Page 39 of Heat Clinic

“Me too. Are you done with London for now?” My hope is that he doesn’t need to return to finish his time at the gallery. It would be nice to take everyone home and get settled. My pack.

“I can be. Alicia can run everything better than I can.” He pouts a little.

“Thatiswhy you hired her.”

“I know. But I feel useless sometimes. She’s so much better at the business side of things than I will ever be.”

No doubt it’s his father’s nagging voice in his head causing this. The man’s been dead a decade, yet he still leaves wreckage in his wake. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re the one taking the photographs.”

He snorts. “You would like anything I made, even if it wasn’t good.”

“That’s true. You could start doing stick figure crayon drawings and I’d be impressed.”

He slaps my chest. “Rude.”

I laugh and haul him closer so he’s half-lying on me. “Watch your movie, brat.”

We fall asleep before we see the end, and Tom wakes me up with room service. The beta room attendant wheels a cart inside and puts a tablecloth down on the table with a bud vase and a rose. It’s the smell of coffee that finally lures me out of the comforts of our bed.

He’s studying the paper as he eats. “A word that means the same thing if cap- is added to the front of it.”

I take a sip of coffee and rub the sleep from my eyes. “How many letters?”

“Four.”

It takes me a moment, but then I have it. “Able.” Tom makes a noise in the back of his throat and writes it in. “You’re using a pen?” I ask.

“There’s no pencil.” He waits a beat, then looks at me over the edge of his paper. “Why?”

I know a trap when I hear one. I take a longer sip of coffee and throw a triangle of toast on my plate from the basket. “No reason. Just making an observation.”

His eyes narrow, and he makes a show of clicking the pen and scribbling in his answer. I’m going to pay for that careless remark later. And then he’ll pay for being a brat. Rinse and repeat. I take another sip of slightly too hot coffee to hide my growing smile.

ChapterTen

EMILY

Everything hurtsas Sam helps me climb onto the padded reclined chair. He puts my arms down at my sides and fastens leather cuffs around my wrists. When he bends my legs up and sets them into stirrups, fastening those down too, I want to sob with relief. It’ll be over soon. This unending, world-consuming need to fuck is exhausting. My heat has me so scattered and horny that Sam, for all that he’s tried, can’t meet its bottomless demands, although he makes a solid effort. Boy, did he try.

The first nudge of the silicone dildo at my entrance makes me writhe with the urge to reach down and pull it in. Anything to feel less empty. Hollow. Needy.

But the restraints keep me from doing anything but lying here and taking it, sweating and panting and crying as he gets the fucking machine into place between my legs and adjusts the angle.

I need it, I need it, need—

The machine whirs to life and makes its first rotation, the dildo pressing into me with a brief moment of white hot bliss. And then it retreats and I sob. It pierces me again, filling me up and satisfying the worst of my body’s incessant demands as it fucks me, its motors making more and more noise. Faster. Deeper. Sam cranks up the dial until I go limp with relief against the padded chair.

It’s not as good as being fucked in your nest by your pack. My body knows this on an instinctual level. But it satisfies enough of my omega cravings that I can stop crying and whining.

Sam kneels beside me and turns my head to the side so he can kiss me, his lips sweet and claiming. He touches me all over, weighing the heft of each breast and pinching and tugging each nipple. His hand drifts down my belly, which heaves against his palm with the way I’m breathing.

When he slides his fingers through my damp curls and caresses my clit, I’m lost. I come from just that brush, my whole body trembling as the fucking machine makes a terrible noise, its movements slowing as my cunt flutters and tries to milk a knot that’s not there from a toy that can’t come.

The moment I relax, it starts again, and I jerk in my restraints. The pressure builds in my pelvis, another orgasm already half-formed even though I’ve barely come down from the first. It goes on for what feels like forever. And then Sam leaves me.

The door opens and there’s talking, but it barely registers because I’m so consumed by the fire between my legs that isn’t being quenched. I need a knot. I need cum. I need to be bred. The fucking machine slows if I wiggle too much, only starting again once I’m still. It’s cruel.

That now familiar scent of cardamom and spice and cream makes my mouth water and slick run down my ass crack. I whine.

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