by Aiden Bates
I breathed in again, gently this time, wondering for a second if I was having a stroke. But burned toast, this was not. The scent was light, musky, lingering somewhere between savory and sweet. It sent parts of my brain I’d nearly forgotten even existed to suddenly light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July as saliva flooded my mouth from beneath my tongue.
Then, I heard him in the doorway—just a slight shuffle as he entered from the dining room—and just like that, the scent was amplified.
One glance over my shoulder at the flush of his cheeks, and immediately, it all clicked into place.
“Sergeant,” he said softly, holding out his plate and meeting my eyes.
The sensation exploded then. The intensity. The rough, unbridled desire. I could feel every cell in my body tugging me toward him like I was a piece of steel and he was a magnet. Drawing me to him. Beckoning me closer. Not with his words or the sound of his voice, but with his sheer existence.
If I’d been the kind of man who acted on every idiot thought that entered my brain, I would have had him pressed up against the fridge in an instant. Jeans pulled down to his knees. One arm slung round his shoulder, pulling his back against my chest. The other forcing his boxers down so I could wrap my fist around his cock while my teeth sank into his neck. From there, I knew the drill. Bodies set in motion stayed in motion. Hard, fast, and deep. That’s how I’d take him. I could feel it in my balls already, the urgency with which they wanted to empty themselves into the perfect tightness of his ass.
But I wasn’t that kind of man.
Never had been. Never would be.
Which didn’t make it any easier to dig my heels into the tile of the kitchen floor as we stared each other down like two boxers in a ring. Unblinking. Unmoving. Both of our adrenal glands pumping away, urging our brains to make a decision.
Fight or freeze.
Fuck or flee.
The plate slipped from Bennet’s fingertips, crashing to the floor and shattering on impact. Sharp, clean-lined shards skittered across the tile, paving the way between us with broken china.
“Shit—” Bennet bent down to pick up the pieces.
“No.” I held up my hand, careful not to take a step forward. We were close enough as it was. “Don’t worry about it. Are you…”
Bennet nodded, biting his lip as he straightened. The way he stared at me as he did it—like I was something infinitely powerful, terrifying and desirable all at once—only made my cock throb even harder.
“Head home.” I gave the order the same way I would’ve given it to one of my men. “Straight there. You’re okay to drive?”
He let out an awkward little laugh. “I’m in heat, Sarge. Not drunk.”
“Mm. Good, then.” I nodded, swallowing hard and making a point of staring down at the broken plate instead of letting my gaze slide over him. My every brain cell was begging me to do just that, but the urge to take him was bad enough already. I didn’t need to take in how exquisitely delicious Bennet looked on top of everything else.
“I’m… I’m sorry about the plate,” Bennet said, backing away. “And about… Well…”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. Just…be safe. Okay?”
“Thanks, Sarge.” I sensed him hesitating for another moment in the archway. Like he was struggling just as hard as I was not to act on his more basic urges. Throw himself at me. Give in to the wanting that his body was hard-wired to find almost impossible to ignore.
It wasn’t until I finally felt him leave the kitchen and head out the front door that I finally moved to get a broom and dustpan. Focusing on sweeping up the shattered plate kept my mind from wandering to places I didn’t want it to go, but the whole time I was cleaning up, my cock was still stiff and straining against my jeans in a way that was impossible to ignore.
As I dumped the broken china in the trash I breathed in again and discovered his scent was still lingering. Incredible. It didn’t surprise me that the smell of Bennet’s heat was so strong—it was usually like that for younger omegas. Heat hit them hard, fast and intensely. No, what surprised me was that I could still smell it in the air, even after he was long gone. The effect lessened on alphas as we got older. I’d long suspected I’d been becoming less sensitive to it over time.
But with Bennet…
With Bennet, I might as well have been a twenty-three-year-old again, at the height of my awareness to the presence of a hot, fertile omega in my home. My balls ached, and my cock was so stiff it nearly pained me as I moved from the kitchen to the bathroom where I stripped down and turned the shower on as cold as I could get it.
