Read Omega's Unexpected: MM Werewolf MPREG Romance (Lucky Book 1) Online
Authors: Fox Hawkins,Britannia Bloom
Omega's Unexpected: MM Werewolf MPREG Romance (Lucky Book 1)
OMEGA'S UNEXPECTED
LUCKY #1
MM Werewolf Romance MPREG
By Fox Hawkins
& Britannia Bloom
Copyright © 2016 Fox Hawkins & Britannia Bloom
All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Stock Photography
Credit: www.Bigstock.com
Credit: www.freerangestock.com
STEAMY SNEAK PREVIEW
In the past, they've only required a little prompting from Noah, something to push them over that spellbound edge, toppling them into gloriously carnal oblivion.
Noah flips himself over in his nest and props himself up on his knees, and he's unable to hold his weight up with his arms, they quake and give beneath him when he attempts so, and he simply allows his chest to fall to the cushioned surface beneath him. He's turned so the alpha can see
everything
, there is nothing that is concealed and Noah's welcoming the alpha to drink the sight of him in.
Presenting triggers a reaction that's quite extraordinary in alphas—they become wholly animalistic, feral almost, driven by the biological imperative to impregnate an omega, even if that is a physical impossibility in this situation. The alpha doesn't remember that though, and neither does Noah.
Noah's resigned himself to never having a mate.
It's good, he thinks. Freeing, even. He's not a pitiful charity case. He may be packless, he may be childless, but that's not the be-all-end-all of an omega. He works, keeps his head down, and is content to spend his days indoors practicing the violin and translating books as a side job for a human friend. He makes more than enough to get by, in fact, and he should be happy with that.
He shouldn't need to feel compelled to live up to unreasonable standards brought about by his werewolf nature. He shouldn't have to be ashamed of the fact that he surrounds himself with human company—said friends having no idea what, or who, he is. He shouldn't feel constant and erratic paranoia that his family will find him and drag him back to the manor, tutting and scolding him for running away and thrusting him into an arranged, political mateship.
If they only knew he spent his heats with strangers
…
Noah hugs his peacoat jacket closer to his body, rubbing at his forearms and cursing his body's natural inclination towards coolness. His heat is starting and even
that's
not enough to combat the late winter chill, despite the fact that underneath the fabric he's sweating enough that his shirt is sticking to his skin.
Just a couple more blocks, is all. Just a couple more blocks and he'll arrive at the only omega sanctuary in the city, run by werewolves alone—betas and older omegas mostly—and protected from the roaming alpha packs via a treaty over a hundred years old. He'll go there, be set up to nest in his own room, and be tended to by a vetted alpha who's been confirmed unable to fertilize his eggs.
The main tool with which alphas control omegas and civilized society has defeated it. An omega who cannot slake a heat is an omega that will not live very long on its own, mateless.
The service is, admittedly,
expensive
. Supply and demand, after all.
Noah sees the familiar building and instinctively relaxes, his muscles uncoiling as he recognizes the place that will ease his mounting pain. Right now his heat is only a strengthening sweet scent and tension knotting his lower stomach, but soon it will drown him with the mindless pressure of an ocean and by then he'll be fed, hydrated, and writhing naked and needy in a nest of blankets.
He's looking forward to it, actually.
Stepping up to the door, Noah presses the buzzer.
"Hello? This is the OHC, do you have an appointment?" Comes a woman's voice.
"Noah Young," he replies, a little breathless.
A pause. Then, "Please enter." And the door whirrs with the sound of the lock being deactivated as he grips the handle and lets himself inside.
The waiting room is empty save for one other—an omega—who glances up at him and then away, their face going red. Or perhaps it was already red. Either way, they look far younger than himself and Noah can sympathize with their embarrassment.
This building is practically a reverse brothel.
The cold from outside slides off of him as he grows accustomed to the temperature of the building. It's perfectly heated, just right for the omegas who usually occupy it, and even as Noah steps into the elevator and selects one of the underground floors—at this stage, having visited the OHC with such frequency that there's a specific room reserved for him—he doesn't grow any cooler while the elevator carries him.
He likes it here, he feels safe. Which, Noah supposes, is the intention as the OHC caters to omegas when they're at their most vulnerable. A panicked omega in heat is an utter nightmare and no one wants to have to deal with that. But there's a tranquility that settles over him, even with his heat imminent and anxiously unfurling under his skin.
The knowledge that he won't have to battle through the torment of a heat without an alpha is deliciously comforting.
When he arrives he finds that his room has remained similar and he's always been appreciative of the small, 'omega' touches in the décor of the room, like the vase of lilies set on the coffee table and the plush softness of the carpet underfoot. It won't matter when Noah is in the thick of his heat, he won't even notice, but it's thoughtful all the same.
There's a curved alcove in the far wall that's intended for a nest, though omegas can be finicky creatures, rather akin to cats, and there's a great many spaces to choose from to appeal to all tastes. Noah himself prefers to bundle himself in the alcove, building himself a dense, cushioned nest that the alpha will pin him into, making Noah a slave to every kind of exquisite sensation imaginable as their scents mingle and linger in the narrowed space.
It's limited to one room, save for a bathroom, but there are seats and a dining table surrounded by a small kitchen that's stocked with nutritional foods, to keep both Noah and the alpha's energy replenished. And, in a bin off to the side, there are blankets and pillows and fleeces cut from every kind of fabric imaginable.
All in all, it's ideal for a heat—luxurious, even.
The moment Noah starts to dig through the available nesting material his instinct kicks in, full force. He's not gentle as he yanks objects out of the neat pile, grabbing this and that and taking it over to his preferred location. A cushioned roll for the base, pillows for comfort and variety, thick, deliriously cushy duvets, soft blankets to strewn about as he pleases it. If paradise were something an omega could readily envision, it would be a nest made to one's individual preference.
