Page 120 of Storm
"Is Fox feeling it too?" she murmurs against my skin, her breath warm and her voice taking on the husky quality of heat.
"Yes," I agree, unable to deny the obvious. "Your heat cycles are synchronizing." She pulls back, curiosity brightening her fever-glazed eyes.
"Is that good?" she asks, her tone genuinely intrigued despite the way her body moves, like she's in a daze. "Having two omegas in heat at once?"
"It would be challenging," I admit with a chuckle. "If you didn’t like each other. But the fact you do, it’s going to be very interesting." Her hands leave my hair, trailing down to my shoulders, my chest, her touch exploratory and almost innocent despite our compromising position.
"You smell different today," she observes. "Warmer. Spicier." Her head tilts expectantly, like she’s waiting for a confession.
It’s impossible to hide my reaction to her nearness, the way my body responds to the heat and scent pouring off her. I tighten my grip on her hips, both to hold her steady and to keep myself from losing all semblance of control.
"Is it because of me?" she asks, blinking down at me with those wide, stormy eyes that never fail to undo me. Her words convey a sense of marvel and mischief that makes my heart skip. She shifts again, her movement sending another bolt of heat straight through me.
"Storm," I begin, my voice tight, "with both you and Fox?—"
Her lazy smile returns, and she interrupts with a teasing lilt, "And you thought you could handle two omegas in heat."
"It's the pheromones, they’re messing with me a little." I say, my voice steady despite the effort it takes to maintain my composure under her wandering hands.
Her eyes widen slightly, intrigue mingling with amusement on her face. "Are you going into rut?" There’s a teasing smile.
"No,"I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "Just everything is… heightened." I don’t let on that I’m half out of my mind already, that I’m worried about exactly what she is suggesting. Slipping into rut after days of constant arousal would be more than challenging. Two omegas that haven’t been claimed, pheromones crashing like waves from every corner of the house. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out in this state. I’m surprised that Jonathan hasn’t mentioned anything to me. He takes care of Fox during his heats, so I know this must be affecting him as much as it is me.
The truth is,there is no bonding claim with Fox, and this has made everything that much more intense. We couldn’t with my fathers so close by. They would have scented it immediately. So here we are, all of us raw and unbound, and I know this will be an epic heat for us all.
Storm shifts again,and I catch the way her breath hitches, the small sound of discomfort escaping as another pre-heat cramp makes her tense against me. My hands move instinctively to her lower back, applying a firm but gentle pressure where I can feel the pain seems centered beneath the heat of my fingers.
"Better?"I ask, feeling her relax slightly under my touch.
"Mm,"she hums, her voice a throaty purr that travels straight through me. Then she looks up through her lashes, mischief dancing in her stormy gaze. "But I know something that would help more."
Before I can ask what she means, she rolls her hips deliberately against mine. The friction draws a startled groan from me. Her smile turns triumphant at the sound.
"Storm," I warn, my deep and rough. I grit my teeth, struggling against instincts that scream to take her and knot her here. Claim her.
"I want you, Alex." Her words are a plea filled with heat. "Your scent, your touch. It helps with the cramps."
The rawness in her voice and the way her eyes fix on mine stir a fierce protectiveness in me, mingled with the desire that rages just beneath the surface. I swallow hard, knowing I am on the edge of giving her exactly what she's asking for and tipping over into a rut.
"We have to be careful," I say, though even I can hear the strain and reluctance in my voice. It's a weak protest, overpowered by the way my hands have a mind of their own. They slip beneath the hem of her t-shirt, gliding over the warm skin of her back. I hear her soft intake of breath and feel her arch against me.
"Elena could walk in anytime," I attempt again, though now my touch is sure and possessive, spanning her waist then tracing up her spine. Anywhere she needs me, anywhere she wants.
Storm shakes her head, her wild auburn curls brushing soft as feathers against my face. The sensation sends a shiver through me and I clutch her tighter, feeling my resolve weaken with every heartbeat.
"She's been spending more time at her cabin," she argues, her determination as vivid as the auburn curls that tumble around us both. "Fox told me she always retreats there when heats are coming. She’s giving us privacy."
It's true. Elena makes herself scarce, respecting the pack's need for space and privacy during heat. Still, the living room isn't exactly the most private location in the house to be knot deep in her.
As if reading my thoughts, Storm leans in, her body pressing closer, her lips brushing against my ear. The contact is electric, sending a jolt straight through me. "Just your hands," she whispers, her breath warm and her voice soft but firm. "Please, Alex. I need some relief."
The plea in her voice stirs me, breaking down the last of my resistance. I've never been able to deny an omega who needs me, and it goes against everything in my nature as an alpha to even attempt it. And Storm, with her fiercely defiant independence, so rarely asks for help, let alone in a way so open and raw.
"Okay, Storm," I finally relent, my words rough with surrender. My hands slide from her back to her hips, bracing her for what’s coming, preparing myself too.
I feel her body relax slightly, relief mingling with anticipation in her fevered expression. Her response is eager, insistent, and I guide her to shift, adjusting our position carefully so that she is more securely in my lap. Her back meets my chest, and I trap her against me with my arms enveloping her, feeling her so close and so real. This way, I can hold her tight and still give her what she needs, give us both what we want.
With a renewed sense of purpose, my hands slip beneath the oversized t-shirt, skimming possessively across the soft skin of her stomach before venturing higher. Her breath catches as I cup her breasts, and a nearly feral sound escapes me at the way she arches into my touch. I take my time teasing her, my thumbs brushing across the tight peaks of her nipples.
