Page 52 of Scheme
Me: I’m meant to be working, but I haven’t got that far yet. Maybe I’ll book a massage first.
My phone rang instantly, and I was so surprised that I nearly dropped it.
“Hello?” I said hesitantly. Surely, he’d hit the call icon by accident.
“Are you at home?”
“…Yes?”
“I’m on my way.”
The call clicked off, and I stared down at my phone in shock. And then the panic set in because I was fresh out of the shower, with my hair in a drying wrap and my skin pink from exfoliating, and I definitely hadn’t drawn my eyebrows on yet.
Shit.
I ripped out the hair wrap, tossing it somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom as I rushed to my room, yanking a pair of loose shorts and a black tank top out of the drawer and dropping my robe so I could put a bra on. There was a slouchy cardigan around here somewhere that I could pull over the top of my casual loungewear. That would look semi put-together, right? Very effortless comfort, I just happened to have this very flattering, matching outfit lying around.
Maybe I should dry my hair first?Yes, that was the priority. I didn’t have time to fix my whole face, but I could at least hide behind a fluffy mane of hair—
I froze at the knock on the door.Mydoor, not the main door downstairs that led to both flats.
“Kit?” I called hesitantly, heading back into the living area and pulling the wet strands of hair over one shoulder.
“It’s me.” Kit’s voice rumbled through the door, rough with impatience in a way that I probably shouldn’t have found so attractive. “Mrs Clarkson let me in.”
Good of her, I thought wryly. Most of the time, it was a boon having beta neighbours—their scents were inoffensively mild, and they didn’t fuck like feral beasts at all hours of the day—but the fact that they thought it was totally fine to let some rando alpha off the street in wasn’t ideal.
Then again, Kit wasn’t quite a rando alpha. He’d already charmed them by the sounds of it.
Since I could hardly leave him out there while I spent half an hour drying my hair, I conceded defeat and pulled the door open, bracing myself for him to recoil in disgust or at the very least, do a double take before schooling his expression into something polite.
Except, I doubted he got a look at my face at all since he was on me before the lock on the door even clicked into place. I found myself scrambling to grab his shoulders, cursing the straps of his backpack that were in the way, my legs wrapping automatically around his hips to get myself upright as he turned us, pressing me against the door and plunging his tongue between my parted lips.
“Need you,” Kit mumbled against my lips, gripping my ass and rocking his erection against the growing damp patch in the gusset of my shorts. “Fuck, can’t stop thinking about you. Been losing my mind.”
He was tugging at the waistband, annoyed that they weren’t coming off despite the fact that he’d been the one to haul me off the ground and encourage my legs up around his waist.
With a growl of frustration that morphed into an approving groan, Kit’s hand slid up one leg of my shorts, instantly finding the slick that was seeping through my underwear.
Thanks, vagina. Way to play it cool.
“You need me too, omega?” he rasped, delivering a gentle nip to my lower lip, careful not to break the skin.
It was a sex question. A heat-of-the-moment, throwaway, this-means-nothing question. And yet…
And yet.
“Put me down so I can take my shorts off,” I demanded breathlessly, avoiding his terrifying question.
Shit, we were going to have to do this out here on my tiny two-person loveseat. There was no way I was inviting Kit into my nest. I didn’t want to, and he’d probably expire from panic if I did.
I panted with a mortifying level of enthusiasm as Kit leaned his weight harder against me, rubbing my clit at just the right speed with just the right pressure through my thin cotton knickers. Furiously bucking and writhing, the door banging loudly in its frame behind me, I came with a shudder and a gush of slick, slumping forward against Kit’s chest.
“Such a good, sweet omega.” Kit’s voice started out a sinuous purr, though his sentences grew more broken and his tone more raspy with each passing moment. “You come so pretty. Fucking love the way you soak my fingers. Going to soak my knot now, aren’t you?”
Knot. Yes. Knot.
I made a breathy noise of agreement, burrowing my face further against him as he moved to the sofa, deftly undoing his trousers and kicking them off as he walked. The moment he set me on my feet, I was shoving down my shorts and knickers, desperate to get the sticky, wet fabric off my skin, before spinning around and kneeling on the sofa, propping my elbows on the back and shielding my face with my hair.