My dick sprang up from beneath my boxers as I unceremoniously tore them down before launching myself into the icy embrace of the water pouring from the shower head. When it hit the heat of my skin I could nearly feel steam rising off of me as the muscles of my back seized up in an involuntary shudder.
But despite the shock of the cold water, my cock was still refusing to go down. It leapt up against my stomach, standing at full attention. Military-like. A true soldier, saluting proud with every breath I took in.
“Fine,” I growled down at it, closing my eyes and wrapping it up in my fist.
I could hardly believe I still had this in me. This hunger. This impossible, unrelenting need. My cock practically purred at my touch as I pumped my shaft, steady and firm, building to an orgasm that had nothing to do with Bennet’s soft smile or the way he’d leaned into me to show me the photo album or the way he’d hesitated when I’d ordered him to go home. No, it was just the heady cocktail of hormones and pheromones that had me shooting rope after rope of thick, pearly cum over my chest and stomach.
The sensation left me gasping, bracing my forehead against my arm as I leaned up against the wall. I hadn’t felt like this in years. Hadn’t come like that—with such force, in such volume—in even longer.
It was incredible, addictive, heart-pounding and adrenaline-rushing. And, I determined, clenching my jaw as I washed the cum off my torso, it couldn’t happen again.
I needed to keep my distance from Bennet Long. An omega far too young for me with a heat that was far too powerful to ignore. My son’s best friend.
I certainly couldn’t have him over here again. That much was for certain.
Because next time…
Next time, I wasn’t sure I could stop myself. And with the way Bennet finally looked at me as he left, I wasn’t sure he’d want me to stop.
8
Bennet
My head pounded the whole ride home, like a hammer slamming against a bowl of Jell-O. I turned the air-conditioner on full blast, relishing the feeling of the cold air against my skin. But nothing could stop the fire burning inside me, blindingly hot, needy and hungry beyond my ability to control it.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, my knuckles were white from the grip I had on the steering wheel. It was all I could do to stop myself from turning the car around and driving back to Logan’s house. Crashing through the front door. Going down on my knees for him, pawing at his zipper and begging him to just fucking take me, already.
That was being in heat for you—and mine was worse than most. Worse than usual, even. Most omegas at least had some kind of warning, even the youngest ones. Back before my incident with Chris, I’d been able to spot all the telltale signs. A growing sensitivity to smell. A heightening libido. The way I could go wet with hot, sticky lubrication at the slightest glimpse of an alpha who I could imagine bending me over and having his wicked way with me. I’d even been able to track it with an app on my phone that sent off a little alarm a few days beforehand, at least giving me some level of ability to make plans.
But now… Now, it was urgent, unpredictable and immediate. One moment, I’d could be at work, changing bedclothes. The next, I’d be flushed, horny and desperate, suddenly hyper-aware of every alpha in a twenty-foot radius.
One moment, I could be polishing off a tuna sandwich in Logan O’Rourke’s dining room. The n
ext, I could be wracked with need as the plate he’d served it on slipped from my fingers onto his kitchen floor.
I nearly sprinted through my front door, and once there I braced my back against the cool, hard wood like a soldier taking shelter from a loosed grenade. Ever since that fateful night with Chris, my heat had been dangerous for me for more reasons than one. My evil, abusive asshole of an ex had left just as many mental scars as he had physical ones. The damage he’d done to my uterus was one thing: it was unlikely I’d ever be able to carry a child to term, maybe even get pregnant to begin with, but in the wake of the violence I’d experienced at his hands, being with another alpha at all sometimes felt damn near impossible.
Which did one hell of a number on my head when all my body wanted was to fuck and be fucked. Be filled. Be used.
Be bred.
I let out a long breath, my shoulders heaving with relief now I was in the safety of my apartment again. Thankfully I’d only been around Logan when my heat started, and I hadn’t been at The Piggy Bank or god forbid, Simmer. I weighed my car keys in my hand, feeling the heaviness of the possibility they contained. Part of me was actually tempted to head over to one bar or another now. They were both known hook-up locales. Exactly the kind of places an omega like me could easily find a hot, ready alpha to take me home for the night to satisfy the cravings only a thick, hard cock could put to rest.
