Page 59 of Craving Their Omega

“Please,” Penelope whimpers, her voice wrecked sounding even though the wall. “I need?—”

Whatever she needs never gets said, the sentence cut off by a desperate, ragged moan.

I close my eyes and drag in a deep breath, leaning against the wall that separates our rooms. Her bed must be against this wall to let me hear her so clearly, and I want to curse the circumstance that led to it. But not enough to make me move away from the wall or stop listening.

In fact, I put my ear to the wall to hear better.

Fuck.

It’s like an addiction, this instinct to be closer to her, to hear every single one of the needy little noises she makes. She’s so damned expressive, not holding anything back, and I can imagine the way she’d look with each sound.

Her face flushed, her brows drawn down, her soft, supple lips parted. She’d close her eyes on the moans, but the whimpers would have them open, need shining clearly in the mismatched depths.

Xavier’s voice cuts in sometimes, deep and smooth. It’s muffled enough that I know he’s not near the wall, and I can’t make out everything he says.

I shouldn’t be jealous.

I shouldn’t feel anything about the fact that he’s in there with her, getting to see everything and hear each sweet noise up close. But… I do. There’s jealousy curling sourly in the pit of my stomach, even though I wish there wasn’t. I don’t want these feelings. I don’t want to wish I was in there with Penelope instead of Xavier. Especially when I know that can never happen.

Penelope’s whimpers take on a more feverish pitch, and from the way she’s panting I can tell she’s going to come again.

My cock throbs in my pants, so fucking hard and eager. It would be so easy to just push my pants down and get a hand around myself. At least that would take the edge off this shit. But I don’t do it. I grit my teeth instead, fighting back the urge.

I don’t want to want her like this, and I’m damned sure not giving into it.

I keep telling myself that, trying to hold on to my convictions and every reason I have to not want this. To want to keep my distance from her.

But the louder she gets, the harder it is to keep all that in my grasp. The steady buzz of arousal under my skin is stronger than anything else, and a sharp cry from Penelope makes a drip of precum slide out of my cock.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I close my eyes and try to focus on my breathing. What I should really do is get away from the damned wall. I should put on headphones or go out or do anything other than stand here listening to this, but I’m rooted to the spot. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to, and no matter how much I tell myself that I do want to and I should go, I can’t make it happen.

I keep standing there, listening to Xavier’s muffled voice and the increasing frequency of the noises Penelope is making.

It reaches a fever pitch at one point, every sound she makes sounding pleading, like she’s right there, close to the edge.

My body responds, heat and need humming through me. I haven’t even touched myself, but apparently that doesn’t fucking matter. My cock aches, and when I shift positions, just the grind of my clothes against the sensitive flesh is enough to send goosebumps racing over my skin.

“Oh!” Penelope cries. “Oh my god, I’m?—”

I don’t need her to finish the sentence. The moan that comes afterward is enough to paint the picture of her coming undone.

I don’t know what she looks like right now, spread out in her bed, but I have the mental image of her from downstairs earlier. In Dominic’s lap, her lips parted around her sweet cries, her face flushes, her hair wild.

My cock responds immediately to her moans, pulsing once, twice—and then, to my fucking embarrassment, I come right in my pants. Just from listening to her. Just from picturing her in the state of wild abandon.

The aftershocks work through me and I shudder, dragging a hand down my face. I’m left sticky and breathing hard, not quite believing what just happened.

I didn’t even touch her. Didn’t even touch myself, and yet I just came like a teenager in my pants. It’s fucking shameful. I’m supposed to be better than this.

In the privacy of this room where no one will ever know, I can admit that this is a problem.

Since the moment we agreed to this arrangement, I’ve been trying to keep walls up between us. To keep my distance as best I can and not let myself get too involved or attached. But it’s not working. No amount of distance can help me be less drawn to her, apparently.

Even in the office, where it should be easy to stay away, I can’t do it. Knowing she’s there, just across the way, going about her business, makes me feel crazy, and I’ve been shifting my schedule secretly so it matches up with hers. Just so I can spend more time around her.

When it came to picking out which office we were going to give her, there were plenty to choose from, but I suggested the one next to mine, and neither of the others argued with it.

It’s mostly just glimpses, since I go out of my way not to talk to her, but even that’s a problem. Because I make sure to pass by when she’s getting coffee or going to the copy machine or just standing in the hall talking with other assistants. There’s something that makes me almost desperate for her to look at me, to the point where it feels like I can’t take a full breath until she does. Until her eyes slide to me and that shy little smile spreads across her face.

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