Page 90 of Mark & Don't Tell

“I—” Quickly glancing around the restaurant, I notice that no one is paying us any mind. As soon as I come, though, my scent will be so heady, we’ll garner plenty of attention. The question is, do I care? It’s not hurting anyone. There are no children here. There are only couples and employees, and it’s not like we’re fucking on the table. No one can even see what he’s doing. The only proof will be my scent, but even then, it could be written off as me being attracted to him.

“Make sure you’re quiet,” he says, already knowing what I’ve decided without me needing to say it.

The torturous device jolts to life. Caressing. Thrumming. Coaxing. My clit throbs. Quivering. Trembling. Pulsing. I hold Lincoln’s gaze, watching him watch me, his eyes hooding the more I writhe. And then I’m there. My legs squeeze together, hard, and I bite down on my cheek, muffling a moan as my hips roll forward into the teaser. It’s the final little push that lights up my body as I shatter into a million little pieces.

Musk and lavender, rich and heady and potent, clouds around me, and Lincoln’s jaw clenches as he inhales, his eyes nearly all black. While his deep, rumbling purr fills the space between us, a lazy smile tugs at my lips as I sag against the back of my seat. The toy switches off, but the hardness of it still presses against my sensitive nerves, a delicious pressure I don’t hate.

If I smoked, that orgasm would definitely be cigarette worthy. Hell, maybe it wasn’t too late to pick up the bad habit.

Chest heaving, I lick my lips and search his face. Fuck the son, I want this alpha so bad. “About what you said before I got in the car?—”

“One day.”

I frown. “Okay.” Is there a reason he doesn’t want to?

“Tonight isn’t about me, bunny,” Lincoln says quickly. “You have no idea how much I want to bury my cock inside of you until you’re trapped by my knot.”

Our waiter appears with a smile on his face. “All right. I have your—oh.” He cuts off, face bright red from whatever he smells and suspects happened. He doesn’t say anything, though, and there are no judging looks as he sets our food down. “I’ll be back in a bit to check on everything.” With that, he scurries away.

“He knows,” I whisper.

“I know.” Linc’s chest puffs with pride. “Everyone here knows exactly how well I take care of my omega.”

My omega.

Fuck, that sounds good.

For tonight, that’s what I’ll be.

His omega.

Reality can wait.

Thirty-One

DARIA

The funny sounds my car makes are obnoxiously loud this morning, or maybe I’m more aware of them as I park behind Vic at his shop. Aside from my questionable transportation, I’m living a dream. Dinner with Lincoln was magical, orgasms included. The way he kissed me good night—like it was the last thing he’d ever do—was almost cruel.

My dreams were filthy, and I woke up so horny, I used the vibrator Quinn raved about. The release it provided was enough that I didn’t attack Vic as soon as he showed up at the little café where we had breakfast.

He hops out of his truck, the dark jeans and expensive black zip-up hoodie almost more attractive than if he were naked. Okay, maybe not, but I like the way he looks when he’s comfortable.

My car clunks again, and he raises his eyebrows at it. I quickly kill the engine and climb out, smiling and ignoring the way I die a little on the inside. He’s glaring at my car like it’s a piece of trash, which is a fair assessment, but it’s all I have.

“Bet you wished you could take Betty for a spin, huh?”

“Betty?” he asks, shaking his head. “Nah, Betty sounds like she’s ready to put out to pasture.”

I pat the hood where the paint isn’t peeling. “Don’t listen to him, Betty. You got this.”

Vic chuckles and grabs my arm, dragging me against his body. “Come here.” Engulfing me in his arms, he drops his nose to my neck, groaning as he takes a lungful of my scent and nips at his choker that I rarely take off. “I missed you.”

Resting my cheek against his chest, I breathe him in. Richly sweet myrrh that blends perfectly with my lavender. “I missed you too.”

He holds me until my heart is full, then clasps his hand around mine and leads me to the shop, unlocking the door long enough for us to get inside before relocking it. “People will walk in if it’s open,” he says when he spots my questioning look.

Rock music is playing through the speakers, and a woman comes out of the bathroom, carrying a watering jug. She’s wearing killer boots, fishnet tights over fraying shorts, and a cute off-the-shoulder sweater. She’s really fucking pretty.

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