Page 42 of Outback Mate
Despite his rejection in the clinic, my Alpha still wants me. He can deny it all he likes, but he can’t say I don’t make him breathless.
“Poppy,” he growls in a low warning tone, the sound rolling around his tongue. I shiver pleasantly. “I know what you’re doing, and stop it.”
“What am I doing, Alpha?” I ask innocently, and give him my most wide-eyed expression, lifting my hips slightly so my fingers can reach their target.
I gasp loudly at the first touch to my swollen pussy. It’s messy with a mix of his seed and my slick still steadily leaking out of me.
My scent is playing havoc with his control. The evidence of his struggle is the hardening length straining against his zipper. He’s breathing heavily, with a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
He wants me just as much as I want him. We’re both going to get used to this feeling. It’s a fact of nature that he needs to accept.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns again.
I roll my hips, working my fingers between my lips in slow circles. I know exactly what I’m doing and where to press. I fix my eyes on the bulge in his pants. The material is pulled so tight I can see every line and ridge of his thick Alpha cock.
It makes my mouth water. I want him. I want to know what his cock tastes like. How it feels when my Alpha comes in my mouth.
“Omega, stop it right now,” he yells, and slaps his palm against the steering wheel.
Oh, well, that’s a fiery reaction. I certainly can’t stop now.
“I can’t drive if you’re doing that. Not in a damn storm.”
The ute is still idling in the middle of the road, the headlights disappearing into the haze of rain. He said that the patient still has a few hours before he’s needed, so I don’t feel too guilty about delaying the good doctor.
This feels like the right thing to do.
I want to push him. I want him to break again.
He grinds his jaw, and his lips pull back in a snarl. “I’m made of ice, but even I can’t be expected to focus with you doing… that.”
That makes my hand still.
Made of ice? What?
He thinks he’s cold?
I thought the same when we first met, but now I know the real man behind his grumpy shield. The idea he thinks of himself that way makes my heart ache for him.
He thinks he’s frozen? That his aura sickness makes him numb? I feel a deep need to prove to him what I know is true. His ice melts at my touch.
I tug my seat belt until it gives me some slack, and I lean over the console.
“Hey… Poppy, what are you doing?”
“Proving you wrong.”
“Prove what– fuck!”
I lick the damp spot on the crotch of his pants. It’s from where he’s been leaking pre-come into the material, and the tangy musk makes me purr with satisfaction.
“Omega!”
I reach for him. My fingers brush along the ridge of his cock through his underwear, and it’s so hard it probably hurts. He doesn’t stop me. Instead, his thighs widen to accommodate my touch.
My Alpha isn’t made of ice. He’s warm, and he wants this. I know it. I can feel it in how his hips rise, pressing into my palm, chasing the sensation. He may be pretending to fight, but I know that somewhere under his self-hatred, he needs me just as much as I need him.
My mouth is watering, so I push my hand into his trousers to pull his cock and balls out over the waistband. His member bobs in the air, red and angry, and he gives a deep groan of relief. The flesh in my palm is silky and smooth, and the musk of his pheromones makes me want to rub my face all over it. I take him in both hands, stroking the length as the foreskin retracts from his pink tip and his breathing is shaky.
