The Raven’s Alpha (Nature’s Embrace #1)

Chapter Six

Eddy Elwood

As I watch Darcy burst out of his mansion, his piercing eyes scanning the grounds searching for me, I feel a pang of longing in my chest. my bear wants to run to him, to throw my arms around him and tell him everything is going to be okay. My bear is screaming at me, urging me to make things right and to go to Darcy. I know that if I go after him now, he'd just react impulsively, without thinking through the consequences.

That's why I left the gift box on his doorstep. It’s a symbol of everything I am offering him - my love, my loyalty, my trust. And I knew that if he takes the time to really think about what I’m giving him, he'd understand that this was something real, something worth fighting for. So, I wait patiently, watching as he disappears into the darkness of the mansion, hoping that he'll come back to me soon and make the right decision.

Darcy’s omega appearance was marred by messy hair and rumpled clothes. His eyes looked tired, with dark circles under them, and his usually radiant scent was dulled by sadness and exhaustion.

‘You caused that,’ My bear reminds me.

“I know, I know. I’m working on fixing things. It’s just... it’s not easy to undo the damage I’ve done. I can't just rush in there, expecting everything to be fine. I need to give him space... time to process what's happened. We'll have him when the time is right, I promise. ”

My bear's annoyance is palpable, and he blocks out our shared connection. It's a rare occurrence, and I know it's because he doesn't fully comprehend my reasoning. My bear has waited for his fated just as long as I have, patiently standing by my side through every snub or insult directed at us by an omega.

The connection between my bear and me is complex. We're two halves of a single whole, our minds and bodies intertwined. He doesn't always see eye-to-eye with me, and he's not afraid to express his disagreement. Yet, despite his independence, the human part of my brain remains dominant, the ultimate arbiter of our decisions.

From the moment I was born, my bear has been by my side, a constant companion in my solitude. Despite my loneliness, he's never judged me for not settling for a random omega, never pressured me to mate with someone who wasn't meant to be. He knew our fated was out there, waiting for us, and he's patiently stood by me as we waited for that moment to arrive.

I've been lingering here for too long, and I know I can't stay forever. Despite my reluctance to leave, I've grown restless, and the scent of Darcy's euphoria is starting to waft from the building, teasing me like a whispered promise. It's only a matter of time before he emerges, and I'm not sure I'm ready to face the music yet.

As I trudge back home, my body is drained, but my mind is racing with anticipation. I have no idea when Darcy will finally come for me, but I can't help but hope it's soon. The suspense is eating away at me, making me feel restless and impatient.

I spend a couple of hours immersing myself in my cross-stitch pattern, carefully stitching the bakery's logo, a scrumptious cupcake, and a steaming coffee cup. This design is one I've been working on for days, and I'm hoping it'll become part of my prized collection for the bakery. As I thread the needle and weave the fabric, I find my mind begins to calm, and my fingers move with a soothing rhythm. It's a meditative process, one that helps me quiet my thoughts and focus on the present.

When I finish stitching the final thread of my pattern, I notice the darkness outside has crept in and the embers of the fire have dwindled to ash. The cabin, my sanctuary, is bathed in the warm glow of flickering candles. Every detail, from the plush rugs to the vintage decor, was carefully curated to create a sense of maximal cosiness without sacrificing a sense of calm. I wander around the room, my eyes taking in the familiar comforts, my mind begins to wander to what Darcy would think of this space. Would he appreciate the way the soft light casts a warm glow on the worn leather armchair? Would he notice the subtle blend of textures and colours that I've deliberately chosen to create a sense of harmony?