But no, I couldn’t let myself do that. Not now. Maybe not ever. I’d trusted Chris not to hurt me all those years ago. He’d taken that trust and wielded it against me like a sharp, double-edged knife. If I couldn’t count on my own partner not to hurt me in the way he had, how the hell could I trust some strange alpha not to do the same… Or worse?
I shivered, realizing once again how lucky I’d been. If there was any alpha in all of Fort Greene who was enough of a gentleman, enough of a decent human being to be confronted with a young, horny omega freshly in heat and handle it with dignity and grace, it was Logan O’Rourke. I knew exactly how easily he could have kicked aside the fragments of that broken dinner plate. How quickly he could have had me up against the fridge, wrists pinned to the door of the freezer, his hips grinding against my erection, his lips capturing mine…
A second shiver came, this one a little less grateful. God, it was terrible, but in this state I almost regretted that he hadn’t. It was impossible to deny the pure, unadulterated facts of the matter. Logan was exactly the kind of alpha I often found between my thighs in my personal fantasies. Hard, strong, bulging with muscle. So handsome it made my heart ache. So authoritative, stoic and deliberate that I practically melted at the thought of him. I knew exactly how a man like that would take me: relentlessly. Passionately. Claiming every inch of my flushed, ultra-sensitive skin with his hands, his lips, his teeth, until finally, when I was absolutely begging for it—
I shook my head, trying to knock the fantasy free. I couldn’t even think straight in my current predicament. Couldn’t even string thoughts together without feeling my libido pulling them into the gutter. My body was desperate for sex enough on its own, but when I added in the way Logan made my mind sink into that rich, sensual, black velvet place where all I wanted was to be ravished and owned, I was absolutely useless.
Useless, but lucky. So, so, incredibly lucky. In the crashing waves of my hormones, Logan O’Rourke had been a thing of safety and guidance. Like a lighthouse on a rocky shoreline, he’d stood tall and firm. Done the thing we both knew needed to be done.
He could have taken me. Could have had me in his bed, writhing and gasping between his sheets with just a single word.
Instead, he’d ordered me home.
His depth of integrity was amazing—except for the fact that it only made me want him even more.
My cock throbbed, blood rushing so fast and hard to the engorged, dark pink tip of it that I nearly felt like I was going to pass out. The moment my heat had come on I could fucking smell him. That faint, masculine scent of soap and aftershave and light sweat, drawing me to him like a moth to a bug zapper. With his muscles and his military training, he could have wrecked me. Ruined me. Left me sobbing deliciously in a puddle of my own honey and his cum.
The fact that he hadn’t only made him more desirable. That kind of restraint, that self-control, was exactly what I wanted in a man, and Logan O’Rourke had it in spades.
I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. As I headed to my bedroom, keeping a hand on the wall to steady myself, I held that memory of Logan’s scent steady in my mind. Heat was a one-track tunnel of luxurious darkness, and he was the light at the end of it.
As I collapsed into my bed, already tugging at my belt and the button of my pants, I felt that light crash over me like a fucking freight train.
I wriggled out of the tangle of my pants, and then yanked open the drawer of my nightstand, fumbling blindly amongst the probably long-since-expired condoms, passing over a bottle of lube I was too wet to need until I found what I was looking for: a slim, obnoxiously purple dildo with a vibrating function that Mitch had gotten for me as a gag gift for my birthday years ago. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered with it. After Chris I was still a little twitchy about having anything even near my ass. But this heat wasn’t like any of the others. Just jerking myself off wouldn’t do.
I set the vibrations onto the lowest setting as I curled the fingers of my free hand around my shaft. It wouldn’t even take all that strong of a grip to get me off, horny as I was, but then, as I leveled the tip of the dildo against the pucker of my ass, my fingers tightened involuntarily around my cock like a vice.
