Page 7 of Alphabets & Omegas
Despite her sweet scent, she isn’t a fan of dessert or sweet treats. She has a particular dislike of gummy bears, but keeps them in her top drawer in case a child’s blood sugar levels drop too low. I also caught her frowning subtly whenever the teacher from the classroom across the hall walks past, and I find it amusing that my little ray of sunshine can hold such disdain.
I make myself useful, offering to string up tinsel to the already cluttered classroom walls. I hang pictures of Santa Claws and wrestle the blow up Rudolph from the clutches of the pups who succumb to their predator instincts to hunt the unsuspecting reindeer. I greedily soak up every morsel of information I can gather. I can admit I’m obsessed and, yes, even a bit of a creep.
Last week, when she turned to greet another parent, I surreptitiously plucked her mustard colored scarf off the back of her chair and slipped it inside my jacket. It’s now under my pillow at home and has the starring role in my spank sessions. And there are a lot of those sessions happening. My bodyknowsour Omega is near, and it’s in overdrive. Staying hydrated has become an ongoing battle.
I weave tidbits about myself into our conversations, hoping something will convince her to accept my invitation to go on a date. I tell her I own a garage that restores old cars and that it’s often booked out a year in advance. My taxes to the Pack are all paid in full, and I donate regularly to the upkeep of the Pack’sforest. I mention in passing that I play drums in a band, studying her reaction to see if that piece of information twigs her interest. All she does is smile and nods kindly, like she’s humoring one of her students when they tell one of their never-ending stories.
The challenge with chatting up an Omega in a room full of pups is I can’t use any of the classic Alpha moves. If we’d met in a bar, I would’ve subtly run my fingers up her arm so she could feel my warmth before leaning in close to whisper praise and sexual innuendos, letting my lips brush the shell of her ear. I’d let my scent surge and overwhelm her until she’s high on me. Instead, I show Nevaeh I’m the perfect Alpha for her in creative ways. She’s making it tough by keeping up a wall of professionalism, but I’m up for the challenge. I don’t think I’ve ever been more charming in my whole life, and I still haven’t even got her phone number.
Weeks pass and the festive spirit in Miss Shields classroom grows with each passing day. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, it’s hard not to feel discouraged, especially when all I want this holiday season is my sweet Omega snuggled up next to me while we open presents beside the Christmas tree.
This morning, I notice she’s lined each child’s chair with a monogrammed stocking. Knowing her love for crafts, I bet she spent hours making each stocking.
“Season’s greetings, Miss Shields!” I call out as we enter the classroom. She glances up from her desk and smiles warmly. Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, hoping for any sign of affection from the aloof Omega, and I swear her breath hitches slightly when she sees that it’s me. My chest aches, and I focus intently on removing Oscar’s winter coat and hanging it on the peg with his name above it.
I need her to give me some kind of sign she wants this, too. I don’t know how much longer I can be in her presence without touching her. My self-control has never been so tested.
“Hi, Miss Shields!” Oscar says as he bounds over to his teacher, waving wildly. “It’s Friday and I wrote my letter to Santa Claws yesterday and it’s snowing outside!”
“I’m very impressed. Did you write it all by yourself?” Nevaeh asks, standing up and smoothing down her pink and white dotted skirt. Oscar nods vigorously while I shake my head behind him. His mom wrote the letter while the little squirt signed his name at the bottom and drew a squiggly picture of a motorcycle.
She wets her lips, and I watch the pink tip of her tongue with predatory focus. “And how are you both doing this morning?”
“I’m good,” Oscar says while bouncing on the balls of his feet. “But Uncle Casey told my mom that if he doesn’t get to kiss you soon, he’s gonna go crazy.”
My eyes just about bug out of my head. I’m going to have to have a word with Mike about teaching his kid the rule about snitches and stitches.
I knock the side of my leather boot against his light-up sneakers and fake whisper down to the boy, “Dude, be cool.”
“What?” Oscar blinks up at me. “That’s what you said. Mom wanted to know how much longer you were going to walk me to school, and you said until either Miss Shields kisses you or you go crazy.”
I know my mouth is hanging open. I’m left lost for words. What exactly do I say to that? She’s going to think I’m a soft idiot for moping about her like a lovelorn teenage girl.
Nevaeh’s lips twitch like she’s trying to hold back laughter, her eyes crinkling adorably.
“Oscar, why don’t you take your seat? I’m going to talk to your Uncle Casey outside for a moment,” she says indulgently to Oscar, and points towards his desk.
“Okay, Miss Shields,” Oscar says, putting his backpack down and pulling out his crayons to draw.
Nevaeh calls to her teacher’s assistant to watch the class before walking out of the room. I follow like a puppy. Truth be told, at this point I’d follow her anywhere. She has me wrapped around her finger.
I settle against the corridor wall, propping my foot up and crossing my arms.
“This reminds me of my school years. Being sent out of class by the teacher was basically my signature move.”
She quirks an eyebrow and purses her lips together to smother an amused grin. “And what have you done this time to be escorted out? Have you done something naughty?”
Shehasto hear how that sounds. My cock throbs hopelessly.
“Do impure thoughts count?” I offer with a wicked grin.
Her attempts to hide her mirth fail, and her pretty rosebud lips stretch into a blinding smile. It transforms her innocent looking features into something a little more sensual, and I make a vow to draw out that high-watt smile as often as possible.
She laughs, shaking her head at me, and her cheeks flush a gorgeous light pink. She looks down at her shoes, and I realize she’s flustered.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” she sighs, looking up at me through her eyelashes. “What am I going to do with you, Mr. Frazer?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Omega. I have enough ideas for the both of us.” I don’t mean for my voice to drop so low or for a growl to punctuate my words, but it happens, and she responds so perfectly.
