Page 12 of Packing for Vacation

There’s a blatant honesty about him that makes it easy to relax and trust what he says about my body. I settle onto my belly, sighing when the heat of his hands travels down my back.

“Perfect,” he says.

Édouard’s eyes making a critical sweep down my body. Stephen’s suggestion that I should wear the baggy t-shirt rather than the fitted dress. The gym membership Zane gifted me on my birthday. Jack’s comments making it clear that my appearance was no longer in line with the pack’s ideas of what omegas should look like.

“I fuckin’ love this,” Matiu declares, his hand gripping the soft flesh of my thigh and giving it a jiggle. What, my cellulite? I want to ask, but I keep my mouth shut, and I’m thankful for it when he bends a moment later, biting me there gently with a growl. It sends a shiver up my spine, a promise of things to come if everything somehow falls into place.

My alpha.

A bond.

A pack.

Belonging.

“Seriously,” he’s saying, his hands now on my ass, squeezing appreciatively. My thong is pulled down my hips and off in one smooth motion. “If this had to be my view for the rest of my life I’d die a happy man. You have the best arse I’ve ever seen.”

He’s so different to the men in my former pack that I could cry from relief. I roll over instead, spreading my legs for him. “You sure this isn’t the best view?” I ask, keeping the past at bay with flimsy humour. I don’t need those memories in this bed.

“All of you,” he says, his brown eyes travelling up my body, his head shaking slowly. “It’s all the best view. Every fucking inch of you.”

“Even this?” I grab my soft stomach.

I’ve worked hard to be neutral when it comes to my body. Positive, even. That I’m not stick-thin is a fact. I don’t have a problem with my belly, or at least that’s what I tell myself now as he pauses, trying to read my expression. I wasn’t being mean to myself. I wasn’t being fatphobic. This just isn’t what I thought I’d look like when I revealed as an omega. I’m still learning to love myself.

“Especially that.” He leans forward, kissing me there, sweet and quick. “Haven’t you seen all those classical statues? All those historical paintings?” He plants another kiss on my fleshy hip. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He grabs his cock, long and thick and hard, his knot already swollen at the base, and taps it against the mound of my pussy. “This doesn’t lie. I think you’re perfect.”

His scent doesn’t lie, either. It’s strong—peppery, earthy, and sweet all at once—and absolutely signals to my omega that this alpha both likes me and is ready to fuck. Still, I laugh, thinking about this trip so far. “I’m definitely not perfect. As we’ve already discussed, I’m a bit of a mess.”

“I disagree.” He’s nibbling on my ankle now, mouth slowly inching up my leg.

“You disagree? You’re the expert on me or something?”

“Not yet, but I’d like to be.” He pauses mid-thigh to press his nose to my skin there. “Fuck, you smell good.”

“So do you.” A fresh wave of nerves wash over me, my scent souring just slightly, enough for Matiu to pause and study my face again. “I’ve never met a scent match before,” I offer in a whispered explanation, wondering if he feels as vulnerable as I do. “It’s so rare. I guess there’s more levity to this, just knowing…” That this could be more than just a summer fling, that I might get my heart broken, that we’re from opposite sides of the world, that there’s another scent match I have to fit into this picture, and what if I ruin things? What if our values don’t align?

“There is,” he agrees.

“I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“Trust me, you haven’t.” He offers me another lopsided grin, nodding towards his erect penis, and there’s something about his open, blunt way of saying things that has me laughing and relaxing again. His thumb brushes back and forth over my bent knee in a gesture that is so natural and somehow familiar despite the fact that we were two strangers mere hours ago. “This is special, and rare, and we’re lucky to have the opportunity to explore it. Believe me, I’m more nervous than you.”

“You don’t seem it.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got years of faking bravado under my belt when it comes to work. If you want to know what I’m feeling, other than insane levels of gratefulness that you’ve wandered into my life and awe at the events that transpired to make that happen, it’s that I’m shit scared I’m going to fuck this up, because I can already tell how much of a good thing this could be.”

I nod, reaching for him wordlessly, a lump in my throat. He falls forward until he’s hovering over me. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, and maybe it’s absurd given the fact that he’s already done so, that we’re already here, mostly naked on his bed, but I nod, somehow knowing he’s asking more than just that.

Can I court you? Are you willing to give this a try? Do you know what this means?

“Yes.”

This time his kiss is slow and deliberate, a reverent mapping of my mouth, a hand lightly gripping my jaw, his lips following the same path a moment later. No one has ever kissed me like this before, like I’m worthy of worship. He continues in the same vein down my body, every touch meaning something. The words beautiful and perfect are whispered against my flesh, breaking down my walls while simultaneously setting a fire under my skin.

“In. I need you in me,” I whine as his fingers tease my slick-drenched thighs, making my pussy ache. I reach between us, gripping his cock hard enough to make him hiss.

“I’m meant to eat you out first.”