I imagine Darcy's presence in this space, I wonder if he would appreciate the cosy atmosphere of the fireplace, the plush comfort of the sofa, or the warm glow of the candles. Would he enjoy curling up with a blanket, watching me cook dinner, and feeling the warmth of the kitchen? I picture him sitting beside me, his eyes shining with contentment as he savours the aroma of freshly baked bread. And then, my mind wanders to the bedroom, where my massive bed would be the perfect sanctuary for him to build his nest. I would scour the stores for the softest fabrics, the plushest pillows, and the most comfortable blankets to make his nest a haven. I would buy him whatever materials he needed or wanted to make it his own, to create a cosy little world that would be his own personal sanctuary

As I daydream about the possibility of being with Darcy, reality comes crashing back in. I gaze out the window at the rolling hills, and my mind wanders to the grand estate that’s his home. A sprawling mansion, hidden away from the world, with its own private gardens and turrets. I can barely imagine what it would be like to live in such a place. And then, the thought hits me like a cold splash of water - Darcy would never leave his beloved home. Why would he, when he has everything he could possibly want right at his fingertips? I would be the one who would have to adjust to a new life, not him. The thought of leaving my cosy cabin, my peaceful routine, and my simple way of life is daunting. I can only imagine how overwhelming it would be for me to adapt to the opulence and extravagance of his mansion.

I push aside the doubts and negativity, refusing to let them consume me. If Darcy doesn’t want to leave his mansion, then I wouldn't mind going to him. I'd miss my cabin, my routine, my sense of freedom - but if it means being with Darcy, I'd be willing to make those sacrifices. I think about the sacrifices he's already made for me, the way he's shown me that he's willing to put our relationship above his own desires. I realise that I've been so focused on my own needs and desires that I haven't stopped to consider what he might want. I take a deep breath, letting go of my fears and doubts. I know that no matter where we are, Darcy is worth it. He's worth every sacrifice, every adjustment, every moment of uncertainty. I feel a sense of calm wash over me as I come to this realisation. Maybe leaving my cabin isn't the end of the world - maybe it's just the beginning of a new chapter in our lives together.

I ease into the morning commute, the soft hum of the radio providing a gentle soundtrack to my drive. The roads are still quiet, with only a few stragglers sharing the pavement. I pull up to the bakery just as the sun is starting to rise, casting a golden glow over the sleepy streets. As I step out of the truck, I notice the other business owners are already bustling around, preparing for the early morning rush. I exchange a quick wave with Mr. Harrot, the butcher, but don't linger for a chat. Instead, lost in thought, I make my way towards the front steps of Grizzlies. That's when I see him - sitting on the stoop, waiting for me. As I approach, he looks up from his perch and flashes me a warm smile. My heart skips a beat as I take in the sight of Darcy, his piercing eyes sparkling with amusemen t

I blink in surprise as I approach the door, my voice barely above a whisper. “Darcy?” I ask, a hint of delight creeping into my tone. “What are you doing out here? It's freezing!” I try to sound gentle, but a hint of worry creeps into my words. I don't want my fated love to freeze to death on my doorstep.

I grasp his hand, the instant our fingers touch, a jolt of electricity runs through me, making my breath catch in my throat. I try to stifle a gasp, but it escapes me nonetheless, a soft hiss that betrays my surprise. Darcy's eyes meet mine, his gaze shining with amusement, as if he anticipated this reaction.

I clear my throat, trying to appear nonchalant, and paste a bright smile on my face. Darcy's eyes seem to sparkle as he returns my smile, and he holds my hand for a moment longer before releasing it. He bends down to pick up the brown paper bag, and I recognize the logo of the bakery down the street. “Ah, I know you have your own bakery,” he says, his tone casual, “but I thought I'd make us some breakfast.” He shrugs, his movements easy and relaxed.

Darcy's face flushes with a becoming blush, his high cheekbones brightening with a gentle rosy glow. The scattered freckles across his cheeks seem to dance with the subtle warmth of his skin, and I'm struck by the urge to explore the delicate texture of his skin with my fingertips. The caveman in me stirs, wondering what it would be like to graze my lips against the gentle rise of his cheekbones, to see if the freckles would yield to the soft pressure of my tongue.

Darcy's feet shift restlessly as he stands there, and I'm suddenly aware that I've been staring at him for far too long. “That's really thoughtful of you,” I say, attempting to break the spell. “I usually just have some toast before I open up shop.” I try to sound casual, but my voice comes out a little breathy, and I can't help but wonder if he's noticed the way my eyes have been fixed on him.

