"Fuck. Oh, God. Fucking, yes. Just like that. God, that feels so fucking good. Don't stop!"
The nasally cries pour through the wall and into my room, dragging my attention away from the chemistry formulas I've been staring at for the past hour. Of course my roommate is fucking her Alpha What’s-His-Name again. Ever since he came into her life this week, that's all it's been.
At this point, I'm not even sure what part of our shared space is safe to sit on. It seems like everything is fair game as far as they're concerned. Everything but my room, that is. A heavy sigh drifts from my lips as I look over at my neat and tidy bed. Definitely no Alphas messing up my sheets. No hands fisting the fabric as they pin me down and rut into me until I'm dripping all over everything until everything is basically a biohazard.
Slick gathers between my thighs as they continue to go at it. From the harsh, frantic sounds of scraping and bumping, I wouldn't be surprised if he had her pinned to the wall, rutting into her like an animal. It would at least help explain the unhuman noises filling the space.
The small, carefully placed picture frames and dry-erase calendar rattle with every punctuated moan. Honestly, I'm shocked they haven't fallen yet. There’s still time, though. I’m not naïve enough to think they’ll stay on that much longer.
Gathering my laptop, I move to my bed and lie down. Though I'm further away now, I can still hear everything, still feel the vibrations of their lust thrumming through the walls. I should be studying. I should be preparing for my finals. Instead, my hand wanders down into my pants where I drag my fingers across my slick lower lips and slide back up to circle my clit. Pleasure blooms hot and immediate, even as guilt rises in me like bile.
I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be listening in. I sure as hell shouldn't be getting off to my dorm mate and her boy toy of the week. It's wrong to be using them like this, feeding my desperate, hungry mind. Would I want them doing the same to me?
My heart and mind don't seem to agree because I keep touching myself, stroking wet circles around my clit as heat drips down my spine and curls my toes. Her cries become harder, more frantic, as his growls permeate the space—deep Alpha sounds that sizzle across my ears and drive a spike of jealousy straight into my chest.
How many times have I dreamed of an Alpha to bend me to his will, to consume me, to make me his? To shove me to my knees and make me choke on his cock while he tells me what a needy little slut I am?
God, I've been reading too many romance novels. At this moment, all I can think about, all I want, is an Alpha's lips hovering over mine. Every breath I exhale is one he draws into himself, drinking me in heart and soul. His hands map my body in hushed, fierce reverence as he owns me, barely leashing the violence I know is coiled beneath his skin.
Pleasure swirls through me as I work my clit faster, letting the sounds of my friend's passion spur me forward. Granted, with the way her Alpha grunts like a caveman, I can't see myself actually wanting a guy like that. Not really.
I want someone smart, someone who can dirty talk with the best of them, someone who can wreck me with words before he ever touches me… someone like the heroes in my novels. Someone who'll whisper filthy promises against my throat about how he's going to ruin me, split me open on his knot, make me beg for it.
If only I could make fiction rise off the page and take me, own me, claim me. Scrunching my eyes closed, I picture his teeth at the juncture between my neck and shoulder, holding me down but not piercing. Not yet, not until his massive knot fills me, stretches me open, and ties me to him. Not until I'm so full with his cock that I can barely breathe, pussy clenching desperately around the thick invasion as he forces me to take every inch.
Then, and only then, will he sink his teeth into my flesh, making us one. God, how romantic. My blood pouring into his mouth, sliding down his throat as our souls merge and intertwine until there's no him or me… just us.
It's not the blood that draws me. I've never been a fan of vampires or monsters. It's being so consumed by another person that their heartbeat becomes yours, that you can't tell where you end and they begin. I just have to get through the blood part first. Might as well picture it as the sexiest thing on earth.
My free hand joins in, drifting lower until I can slide a finger inside my pussy. My inner walls clamp down immediately, desperately grasping at the pathetic intrusion as I strain toward release. God, I'm so empty. So fucking empty I could cry.
One finger is nothing compared to what I need, what I'm aching for, but it’s something. It's that tease, that hint of fullness that finally sends me over the edge. My hips buck pathetically against my hand as I imagine it's an Alpha's thick fingers buried knuckle-deep inside me, his palm grinding against my clit while he tells me to come for him like the desperate little omega I am. I come hard, spasming around my own finger, teeth sinking into my lower lip to keep from crying out so no one can hear my shame.
Heaven knows I don't want Chelsea finding out what's happening in my room. It would be mortifying for them to know I just came all over my hand because they decided to fuck… again.
Groaning under my breath, I ease my finger out and wipe it on my pants, the coarse fabric rough against my oversensitive skin. I can't go out and use the communal bathroom now. Not when they're still going at it loud enough that I'm sure the apartments at the other end can hear. I'll have to keep some sanitization wipes in my desk drawer in case this happens again.
