Page 11 of For What It's Worth
“I bet he’s taking his shirt your pussy rubbed against and fucking inhaling your scent as he takes his cock in his hand and imagines it’s you. Maybe your hand, your mouth, your pussy. Any part of you. If he’s anything like me, then he just needs a single fucking thought about you before he threatens to lose his load. That makes him grip his cock even harder to try to put off the ending, but it won’t work. And when he’s finished, it won’t help. He’ll just feel unsatisfied.”
I didn’t have any words. Actually, that was a lie. I had lots of words like “kiss me” or “fuck me” or “touch me in any way that will make the sudden appearance of the wetness in my pussy go away”. But I wasn’t going to get sucked in again. Saying no to one was easy. Easier. Still nearly impossible but necessary. I chanted the word over and over again: necessary.
“Do you have any soaps?” The tub was set up in the middle of the room without any lip for products. It was mostly meant for relaxing, not cleaning. Totally posh but it wasn’t mine. Might as well indulge.
“Now that you’re awake, I’ll let you get washed. There’s stuff Enzo picked out for you on the floor over here. I can turn the light on, on the way out. You’ll see a towel and a robe hanging on the wall near your feet.”
Aidan left, turning on the lights while I managed a whispered thank you and lots of blinking and eye covering to deal with the sudden brightness. Note to self: in my bathroom next to my future nest, I wanted dimming lights.
I picked up the soaps Aidan mentioned and nearly dropped the first bottle in the water. It was a fancy brand I’d never even heard of before but that wasn’t what stopped me. Three incomes could easily afford the special non-scented soap. What rekindled the warm specks of jealousy I thought had extinguished were three words on the bottle in pretty cursive: Recommended for Omegas.
Was it irrational to be upset that the sexually active alphas had soap for the willing sexual partners they brought back to their house? Yes. But that knowledge didn’t help.
I turned down the route of petty. If I was going to clean with the fancy soaps, I might need two or three washes. You know, just to ensure my true scent was really gone. I squeezed the bottle hard, but nothing came out. I hit the bottom of the bottle like it was one of those old style non-squeezable ketchup bottles. Still nothing.
Twisting off the cap, I found the source of the blockage. The stupid silver cover that meant the bottle was unopened was still intact. Did the males just hand these bottles out to their omega guests? I guessed that made sense. Like some sort of weird gift for their sexual encounters.
Oh goodness. Was that what I was? Just one of the many females who had made out with Lorenzo. Hell, I even met his ex. Who, come to think of it, was a beta.
What did that mean for the omega soaps? Sure, non-omegas could buy and use it, but other brands had options for alpha and beta pheromones. Why this omega specific product?
It took a few tries with my wet hands to get the protective cover off, and even longer to get the others off too. But I finally managed it and washed up in the cold water, letting my mind race. I ignored the water waving over the sides as I reached for bottles my inner omega preened at using. By the time I finished and reached for the towel while the tub drained, I worried more water was out of the tub than went down the drain.
Since my clothes were being washed—hopefully done now so I could make a quick escape—it left me with only the robe Aidan mentioned. It was softer than I anticipated and a white that reminded me of sheep’s wool. I laid down the towel in an attempt to mop up the water before I carefully set it over the side of the tub to let it dry out.
A knock on the door came before I heard Jenson’s voice asking if he could come in.
I wrapped the robe tight across my body and made sure to tie the belt to hold it in place. The robe had pockets, so I shoved my hands into them and told Jenson to come in. No longer in his work clothes, the alpha still looked elegant even in the comfort of his own home. Brown pants with a light orange shirt that unbuttoned down to his pectoral muscles. And damn, was I right before when I guessed—no, hoped—he had hair on his chest. Professor Jenson did not lack in the chest hair department and was it weird I wanted to run my fingers through it?
His eyes immediately went to the towel on the tub and a small smile formed on his lips before he glanced back at me, a serious look overcoming whatever inside joke.
“How was your bath?”
“Good.” I internally cringed at the bitter tone, so I tried again. “I love this tub.” When Jenson didn’t say anything to fill the silence my mouth kept talking without permission. “And the new bottles of unscented soaps were a nice touch. For omegas.”
Jenson nodded like I asked a question. “Aidan was excited to finally use the stuff he picked out for our future omega. He goes on trips a lot and always comes back with something new.”
Wait, Aidan picked all this out? I looked back at the soaps, clearly remembering Aidan telling me Enzo picked it out for me.
“Early on, Aidan would always show us what he found. Explain how our omega would like it for this reason or that. But over the years, he’s started hiding away his finds.”
They’d been a pack for years? Sure, Jenson might be a professor at the university, but he had to be new based on how young he was. I always thought of him as early twenties with his dark hair and model-like clothing. The male knew how to put outfits together better than a stereotypical gay character whose sole purpose in a TV show was to make their female best friend hot. And I guessed imagining him younger helped my conscious deal with how attractive I had found him. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t put my crush in the past tense. It was very real, and very much threatening to arouse me again if I didn’t distract myself on menial thing.
“How old are you?” I asked.
If Jenson was shocked by the change in topic, he didn’t show it. “Twenty-six. I’m the oldest in the pack but only by a couple days.”
“Who’s next?”
“Aidan.”
“And Lorenzo?”
“Enzo is a year younger than us, but he skipped a grade when he first came here. We’ve all known each other since middle school.”
I nodded, but I didn’t have anything else to say.
“C’mon. I cancelled classes for the rest of the day, so I have time to look over the progress of your project for my class.”