Page 77 of Altius
Closing the door, I turned to face the living room and exhaled, fending off the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me—grateful, nervous, and horny, all at once.
It was too soon to get sloppy. Cal hadn’t even given me the injection yet. Speaking of… I checked my phone.
Four minutes to six. Perfect.
I found him in my bathroom, where he was in the middle of setting up a makeshift medical station. A portion of his travel supply bag and an assortment of blood-testing gadgets covered one end of the vanity. He’d already placed the container of vials in the kitchen fridge.
All except one.
Hopping up on a clear bit of counter, I knocked my knee against his leg, then rolled up my sleeve.
“Ready when you are, Dr. Carling.”
***
The dark, covetous corner where greed intersects torture is where you’d find me, straddling one of Cal’s thick thighs in my nest.
I nipped and sucked at his tongue, seeking out more of his pheromones, always more, because I was drunk off his scent and touch, convinced I couldn’t survive without the constant pressure of his lubed fingertips brushing against my most sensitive spots, prompting showers of rapturous sparks.
“I’ve got you,” Cal whispered against my sweaty cheek, knocking his glasses askew, “just a little more.”
“No, I want—”
Whatever I’d expected from the chemical induction, it wasn’t this, a needy mewling approximation of my usual intellect. A baser creature who wouldn’t stop palming his cock and swelling knot through his sweatpants. Furious that the pheromone stud was still fully clothed.
“Give me more. Hurry up.”
“This is just the warm-up, sweetheart. Remember?”
“Yeah, but that wasthen,” I said, grinding against his leg. “This is now—and I want younow.”
As I leaned in, desperate for more of his pheromones, Cal gently bracketed his left hand around the base of my neck. He prevented me from reaching his throat or mouth, cutting off my pheromone supply.
“Who do you want?” he countered. “Joaquin, Alijah, or Wyatt?”
Wyatt.
A rush of dopamine brought forth a needy whine and a sharp cramp, which grew increasingly stronger the more I pawed at Cal’s shirt and waistband—as if undressing him would somehow reveal he was two Wyatts stacked on top of each other.
Wait.
Thatwas weird. Really fucking weird.
Hit by sudden clarity, I sat back on my heels. The shot didn’t just lower my inhibitions. It also made me a bit loopy. And more than a little stupid.
Cal’s left hand shifted, cupping my chin while he angled my head toward the single light not dimmed to twilight levels, checking the reactivity of my pupils.
Then he straightened his glasses and looked at his watch on the opposite wrist, fingers still glistening with my arousal. “Thirteen minutes this time. Was that wave better or worse?”
“I don’t know… It was more—justmore, but I’m not sure of what, exactly.”
Reaching into our nearby basket of supplies, Cal picked up a digital thermometer, the sexiest of all bedroom accessories, and took a quick reading. “Temp increasing as expected.”
After putting it back, he began licking the fingers of his right hand clean, nostrils flaring in appreciation for the potent orchid scent I couldn’t smell.
“And you’re producing slick. Not much, but it’s there. All positive indicators.”
Dropping onto the mound of pillows by his side, I nudged his calf with my foot. “What else? Nothing gets me going like when you talk clinical to me.”
