Page 23 of Real

Cold shame washes over me as I realize that these are probably the words Dorian enchanted Buddy to say to him. This is what the asshole wanted—for Buddy to beg for him every night. And here I am, wanting the exact same thing.

I really am as bad as Dorian.

“I don’t want to pretend you’re someone else,” I tell Buddy.

He lets out a breathy sob. “I said the wrong thing. I’m sorry. Please don’t stop.”

How many years has he begged for Dorian, only to be rebuffed? He said he had sex with Dorian during their first month together. That means he hasn’t been satisfied by an alpha during his heat for almost twenty years. Wouldn’t pleasing him be better than pushing him away when he’s so desperate for affection?

I lower my mouth to the crook of his neck and suck hard. He groans and I can smell the gush of his slick. He wants this.

Or his heat wants this, and I’m a lech. Either way.

I try to think back on what Buddy said he yearned for during his heat. Fox shifters have den heats, so he probably wanted to nest earlier. He just curled into a ball. Poor guy. Buddy also said he wanted an alpha to hold him and tell him… What was it?

That he smelled good.

“I love the way you smell, Buddy.” It’s true. He smells like heaven.

He clutches me tighter. “Oh, thank you. Thank you.”

“I think you’re beautiful. You have no idea how much I want you.” I should stop. He’ll likely remember everything I say later on, but once I start talking, I can’t get myself to shut up. “I thought you were sexy as hell in those new clothes. I wish you were mine, baby. If you were, I’d cherish you. I’d do everything I could to make you happy. I’d satisfy you every night, I swear.”

I inch my fingers underneath the jeans I purchased for him earlier and feel the lace of the underwear he insisted on. I want to see how the light pink lace looks on his beautiful skin. But this isn’t about what I want.

“You’re perfect, baby. Absolutely perfect.” I slip my finger under the soft lace and in between his ass cheeks where he’s sopping wet. “Oh, you feel so good.”

He trembles again, and it makes me want to hold him closer. Keep him safe. Protect him from the world.

“If you were mine, I’d knot you, baby. Fill you with my pups.”

Buddy wriggles against me, the heat of his cock burning against my belly under his jeans. “Please. Oh, please.”

“Unbutton your jeans for me, okay?” I say, grabbing his ass and pulling him onto my lap. The front seat can slide back a few inches. I push it back as far as possible while Buddy frantically unbuttons his jeans and unzips his fly.

I slide my hand down the back of his jeans again between his asscheeks. This time, I slip a finger inside.

He takes in a sharp breath. “Oh, H. Please.”

“Timothy,” I whisper. “Call me Timothy.”

After we left the breeding pits, the five alphas I escaped with all took new names: Timber, Steppe, Manitoba, Kenai, and Hokkaido. Or Hokkaido is the name Steppe chose for me. I shortened it to H because it didn’t matter. They said we were starting new lives because the compounds where we grew up wouldn’t take us back. They said we’d form a pack of our own.

But none of us could bond with a mate. I knew a pack like that wasn’t a pack at all; it was just a lonely group of alphas who would spend the rest of their lives alone.

Timothy was my name before. Back when I tried to woo the omegas on our compound. Back when I still had the ability to bond to a mate. What am I doing giving Buddy that name? Do I think it will magically take me back to a time when I could have claimed him? Even then, I wasn’t the kind of alpha Buddy would want unless he was in heat.

“Timothy,” Buddy whispers. “Take me, Timothy.”

I kiss him as I slide in another finger. His wet heat is tight and smooth. He said he was shaped wrong, but he isn’t.

“Dorian was lying, baby. Your ass feels perfect. So tight, so wet. You’re everything an alpha could want.”

He leans his whole body against me, clutching at my shirt again. The action is almost violent like he’s trying to get as close to me as he can. He rocks his hips against my fingers. I add a third, and it’s a little tight. The whole situation is awkward. He still has his jeans on and we’re in the front seat of a car. Hell, there’s probably a security camera catching this somewhere. But there are legal exceptions for unexpected heats, and I’m doing my best to keep it discreet.

But I couldn’t stop even if a guard knocked on the glass.

“I want you to come on my fingers.”

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