A sigh left my lips as I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to think about Logan or, at least, I knew I shouldn’t have. Jerking off to Teddy’s dad was something I’d done once or twice back when I was just a hormone-addled teenager, too wrapped up in my own newfound desires to care about right and wrong. But now… Now I was an adult. Old enough to be responsible for my own actions. Old enough to know better than to go fantasizing about a man more than twice my age—especially when that man was my best friend’s father.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed the thoughts away and focused on the sensation of the dildo slipping through my tight, soaked ring and sliding up against my prostate. Hormone-addled or not, I’d always had a particularly sensitive prostate. With the right kind of mental stimulus I could’ve been orgasming in just a few minutes. But the only thing I wanted to think about in that moment was the look in Logan O’Rourke’s eyes in the moment before we’d both come to our senses. Before he’d sent me home and I’d practically leapt out of my own skin in my eagerness to obey.
I pumped away at my cock, feeling just on the edge of an orgasm for what felt like nearly an hour, but not reaching that state of release. My hips bucked with every gentle thrust of the dildo in my ass, my fist sliding up my shaft and over the pink, velvety tip of my dick in perfect rhythm.
But no matter how long I tried to focus on anything else, thoughts of Logan kept resurfacing with every little wave of pleasure. Penetrating myself, stroking myself off—it all felt good. But it felt so, so much better when I had Logan on my mind.
The fire in his gaze.
The rise and fall of his chest as he’d breathed in the scent of me. Noticed the flush on my cheeks.
The way he’d barked that order at me, “Head home” and how much more eagerly I would’ve obeyed him if he’d just given me a different order instead. On your knees, Bennet or Get those clothes off, Bennet. I’d never known the Sergeant to swear, but in the heat of the moment I could imagine those gorgeous lips of his mouthing dirty words to me in my mind. Suck my cock, Bennet. Bend over. Come on, now, give it to me.
Giving in, I inched the toy deeper into my ass, settling the vibrations just against the sensitive pleasure-spot inside me. I needed to come—maybe more than I’d ever needed to in my life. My entire body was aching for it, every cell crying out for release.
If thinking about Logan was the only thing that could get me there, then I
’d do it. Logan, with his thick, veiny cock pumping into me. Logan, with his throat across my collar bones, holding my body down so he could fuck me so hard into the mattress that he might as well has been fucking me into the floor. The curve of Logan’s cock, arching gorgeously inside me, plunging beneath my prostate with every thrust inward, his tip sending pangs of pleasure shooting through me as it caught my gland with every withdrawal—
And all the while, Logan’s voice growling oh-so-sweetly in my ear. In that moment, it was so real I could almost hear it. Dark, deep. Erudite, commanding, and dripping with sin. Come, Bennet—come on, come for me, sweetheart. Come. Come. Come!
I let loose like a man unhinged, my ass tightening around the toy in a frantic spasm, my balls tensing as they pumped out every drop of cum I had to spare. I could feel the way the sudden rush of seed made my cock bulge beneath my fingers before it blasted out of my tip, shooting up so hard that the first explosion caught me on the jawline and the second painted my chest. The rest came in a twitching, head-spinning waterfall, gushing down my fingers and pooling at the base of my dick. Turning the soft pubic hair dark and sticky, so soaked I knew I’d need a shower if I wanted to feel clean again.
But even as I breathed out a sigh of release, I knew it would take more than a quick wash to make me feel clean now. Especially after what I’d just imagined—rough, raw, dirty sex with my best friend’s father. This time, when the flush came to my cheeks, it wasn’t my heat. It was embarrassment; that I’d been that desperate. That I hadn’t been able to hold myself back.
Muscles still singing in post-orgasmic delight, I tip-toed my way to the bathroom and turned the faucets onto cold to fill the bath. Between my sweat and cum, I knew a hot shower wouldn’t do. I needed a serious cool-down in the most intense way possible. When the tub was filled, I lowered myself into it, hissing as the cold water sloshed over my skin.
