe.”

I don’t even know if that’s good, but he says it like it is, and my entire body quivers with the praise. Just fucking absorbs it like a sponge and then asks for more. My back arches slightly as I squirm, and I can feel him hard and insistent against my ass.

God, I want that.

“Hunter,” I mewl. “Please.”

“Hand in your panties, Tess,” he commands, clearing his throat as he tugs his face from my neck. “You’ll need to touch yourself.”

I shove my hand into my pants so fast I could be in a professional competition to get there first—my modesty apparently a thing of the past—hissing between my teeth when my fingers meet my wet, oversensitized flesh. I let out a shaky breath of relief when my fingers slide into my slick folds, the relief immediate.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Feels better?”

I nod jerkily. “Uh-huh.”

“Mm. Good.”

I’m already moving to shrug out of my sweatpants when he stops me, holding me tighter.

“Uh-uh,” he says. “That isn’t what this is. I’m trying to be the good guy here.” I feel the ghost of his lips against my throat, can practically feel him murmuring, “So don’t tempt me, Tess.”

“Please,” I whimper, barely even knowing what I’m asking for.

“You’re going to make yourself come,” he tells me. “That’s all that’s going to happen here. I don’t want you to stop until you soak those little fingers. Can you do that?”

I suck in a breath. “Y-yes,” I manage. “I can do that.”

“That’s a good girl,” he breathes, then his grip on me tightens, like he’s realizing what he’s said.

What is wrong with me that those words have me seconds from combusting?

I circle my fingertips around my throbbing clit, hyperaware of the weight of his arms under my breasts, the scratch of his beard on my neck, the press of his hard cock against my lower back.

I want fucking all of it.

“Don’t stop,” he says through gritted teeth. “Keep touching yourself.”

I nod as I resume my pace, every swipe of my fingers making my thighs clench and my skin feel just a little tighter. My head lolls back against his shoulder, and from the corner of my eye, I can almost make out the darkness of his hair, his face turned to mine as if watching me. I feel the gentle press of his lips skirting along my jaw, and I work my hand faster, chasing that promise of release, trusting Hunter that it will make everything better.

I grunt in frustration when I can’t seem to get there fast enough, and Hunter’s answering hum comes from deep inside his chest, his voice sounding raspy and somehow more than usual.

“I know it’s not quite enough,” he says. “You need a knot. Don’t you?”

I don’t even know what that is, but I feel myself nodding.

Is that what I need? Would that make the ache go away?

I tease myself harder, my body arching into my own touch as Hunter’s voice in my ear takes me to new heights.

“You’ll just have to make do,” he goes on. He breathes in deep. “Fuck, Tess. I can smell you. I can smell how fucking wet you are. What are you doing to me?”