Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(9)

I played the mantra in my head for a few minutes, listening to him snore and the enthusiastic woman crying out downstairs. My skin was warm, even as I peeled out of the blankets, and the repetitive sounds from below had an embarrassing effect on my body, warming me from the inside out.

A woman on her knees, crying out as an alpha pumped into her from behind. The red light of the camera watching from the top left corner of my little room, the volume rising higher as I tried to hide my gaze.

Safe. I am with Bear, and I am safe. I am safe here.

I came back to the present and tried to let the heat simmering through me feel welcome. This was not Omikron trying to force arousal, manufacture my heat. This was just the sound of a woman having a good time downstairs and the smell of an alpha who was keeping me safe.

I reached out and found the closet door, wincing at the squeak, pausing as it tapped against something on the floor.

A trap?

Bear was still snoring as I reached out between the crack, fumbling over the rough carpet until my touch crinkled against a thin bag. The alpha's throat cleared as I touched the plastic.

Food!

"Hey, Butterfly. Left you some—" Bear let out that soft rasp of a laugh as I broke free of the closet and descended blindly on the food.

A sealed bag of chips. A heavy aluminum can. There was a sandwich too, unwrapped, and I lifted it from the styrofoam plate but couldn't convince myself to bring it to my mouth.

Sometimes the meals I'd been fed made me sick. Sometimes they made my skin feverish and my insides twist, laced with drugs trying to induce a heat.

I helped myself to the chips, and Bear made the mattress squeak as he rolled over. Outside of my nest, light from somewhere outside made the foggy shapes of the room a little clearer. Bear's arm moved above his chest. He was on his back now. I opened the can and sipped slowly, surprised to find it was lemonade, rather than beer or soda.

"You sleep okay?" he asked.

I nodded, and he hummed. He could see me fine.

Downstairs, the woman's moans were growing longer, more languid and satisfied. My perfume was blooming, sweet and sticky. A surprising burst of heat in my core released an unexpected wetness. Slick.

My eyes widened, but Bear made no sound. He'd dressed me in a huge shirt and a pair of men's briefs that barely hung onto my slim hips—his own clothing, not another woman's. I was going to make his underwear smell like my arousal, and his shirt would mix our scents together.

"You don't have a pillow," I whispered, drinking more of the lemonade, running my tongue over my teeth. I would ask him if I could have a toothbrush tomorrow.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get you more for your nest tomorrow. Clothes, bath stuff. Everything you need," he said, his voice thick with sleep.

Safe. A good alpha. I needed him. His protection, and…

And I needed a way to relieve the throb between my legs. I put the empty chip bag aside and pushed the can out of the way, crawling slowly toward the bed, finding it with my hands in the dark.

"Whatcha need, Butterfly?" Bear whispered, words slow and slurring softly as I climbed up. He would fall back to sleep if I let him.

I could crawl into my nest, touch myself. But that would be like it was in my cell, trying to hide my sounds, my tiny movements from the cameras, from whoever was watching, from the humiliating reality of being trapped and horny and observed.

His chest was bare as I braced my hands there, his skin so, so warm. He stiffened as I swung one leg over his hips.

"Butterfly—"

"I need this," I whispered, sitting down on his lap.

Should I have undressed? He was wearing sweatpants, and I landed directly on the waistband, the knotted tie against my clit. The pressure was like a finger and I let out a pleased whimper, rocking on top of him without thinking twice.

Bear's hands wrapped around my wrists, gentle but lifting up, trying to move me. I wasn't sure I had the courage to fight him, but I was already lost to the tiny point of relief that one bit of friction had provided. I sighed and moved, scooting down a little farther to the pressure of his hips, rubbing myself there. My eyes fell shut, and I was in the middle of a rhythm, steady and slow, grinding, when I realized my hands were still on his hot chest, his fingers wrapped around my wrists.

"I need this, alpha," I said again. "Please."

Bear wasn't breathing, but his heart was thumping fast and hard under my right hand, and there was a nudging and swelling against my ass.

One large hand slid up my arm, skipping the loose shirt sleeves, to cup the side of my neck. I leaned into his touch, his hand surprisingly cool on my throat, and marveled at the delicious pressure and gentle fire in my core. I moaned freely, matching the woman downstairs, and Bear's thumb stroked over my pulse.

"Shit," Bear muttered, and my pace stuttered for a moment. "You're burning up, Butterfly."

"Mhm." I nodded and gasped. I tugged on the hand he was still holding, twisting in his grasp and struggling for a moment to push his hand under my shirt, up to my breast.

"When was your last heat?"

He sounded so calm. I was sure that was his cock growing thick and stiff behind me, but he didn't move otherwise, didn't take anything for himself, didn't push me away.

"I-I—Ohhh!" I managed to wrap his huge hand around my breast, and finally Bear grunted, fingers flexing briefly.