No, I scold myself. It's not going to happen again. This cannot happen again. Not like this, anyway.
Heat fans my cheeks as I pick up my laptop and try to concentrate. Chelsea's punctuated cries continue to pepper the air, driving me to distraction. Thankfully, I managed to ease the ache enough that it only annoys me instead of being both irritating and arousing.
As I root around for a set of headphones, my phone goes off. The familiar ring makes my gut twist until I'm nearly sick. Dad. Of course he'd call just as I was getting off. His timing, as always, is impeccable.
"Hey Dad," I grumble into the phone as I wedge it between my shoulder and ear while I continue seeking out the headphones that seem to have grown legs and walked off.
"Hey, Little Lily," he croons, setting my already raw nerves on fire. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"
As much as I want to tell him yes, I want to get him off the phone even quicker. Even though the two next door seem to have quieted down, I'm not sure how long that will last. And good luck trying to explain that to him.
I can hear it now. Little Lily, you're too young to be engaging in that. Little Lily, that's inappropriate for an omega. Little Lily… Little Lily…
"Lila," he barks out, interrupting my thoughts. "Are you listening to me?" The sharp edge of his tone rankles me even through the phone.
His cop voice. Great. Just what I need. He doesn't get mad, not really, but as an Alpha, he's never one to shy away from asserting dominance, especially when annoyed.
"Sorry, Dad," I mumble. "I think the phone cut out for a minute. Can you repeat that?"
The pause on the other end is heavy, causing my heart to clench in my chest. Does he believe it? Or is "thoughtless Lily" just spacing again? Will his training demand that he interrogate me before getting to the reason for his call?
"I said, your mother and I have everything set up for when you come home. I know the semester ends in about two weeks, so you make sure to come home straight away. Don't make me come out there and drag you back."
There's a slight chuckle in his tone, but I know he's deadly serious. If I don't show back up on their doorstep the moment I'm free from classes, nothing will stop him from retrieving his "little girl" from the clutches of the scary collegiate institution. And if he doesn't, I'm sure some helpful officer from the precinct I'm currently in will be more than happy to assist a fellow cop.
It's bad enough that I hear a lecture every time I return. I really don't want that, plus a humiliating car ride home. Besides, after being here for two semesters and still managing an A average despite the distractions, I think I'm doing pretty well for myself. He might not think so… but then, that seems par for the course.
"It's just you though, right? No boys coming home with you?"
And there it is. The question that's always on his mind. You're not dating, right? You're concentrating on school. You know Alphas only want one thing. Take your mother. She has a degree and works outside the home. You don't want to end up barefoot and pregnant before you even start your life, do you?
"No, Dad. No boys."
Not that I haven't considered it. Unfortunately, all the boys on campus are jerks and jocks. None of them see me as anything other than omega pussy they can claim. I refuse to be another notch on their belt. Not when I'm sure I can find what I'm looking for in an older man… someone who knows what the fuck he's doing. Someone who can make me scream his name without fumbling around like an idiot.
"That's my good girl."
God, how that endearment grates on my nerves and makes it all worse. I want to be called a good girl, but not by him. I want it growled in the dark as hot, thick fingers fist my hair, as my lips stretch around a massive cock and I worship it like the good, little, slutty omega I know is somewhere inside me.
I want to hear it when I'm on my knees with tears streaming down my face, gagging on an Alpha's dick while he pets my hair and tells me how well I'm taking him. But from my dad? It's just patronizing and infantilizing. Not to mention a complete mood killer, removing any lingering trace of arousal dripping through me from my afternoon interlude.
Shaking my head, I finally find my headphones and drop them on the bed. "Is there anything else you need?"
"Nate's coming home. Just wanted you to know. He's taken leave for a few weeks, so it will be like old times again. Isn't that great?"
My stomach drops. "Yes," I murmur. "Just perfect. The best way to spend my winter break before the spring semester."
"There now!" he booms out, covering up an extra loud groan from the boy toy next door. "I knew you'd be excited. I'll let your mother know. Love you, sweetheart. See you soon. Good luck on your exams. Remember, you got to—"
"Keep my grades up," I intone, cutting him off. "I know, Dad. You tell me every time."
"And you keep getting good grades because I tell you every time. I'm sure you want to keep your freedom out there, so, what…?" he trails off.
"Good grades and no boys."
"Exactly. Bye, sweetheart."
Winter break. Dad. My stepmother. Nate. A full house. Even now, the pit in my stomach expands so much I worry I'll be swallowed whole. How many years has it been now? Ever since he joined the military, I think I’ve seen him once? Maybe twice?
