Page 29 of Small Town Shy Omega
If my heat-snap was already here.
“You know what, Layla?” Blake snarled, looking straight past me. Like he didn't see me… like I didn't even exist. “You do what you have to do, okay? Jesus, fuck.”
That night,I went to Dreydon.
He was asleep, his door slightly cracked.
I crept into his room, and while the tattooed Alpha snored, I rested my head on his chest.
He growled, fingers wrapping around me. And though he didn't wake, he grabbed me.
Pressed me to his chest, holding me tight.
I felt so… vulnerable in that moment, so liable to crack. Any wrong move and Dreydon would break me.
In the middle of the night, the great beast awoke.
Dreydon peered down at me… and I leaned up, and I kissed him.
We were hot, the window was shut, and I cupped his beastly cheeks.Better in the dark,I thought, rubbing my body on his.
Rub, rub—and an excitement filled me.
“Dreydon,” I whispered, torturous agony cycling through my being. “I hurt, Dreydon. Need your… scent.”
“Layla?” he growled, and I could tell he was so sleepy he didn't know whether he was dreaming.
I moaned, canting my hips on his… and I felt my night slip pull up, and my bareness was pressed against the bulge in his briefs.
“Feel it,” I whispered, rubbing, just rubbing. “Please, I can take it. Ready.”
“You ready, Layla?”
“No,” I peeped, knowing I was only playing a game. I wasnotready: I was a twenty-seven-year-old Omega who’d been through heats before, but not like this.
Never like this, with Alphas who respected me, did my laundry, did shit for me, served me, called me a queen.
They called me a queen,I thought and then I was on Dreydon. I was just rubbing my hips on his, moaning. Moaning as I rubbed against the beastly man I never would’ve glanced at, who I would’ve run from in the street.
In a romance novel, I would’ve swooned over Dreydon—even though he wasn’t the shy, poetic type I usually went for.
In real life? The tall, tattooed ex-military Alpha scared me.
He was scary, brusque, and everything my Omega didn't purr for.
Only… in Dreydon’s case, she did.
For some inexplicable, godforsaken reason, my Omega went crazy around Dreydon.
I latched around him, moaning as I peered at his beastly face.
I put a blanket over his eyes, then just rode him.
Rode the man, the great man covered in tattoos, who could hurt me so badly if he tried. And even if he didn’t.
I latched on his waist, inhaling the deep espresso scent wafting from the Alpha. A cloud of delicious espresso wafted around him, and I knew his suppressants were growing weaker.
I rode Dreydon, and even without entering me, eventually he came. Sneaking off his lap, I stole his blanket.
