She doesn’t come for two days.
For two fucking days.
“She’ll be back tomorrow,” Doctor Porter says after their session, as if reading his mind. “She’s reviewing some notes back at the cabin.”
If the doctor realizes he made a mistake, he doesn’t show it.
So that’s where she is.
It makes sense. The nearest hotel is around twenty miles away, and if she’s planning on staying longer than a few days, the hospital saves money by keeping her at their cabin instead.
As he’s lost in thought, a knowing look shines in the doctor’s eyes.
“You like her.”
He says it matter-of-factly, almost smugly, and he wants to punch him right in his grinning face.
“She’s…adequate,” he offers. “She’s intelligent and seems interested in what happens here.”
She’s everything.
“She brings something to this place that was missing.” The doctor chuckles to himself. “I’m not sure what…but she’s making my job easier. We had a great coffee date.”
He says it so wistfully that if he wasn’t a Beta, Erik would attack him. Still, he feels a stab of jealousy as he imagines Ellie sipping coffee and chatting politely with Doctor Porter.
His chest vibrates, a low growl rising in his throat, but the doctor doesn’t notice.
“If you keep working with me, we can add outdoor time, as well as other privileges. It will have to be after the storm, though. According to the weather reports, this one is going to be nasty.”
There’s only been one other major storm since he’s been here. That time, the power shut off, and the generators were the only things keeping the doors locked.
He wonders what this storm will bring.
He’s painfully hard, and all he can think about is her. She’s a poison in his mind, a parasite embedded so deeply into his brain that he’ll never be the same.
He pulls out his hidden phone, now fully charged. Porter was so oblivious as Erik opened up about his life that he didn’t see the tiny green light under the couch, the phone battery charging in the outlet covered by the back of the couch.
He needs to know everything about her.
Omega Omega Omega
Need Omega
His brain is haywire, the thought of her consuming his mind and body.
He types out a message before he can stop.
Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?
He waits patiently for a response, knowing that she read the message.
Stop, please.
He can’t. A better man would leave her the fuck alone and report his sins, so she would be safe from him forever.
A good man would tell Doctor Porter that she’s not working out for him and it’s better that she leave.
Too bad he’s no longer a good man.
He was once, a long time ago.
But that man is gone.
You tasted so fucking good on my tongue, Omega. You were such a good girl.
She read the message.
No response.
He continues.
Do you know what good girls get? Good girls get fucked. Good girls get their cunts licked and their clits sucked until they come all over my face.
Message read.
No response.
I know you’re wet for me. Play with your clit, baby. No one has to know.
Message read.
He palms his cock through his pants, squeezing the girth and imagining her mouth around him.
Wish I was there, baby. I would lick you clean and stretch you open with my fingers. You’d be so fucking tight for me.
Message read.
And he just knows, every part of him knows she’s touching herself right now. He can practically hear the cadence of her breath, the sound of her gasping against her own fingers as her slick stains the sheets of the bed in her cabin.
He squeezes himself harder, one hand working his cock while the other types.
I want to knot you so fucking bad, Ellie.
Message read.
Split you open. Make you come all over my cock like a good girl.
Message read.
Are you touching yourself, Omega?
If she has any sanity, any reason within her, she will turn off her phone and run far, far away.
Message read.
Then she responds.
Yes.
It’s one sweet, simple word, but he growls, working himself harder.
Fuck. What he wouldn’t give to smell her in this instant, to put his lips against the delicate gland she hides so discreetly—
Make yourself come.
Message read.
He finishes in his hand, his seed spurting all over his hands and stomach.
Still, it’s not enough.
He needs to be buried in her cunt, feel her delicate walls squeezing him as she rides his cock, only stopping when he inflates too wide inside her.
As he collapses on the small cot, he wonders if his suppressants are working as they should.
He wonders if hers are working.