Each time, it was always tense, always stilted. Or it could just be me. It’s not like we got all that close when he came into the family. His mom, or rather, my mom too, as dad insists, isn't all that bad. But Nate can be insufferable. At least, what little I remember.
He's probably still that irritating guy, only now made more annoying by being the big bad Alpha overseas defending our freedom. People don’t change all that much. They think they do, but in reality, it’s just their true selves coming out of hiding.
By the time I press end on the call, cold sweat beads on my forehead. Unfortunately, that was the wake-up call I shouldn't have needed. Here I am, liberty in the balance, and I got off instead of prepping for my test… a test in a class I'm just not even passing. If I don't ace this final, I don't make the grade. If I don't make the grade, I'm forced back home.
Tears gather in my eyes as I look at the chemistry formulas swimming in and out of focus. I'd like to think Dad wouldn't pull me out and make me study at home over one bad class, but I can't chance that. It's the only freedom I have, the only way I can be unrestricted for a little bit.
I nibble the edge of my nail as I flip through the pages and search for the terms I'm struggling with on the internet, but still, nothing helps. As much as I hate depending on yet another man, I know exactly who to call. It's the call I've been dreading since I took this stupid class.
The school tutor hasn't helped. Been there, done that. Nothing he says makes sense either. But try telling that to my dad. If I just work hard, my grades will reflect that. Well, case in point, that doesn’t always work.
Ugh. So stupid. I should have just swallowed my pride and called Nate earlier, but I thought I could do it. I thought I could handle it. Now, here I am at the last second, praying for a Hail Mary.
Picking my phone back up, I dial the one number I've been avoiding as much as I can—Nathaniel Vance, my stepbrother, military chemist or something like that. At this point, I don't know which option I'd consider lucky. Would he actually answer and help me? Would he be too busy and I wouldn't have to have an awkward conversation with him so soon before winter break?
Questions pepper my brain as it rings, and I almost squeak in surprise at his rough, grumbled, "Hello?"
When the hell did that happen? Or has he always sounded like rumbled exhaust pouring from a vintage car? It slithers down my spine and causes my clit to pulse, just for a moment, just until I scream at my brain that it's my stepbrother and I should have already gotten over this stupid crush years ago.
"You there?" he asks, scattering my thoughts again.
"Y- yes. Hi. Sorry. Are you free?"
His low, deep chuckle skitters over my skin until goosebumps explode across my arms. Bad. This is very bad. What the fuck is wrong with me?
"I don't know,” he laughs. “I'm a pretty busy guy, but for you, I think I can make an exception. It must be serious for you to call me. What's going on? How can I help you?"
"Chemistry," I blurt out.
“Chemistry?” he questions back in that low, deep voice of his that has me questioning every thought going through my mind. “Chemistry can encompass a lot. Are you having boy trouble or equations trouble?”
Why did he have to ask it like that? Plopping my head in my hands, I force myself to breathe. Deep, even, calm.
"I have a final,” I say once I’m back under control. “And I'm bombing this class. I think I remember you saying you were good at it. Am I remembering correctly? Please say you can help me?"
Try as I might to be cool, calm, and confident, I find myself babbling in a way that causes my insides to clench with humiliation. He's my stepbrother. An annoying Alpha. That's it.
He's the same jerk who hid my papers and pencils. He's the one who would dunk me in the pool and make me fight him to get a breath of air. He's the dork who was obsessed with martial arts movies and acted them out whenever he got the chance.
He's not hot.
He's not available.
He's not what I want.
Besides, he's in the military. Those guys are just dumb jocks. I want a suave man who can sweep me off my feet, who can charm me with words. Not someone whose idea of a great time is flicking you on the back of the ear then darting away.
"I'm okay at it," he chuckles, breaking into my thoughts. "At least that's what they tell me at work." Even over the phone, I swear I can hear that smug expression I'm sure he's wearing.
Ugh. I really need to get laid if he's what my body responds to. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen. Not any time soon, at least. I wonder if I can just buy some toys and trick my body into thinking it has what it needs until I'm free from school, free from Dad, and free to make my own choices without scrutiny. Maybe a thick silicone cock that can fill me properly, make me feel something other than pathetically empty. God knows my fingers aren't cutting it.
Besides, if I order now, it'll get here before I leave, and I won't have Dad sniffing around the suspicious package until I'm forced to reveal his "Little Lily" is nothing more than a horny young adult who just needs a good fuck. That I’m an omega who needs to be bent over and used until I can't think straight. No, not a fuck. I just need something to take the edge off.
"You there, Little Lily?" he breathes, making me see red and forcing slick to gather between my thighs all at once. "How can I help?"
There it is. Little. Fucking. Lily.
