Page 20 of Real

Buddy may be made of plastic, but he’s tough as nails.

9

Buddy

H is quiet while he drives, but it’s not a calm quiet like this morning. His fingers are clutching the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

I think that phone call was more than an invitation to see Candlewick. Was it related to me, or is there something else going on at the sanctuary? I wish I knew.

I reach out tentatively and put my hand on his knee, the way he does sometimes for me. He jerks his head in my direction, surprised.

“Sorry,” I mutter, withdrawing. I don’t know what I was thinking. He doesn’t want comfort from me. He doesn’t even know me.

He grasps my hand and brings it back to his knee. I glance up at his pretty eyes. There’s no annoyance or anger there, just kindness. It makes me want to melt into him and rest my head on his shoulder.

I wonder what it felt like for those omegas who got to be with him during their heats. I’m sure he took good care of them. He probably comforted them and said sweet things to them while they writhed in agony. Or maybe they didn’t feel agony at all because he filled them so well.

Why do I keep on thinking about things like that?

“How far away is the jail?” I ask, glancing at the clock. It’s only half past three. It’s winter, and the sunset will come pretty early, but I still can’t blame my fixation with H on my longing. It shouldn’t start for at least two more hours.

“About forty minutes,” H says.

That’s cutting it close. What if my heat starts on the way home? Then H would find out how bad I smell. He might even end up trapped inside the car with my stench.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go.” After all, if H is just going to give Candlewick my message, he could do that over the phone, right?

“We need to. Is everything okay? Do you need to go to the bathroom or…” he trails off. “Your heat starts at sunset. What time is sunset tonight?”

“About two hours.”

He swears under his breath. “Maybe we can stop at a motel or something. We can find someplace in town to buy a knotting dildo too. I’m sorry. I should have thought of that earlier. I’ll make my visit with Candlewick quick, okay?”

Candlewick’s talked about knotting dildos before. He even asked if I wanted one, but I don’t.

“That’s okay. I don’t need a dildo. Just a closet or a small space,” I say.

“Are you sure? Is there some other toy you’d find more satisfying?”

I shake my head. “Sex toys aren’t satisfying. They’re just silicone and plastic.”

Silicone and plastic are worthless.

H turns his focus toward the road. “Okay, but for what it’s worth, I think plastic can feel good sometimes.”

I glance at him quickly just to make sure he isn’t joking around. His expression is serious. Does that mean H likes plastic sex toys? I can’t ask him that, can I? It would be too personal.

Besides, just because he likes a fleshlight doesn’t mean he’d want something like me. I’m worse than a sex toy. I smell bad, and I’m shaped all wrong. Dorian made that very clear.

But what about my mouth or my hands? People have sex with those, don’t they?

I need to stop thinking about this. H would never have sex with me.

“What kind of plastic feels good?” I ask, even though I shouldn’t.

I only have a few hours before I have to go back to Dorian.

H opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “I just meant… I’m sorry.”

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