Page 47 of Scheme
I nodded, my mouth suddenly too dry to form words. There was a muted sort of warning bell doing its valiant best somewhere in the back of my mind, a vague this-is-a-bad-idea-Margot type of alarm that wanted me to consider things like consequences and future awkwardness.
I hit snooze on that bad boy. Those were Future Margot’s problems. Present Margot was more focused on having her brains knotted out of her skull.
Bryce and Kane’s house was a ten-bedroom Georgian, and we didn’t even attempt the first four doors because of the sounds we could hear from the corridor.
Kit led me toward the stairs, but I hesitated, tugging him to a stop. The upstairs rooms were bigger, tending to attract group activities.
“Those rooms will be full.”
“I know,” he growled, glancing at a semi-private nook in the hallway. I could do a little better than that.
I took the lead this time, pulling Kit through the kitchen—where some highly unsanitary things were happening on the counter—and through a discreet side door that led down a couple of steps.
“A laundry room?” Kit asked doubtfully, hand tightening around mine ever so slightly.
“It’s a very nice laundry room,” I pointed out. “It’s got custom cabinets and everything.”
Kit gave me a withering look, his free hand moving to his waistband to adjust himself.
“You deserve better than a laundry fuck, Margot.”
I paused, frowning. “What if I want a laundry fuck?”
I wasn’t twenty anymore, and I’d definitely be feeling it in my lower back tomorrow, but there was somethingverysexy about fucking in such a mundane, semi-uncomfortable setting. Like the sex was just soworth itthat the location didn’t matter.
It was the total opposite of my nest, too, which helped me keep things straight in my head that I couldn’t afford to get confused.
Kit groaned, glancing between me and the stretch of granite counter that covered the washer and dryer, far more conflicted than I expected any alpha presented with a wet and willing omega to be.
Had I given him the impression that I was precious? If I needed soft blankets and gentle words every time I wanted to get railed, I’d visit one of the dens and hire a professional alpha to coo in my ear while he tended my cunt.
I pulled my hand free of Kit’s, putting a little extra swing in my hips as I strutted over to the counter and made eye contact with him as I turned and boosted myself up. My heels immediately clicked against the plastic window of the washing machine, and I made a show of adjusting the top of my dress, fussing with my cleavage as Kit’s breathing grew increasingly heavy.
There was no bigger threat to me than an alpha on the edge of control, and yet there was also no bigger turn-on. Being an omega was like being a fragile fluffy bunny with a hard-on for slavering wolves.
With an exaggerated sigh, I parted my thighs and slipped my hand between my legs. “I guess I’ll just finish what you started then.”
Kit was on me within seconds, a growl echoing in the small tiled space. “Fuck, Margot. Tell me you want a nice comfy bed and some mood lighting. Somewhere you’re not leaning up against a cold, hard splashback.”
I gave him a wicked smile, shifting my dress a little higher. “I’m an omega. I could always benefit from a splashback.”
Kit’s eyes darkened, his hands sliding beneath my dress, knocking mine out of the way in the process. He found the sides of my knickers instantly, giving them a hard enough tug that I would have slid off the machine if he wasn’t standing between my thighs.
His position also meant he couldn’t get the fabric all the way down, and it was creating a lace prison just above my knees that he was in no hurry to free me from.
“Yourscent,” Kit groaned, leaning in to nip at my lower lip. “Like the richest vanilla cake and great sex, wrapped into one. It seems a crime to cover this up, Margot. A fucking cruelty.”
I hummed, letting my fingers trace the bulging muscles of his biceps before drifting down to his veiny exposed forearms. “It’s distracting. Better for everyone if I only break out the cake-fucking smells on special occasions.”
I wasn’t even sure he was listening. Kit nosed at my neck and shoulders, grumbling with displeasure even as he pushed my dress up to my waist.Alpha nonsense. The scentshield lotion on my skin would be bothering him.
Too bad.
There was no hiding the scent of slick, and I refused to live without sex, but other than that, my scent had been banished to the dungeon of expensive de-scenters, never to be whiffed again.
Kit took a small step back, finally dragging my knickers off and stuffing them in his pocket, the move startling a full-blowngulpout of me, frog-style.
His gaze dropped, a smug smirk transforming his features.
