Page 75 of Craving Their Omega

“Do you need anything else before we head out?” Xavier asks, and I refocus on him.

I shake my head. “I think I’ll be okay. Are you sure you don’t need me to come into the office?”

Dominic gives Xavier a look that clearly says ‘reason with her’, and Xavier puts his hands on his hips. “I know Dom’s already told you this, but we’ll be fine without you for one day. Just focus on getting better. For us. Please.”

“Okay,” I mumble, trying not to blush at the way he said that. It’s easier said than done.

“Call if you need anything, little bird,” Dominic tells me.

“Yeah. Even if it’s just another soup delivery,” Xavier agrees.

He leans over to tuck me in better and then the three of them withdraw, heading off to work.

The house is quiet with all three of them gone, and I lie there, soaking in the silence. It’s weird, being here without them. Usually at least one of them is here, and just knowing there’s another presence in the house does something to make it feel less looming and empty.

I push myself up onto my elbows after a while, enough to reach for the thermos of tea and try a tentative sip. It’s still hot enough that it burns my tongue a little, but after blowing on it and letting it cool in the air, I manage to gulp down a mouthful or two.

I can taste the lemon ginger blend I bought myself, and I smile when I realized it’s sweetened perfectly with honey. Like Dominic was watching all the times I made it for myself. Usually that would make me feel better, knowing he was so considerate and observant, but now I just feel foggy and unfocused.

I feel too restless to sleep, so I grab the book and open it to the last place I was reading. I’ve been impressed with theway it manages to explain a lot of ideas about business that might be hard to understand in a way that’s easier to digest, but trying to read it now just feels like forcing my brain to move through molasses. Every word just gets stuck before I can retain anything, and that restless feeling just grows under my skin.

Finally I give up, putting the book down with a huff. I consider going downstairs to watch a movie on the massive TV in the living room, but the thought of moving makes my already achy limbs feel worse.

So I end up just lying in bed, feeling useless and tired but like I can’t fall asleep. After a while, the covers start to feel heavy and suffocating. Heat climbs up my body, making everything hurt more. I kick my way out from under everything, but even the cooler air on my skin doesn’t do anything to lessen the heat pressing down on me.

Every part of me feels heavy, and when I move, there’s a slow quality to it. The more I lie there, the worse I feel, and it hits me all of a sudden that this… is probably not the flu. It came on way too quickly for one, and I’ve had fevers before from the flu, but they’ve never felt so hot like this. It’s never been this intense, all-consumingheat.

And that’s the operative word isn’t it?

With a soft gasp I realize that I’m not actually sick.

I’m in heat.

I groan because it’s like that revelation has opened the floodgates in my body. My lower half throbs with need, and my head swims, focused only on one thing. It’s a burning feeling, making me clench around nothing, and now that my brain is fixated on what I need for this, it wants it with a passion.

“Okay,” I mumble under my breath. “Okay, okay. I can handle this. I can?—”

I force myself up and out of bed, stumbling over to the drawer where the items Tristan mentioned getting are allstashed. Surely something in there will do something to relieve this pressure. This terrible discomfort.

I grab the first thing I find, a vibrator with a bulbous head that’s clearly not meant to go inside me, and I go back to bed with it.

When I shuck myself out of my shorts and panties, I’m already soaking wet. My core aches, like it knows it’s about to get something close to relief, and as soon as I touch myself down there, the heat flares higher.

It’s like being caught in an inferno, and I gasp out loud, arching against my own hand. It comes away wet and sticky, and I wrap the other hand around the vibrator, pressing it between my legs and turning it on.

It starts on the lowest setting, a small rumble that ordinarily would probably send a thrill up my spine. Now it’s nothing close to being enough, and I flick through the settings until it’s on full speed, the buzz echoing in the bedroom.

I grind on the silicone covered head, pressing the vibrations against my sensitive flesh. It feels good, I can admit that. The vibrations send the pleasure arcing higher, and when I move my hips, the sparks of sensation make me moan out loud.

But it’s notenough.

No matter how I chase that feeling, no matter how hard or fast I grind on the toy, the crest of orgasm is just out of my reach.

Frustrated, I shove two fingers into myself, surprised when the slickness manages to make it completely easy for me to fill myself up.

That’s a little bit better, but it’s even more maddening.

I hump my hand desperately, whining in the back of my throat, but it’s like having an itch that needs scratching and only being able to scratch near it. So close to relief, but not close enough to do anything useful about the problem.

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