Page 78 of Wicked Truths

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“What do we do now?” Oakley asks, peeking around the nest.

Um, how the fuck am I supposed to know? I thought an omega built their nest from instinct or something.

I glance around, scratching my bare chest.

I changed into basketball shorts while Oakley was sucking face with her drunken alpha, but now it’s time to do the damn thing.

I nod to the plastic bins near the door. “I’m guessing those have stuff you can personalize it with.”

Oakley grunts, side eyeing the bins. “That seems like a lot of work. There are tons of pillows and a nice, thick comforter.”

“Yeah, but you’re still running a fever.” I frown because that’s normal with a heat, but she was also really fucking sick a few days ago. “Maybe there are some light blankets that would be better?”

She gives the stuff a sour look, so I saunter over and squat to pull the lid off.

I snort when I get a good look inside. “Oh holy fuck, my life would be complete if I can get you in this dinosaur onesie.”

“What?” she scoffs but comes to kneel at my side.

I wiggle my eyebrows, yanking it out of the bin. “It has a tail.” I shake it at her. “And a pussy flap.”

She laughs, resting her head against my shoulder. “Okay, so it is cute and really soft, but no way am I risking you taking pictures of me in that. They could be used for blackmail.” Her face goes extremely pale. I frown, tilting my head to try to figure out what happened. She’s back to looking in the box, and she pulls out a different version of the adult onesie. “Fine, I’ll wear the T-rex if you wear the triceratops.”

I snort, shaking my head. I’m still wondering if she’s got some past experience with an asshole ex who took dirty pictures and tried to blackmail her. I frown. That doesn’t make much sense because I’ve clearly heard Marcus mention she was a virgin when they got together, which blows my mind on a completely different level. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s not a possibility.

My eyes fall back to the box, and I spot lube and what I think might be massage lotion. They stock the nest completely, unless this is from one of the guys. I don’t see how since we got here last minute, but I grab the lotion.

“How about you stretch out and let me work a little magic on your muscles?” I suggest, smirking.

Oakley tilts her head, blinking up at me. “Yeah, okay.”

“Go on.” I nod to the mattress. Oakley scrambles to her feet. Instead of walking on the small, carpeted area on either side of the bed, she hits her knees and crawls up.

My head falls back as my palm runs over my thickening length. Fuck, my impulses scream to pounce, trap her to the bed, rut her full of me, and sink my teeth into her soft little body.

This isn’t a disaster waiting to happen or anything.

* * *

My dick is trying to act a fool.

Oakley isn’t helping with her soft grunts and groans while I work her tight muscles. She wiggles about, begging me to push harder on an especially stubborn knot in her right shoulder. However, my cock is convinced she’s begging for something completely different.

My fingers brush over her neck as I release the nodule. If I work it too hard, she won’t feel great tomorrow, and the last thing I want to do is bruise her. My mum is a massage therapist. I know all about trigger points, knots, and pressure.

I thought Oakley would want light pressure and mostly relaxation, but the little omega won’t stop asking for me to work out every knot I find.

I chuckle as she frowns at me over her shoulder. Her hair is still wet, but it’s drying into a wild tangle of long wavy curls. “Can you work my lower back, just above my bottom?”

I bite my lip, wiggling my eyebrows. “I could do your glutes too.”

Oakley groans as my thumbs caress her spine, working lower on every swipe of my hands. My shorts aren’t doing shit to hide how far my cock juts out. It would be comical if I wasn’t trying to get to know her. It’s sending the wrong kind of image, and I know where my head is at. I can only guess what it seems like to her.

I work my thumbs into her lumbar region while my palms brush over the top of her ass. Marcus wasn’t joking. She’s slender for an omega, but she’s got curves; they’re just slightly less pronounced. I’m a skinny fucker. I generally find myself attracted to softer bodies, otherwise cuddling is a mess of whose bones can jab deeper into the other person. However, we’ll figure it out, even if I have to toss a pillow on my chest so that we can snuggle.

“So, what’s your beef with onesies?” I ask conversationally.

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