Page 65 of Thorns That Bloom
I gulp down the saliva pooling inside my mouth. My insides twist strangely, like they know something my mind yet doesn’t. Theo’s low, muffled breaths nearly match the beating of my heart. As I run my hand over the changing table dresser in front of me, my head slowly catches up with my body.
His rut hitting him hard. His body growing warm and uncomfortable and tight—I know what that means.
A wave of buzzing discomfort passes through me before something else takes a grip of me. Parting my lips with my tongue, I wet them and swallow again. “Are you… What are you doing right now?” I ask, letting my chest fall all the way down.
“This is why I wanted to wait before…getting back to you,” he whispers, hissing out a tight breath.
I begin picturing what I would be faced with if we weren’t on the phone. Is he in his room? On his bed? Is he stripped down to his boxers, or still trying to feel normal and push through in comfortable homey clothes like I used to so many times?
“Answer me, Theo…”
I don’t know why I said that.
I’m playing with fire. Playing with my stupid, fragile psyche, asking an alpha in rut this question. Not just an alpha in rut—it’sTheo. Which is why I’m asking and not feeling as terrified by the idea. By the reality of what might be happening somewhere across town right now.
He lets out this choked, uneasy sound. “I’m just l-losing my mind here. Or maybe I’m dreaming. I’m…I’m really glad you’re not here to see me like this,” he says, something between achuckle and a desperate snort.
“You’regladI’m not there?” I ask with a faint smirk on my lips.
Another huff escapes him. “Mhm… But it’s so good to hear your voice.”
I’m not a child. He doesn’t need to describe to me what he’s doing for me to be able to tell, to know. I’ve seen enough alphas writhing in lust in the past. And I’ve experienced it myself, too. The awfully primitive point of my heat when—if I let myself, if I surrendered to it enough or had the opportunity to safely entertain it—I’d sink into a mad, desperate, pathetic state of longing. Nothing but heat and an insatiable hunger for friction, resulting in me lying on my bed with my cock in hand, stroking desperately, drowning in pleasure and the need formoreof it.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sam,” he whines.
I blink and notice the uncomfortable pull of my loose-fitting cotton pants.
“Sorry for what?” I ask breathlessly, terrified and stunned at what’s actually happening to me. My eyelids feel heavy, weighted down by the nonexistent, thick atmosphere that seems to be somehow transferring over the phone. “I already told you I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t.”
He tries to hide a moan at the sound of my voice, but I hear it. It sends a shiver of arousal through me.
“But you thought it. You did. And I…I know. I understand,” he mutters, words interrupted by strained whimpers. “I understand why, but I would never… Fuck… I want to do things to you—things you would want and enjoy and beg for—but I’d never do what those alphas did.Never,” he assures me withpowerful determination, tremors of anger and something else passing through his words.
I tighten my grip on the dresser and part my lips, staring at my reflection in the window. I expect fear and pain and panic at the mention of them, but it…doesn’t come.
“I’d rather fucking die than hurt you. Oh, Sam…” Theo keeps muttering and lapping air against the phone. He almost sounds like he’s leaped over some sort of line, where he no longer cares for self-control or really thinks about what he’s saying and just lets it spill out. “You have no idea how… I would treasure you, I would…go as slow, as slow as possible, as slow as you’d want. I’d try so fucking hard.”
The last word, pushed through his teeth with a strained grunt, sends a throbbing sensation through my crotch and my core. I bite down on my lip, closing my eyes slowly, and press my thighs together, feeling my length straining against the pant leg.
“If I could, if you’d ask, I would’ve only given you a child you wanted. If only you… I would’ve made you swell with life and love. I’d love them, as much as I love you and her, and as much as—” His voice hitches sharply. In exactly the way men had squirmed underneath me before, hovering on the edge of coming undone. “But I know I can’t, I…ah,fuck. I know I can’t, but I’ll never be able to feel any other way.”
The way his husky voice, overflowing with the most unleashed, erotic lust, affects me is rattling. When I fully realize just how powerful his grip is, a jolt of something potent rushes through me, and I end the call without thinking.
Shit.
I regret it as soon as it happens, but it’s too late.
Pushing out a shaky breath, I use both of my hands to lean against the edge of the dresser, hanging my head between my shoulders as I try to steady myself. My entire body buzzes with feelings and emotions I wasn’t ready to experience yet.
I’m hard and I’m really fucking turned on; there’s no ignoring that. But it’s the first time. The very first time since…
Months. It’s been months of being deprived of these sensations by the pain of that deep wound inside me.
I suck in my lip, breathing out through my nose. No matter how these feelings aggravate that wound, I can’t stop them from rocking through my being, needy and intense and so damn satisfying.
I slide my left hand down the side of my belly, trying my hardest to just do the thing, to follow the pull, and ignore the thoughts racing through my head. It feels strange. Almost like I’m doing something wrong. And yet when I slip my hand in and my fingers come in contact with the slippery tip of my cock, I let out a desperate moan, squeezing my hardened shaft tightly in my hand.
With my elbow, I lean against the top of the dresser and bent down further. I pump myself slow and careful at first.