It's almost heart wrenching to tear himself away from his work but he does, the task completed, and as much as he wants to flop in and enjoy it he knows that will be the end of him. He won't move until he strips and once he's stripped he won't leave.
So Noah goes to the kitchen area while he's able, the corner of the room mostly prepared for post-coital use. The alphas aren't necessarily doting, but they do well to feed their omega partners during this time, since after a heat-soaked romp one or both parties tend to fall into a short sleep.
As he prepares himself a light snack he muses that that must be something meant to ensure fertilization and coupling—an alpha that sleeps through its refractory period is an alpha that won't stray once awake.
Noah forces himself to take vitamins and drink a full cup of water before he allows himself to return to his nest. He's already sweating heavily, the room feeling too hot despite it probably being somewhat cool, and hydration is important.
He's undoing the buttons of his shirt by the time he reaches it, peeling the fabric off of his skin with a relieved sigh that has him shoving out of the rest of his clothes. He sinks into the nest and mourns that they don't offer toys here, but he's already being given an alpha. That's more than enough.
Time becomes a dizzy, blurry creature as Noah lies there, the buildup causing him to writhe as his body goes into overdrive, producing slick at an increasing level. It becomes agonizing, the need to have something fill him, and he whines as he pries himself open with his own fingers, teases himself with the slim digits, and cries because it's
not enough
.
A sound plays—a melody of notes. Noah goes rigid with excitement, recognizing it.
An alpha is about to enter the room
.
The whir of the door opening signals its arrival.
The scent is always the first feature of the alpha that Noah latches on to, breathing in deep and suffusing himself with the earthy, smoky embers of alpha pheromones.
With his heat addling his brain, all alphas in close proximity smell utterly divine, but this alpha in particular has Noah keening for the stranger, plunging his fingers deeper inside himself, shameless and wanton as he arches his hips. He can
taste
the alpha on his tongue, the flavor addictive and decadently rich.
He's hovering in the doorway, the alpha, not yet reacting to the omega that is
painfully
ready for him, offering himself as though upon a platter meant for the alpha, and Noah must have infused the entirety of the room with the potent, lusty yearning of his scent, but he's known alphas to behave like this before. They sink into a trance-like state, overwhelmed and unable to move even if their every instinct urges them to.
In the past, they've only required a little prompting from Noah, something to push them over that spellbound edge, toppling them into gloriously carnal oblivion.
Noah flips himself over in his nest and props himself up on his knees, and he's unable to hold his weight up with his arms, they quake and give beneath him when he attempts so, and he simply allows his chest to fall to the cushioned surface beneath him. He's turned so the alpha can see
everything,
there is nothing that is concealed and Noah's welcoming the alpha to drink the sight of him in.
Presenting triggers a reaction that's quite extraordinary in alphas—they become wholly animalistic, feral almost, driven by the biological imperative to impregnate an omega, even if that is a physical impossibility in this situation. The alpha doesn't remember that though, and neither does Noah.
It does the trick, oh so perfectly, and the alpha bounds towards Noah, slamming the door behind him and stripping clumsily and uncaring as he approaches. He's answering Noah's call, drawn to a siren like a sailor to his watery grave.
Noah can only hear him, he can't see him with his face turned away, but the alpha's determined steps and powerful presence behind him has the omega panting with the sheer amount of
electric
anticipation that's searing through his body, and slick drips down his thigh, ensuring his body is more than prepared to be filled.
As much as Noah doesn't need an alpha for his day-to-day life, that doesn't stop the moan that crashes out of him at just the male's touch, large hands immediately landing on his hips and hoisting him up in a bruising crush that has his hole clenching and eager. And then he's
speared
—the alpha plunges in—and,
god
, he's large. Noah always thinks that, of course. He rarely masturbates on his own. But this alpha's stretched him wide and he can feel his girth, hot and twitching, and Noah wonders at how his body can even accommodate the thing that's inside of him.
The OHC really
does
provide their very, very best.
There's no romantic lingering, no idling, just the heated grunt of an alpha voice that sends tingles up Noah's spine and the sudden, immediate pistoning of a cock, thorough and strong, that jerks the omega's body and has him loud and scrambling for purchase.
It must be his heat, surely, but that doesn't stop him from believing that the other male fills him perfectly, that he wants to be mates with him, carry his children, submit to him, each stroke raking through Noah with perfection, each friction tug dragging euphoria through him as it smoothes by his prostate and rams the internal entrance to his womb.
Noah's crying, he can feel—perhaps drooling even, choking on himself as he allows the alpha to control the entire encounter, body too weakened and delighted to do more than
be
. But the alpha is hardly deterred and it soon becomes wildly apparent that he intends to take the omega in this position, which causes cotton-fluff images of them nestled together after to drift into Noah's mind even if he knows he'll immediately fall asleep as soon as orgasm hits him.
As though his thoughts were neon-lit signs, the alpha does him the honor of reaching down and grabbing his lesser cock in calloused hands, roughly jerking him which is something many of his partners don't have the mind to do at first when they're initially overcome.
Noah lasts all of five seconds before he spills, his body tightens, and he wins another velvet-gravel noise from the alpha at his back that heightens his orgasm all the more. He's never felt this beside himself before, he thinks. He's never been
this
pleasured.
It doesn't even feel like he's in his own body anymore.
The alpha chases after him, falling down that same hill, and Noah can
feel
the burst of fluid inside of him, lava hot and overwhelming, and he knows they'll stay together for however long, until the omega's so full of alpha fluids he can't hold them any longer.