I grab the keys from my pocket and quickly unlock the door, pushing it open to reveal the warm, cosy interior of my shop. I usher Darcy inside, trying to ignore the adorable way his body moves as he shivers from the sudden change in temperature. I catch myself wanting to wrap my arms around him, I force myself to hold back.

“Coffee?” I ask.

“That sounds amazing, thank you.”

I nod my head and flip the switch, the room is bathed in a warm, golden glow. I make my way to the coffee-nook, the soft hum of the machines providing a gentle background melody. As I work on our drinks, I tune in to the sounds of Darcy making breakfast- the crinkle of wrapping paper, the clink of utensils on a plate, and the quiet rustle of his movements. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, mingling with the aroma of toast and perhaps something sweet.

When I turn around, I have to make a conscious effort to keep my grip on the cups firm, lest they slip from my hands and shatter on the floor. The sight that greets me is a pleasant one, however. Darcy has shed his layers, revealing a pair of dark wash jeans that fit him like a glove, and the soft, cable-knit pullover jumper that I sent him yesterday. The jumper looks better on him than I remembered, and I find myself smiling as I take in the relaxed, rumpled appearance of his morning attire.

“Wow, Darcy," I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I take in the sight of him in my jumper.

He looks up at me, his eyes uncertain. "Too much?" he asks, his voice tinged with self-doubt.

I shake my head, feeling a flutter in my chest. "No, not too much at all," I say, trying to sound calm and composed. "You look... beautiful. You always look beautiful, but there's something about seeing you in my clothes that makes me feel... happy." I trail off, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks .

Darcy's expression softens, and he looks at me with a warm, gentle smile. "Thank you, Eddy," he says, his voice low and husky. He takes a step closer to me, his eyes never leaving mine.

I take a step back, trying to play it cool, but I can feel my face burning with embarrassment. "Goddess, I'm rambling like an idiot," I mutter under my breath.

Darcy chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're not rambling," he says, his voice low and reassuring. "I think you're being very sweet."

I feel my heart skip another beat as I realise that he's being sweet back. I look away, trying to compose myself, but I can't help sneaking another glance at him. He's still wearing my jumper, and it looks like it was made for him.

I take a deep breath and try to focus on the present moment. We're standing in the kitchen, surrounded by warmth and comfort. It's just a normal morning, but somehow it feels like so much more.

As I pass him his coffee, our fingers brush and I feel a spark of electricity. We sit down to eat, and the silence between us is like a warm blanket. I take a bite of my sandwich and savour the flavour, but my mind is racing with all the things I want to say. I want to tell him how I've been feeling lately, how his presence in my life has made me feel alive again. I want to ask him about his day, about his plans for the future. And most of all, I want to touch him, to feel his skin against mine.

"You told me to come and find you when I was ready," he says, his voice low. "And I'm finally ready." He shrugs his slender shoulders, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "I feel like I have to explain some things to you before we go any further," he says, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Is now a good time?" he asks, glancing around the empty cafe.

I'm supposed to be starting on prep, but all I can think about is getting out of here and spending time with my mate. I don't want to spend the day sweating over hot trays and dealing with demanding customers. I want to spend hours talking about our dreams and aspirations, and finding out what makes him tick. I want to laugh and joke together, to feel like we're truly connecting. But for now, I'm stuck here, stuck in this mundane routine that feels like it's suffocating me

"I probably should make a start on the prep work for the morning," I say, my voice a mix of guilt.

"How about I come back later and...?" he starts to say, but I cut him off, my hand waving dismissively. "No, no, stay here," I say, trying to sound more convincing. "You don't have to do any work, but you can drink some coffees and people watch.”

As I watch him hesitate, I feel a pang of desperation in my chest as I try to think of a way to keep him here. I haven’t had nearly enough time with him yet. Sure, he could come back later, but I don’t want that. I want him here with me, now, where I can share my passions and hobbies with him.

Darcy's gaze roams the bakery, his eyes landing on the cupcake display case. He glances over at me, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Can I try my hand at decorating some cupcakes?" he asks, his enthusiasm infectious. I smile, feeling a sense of warmth and connection. His eyes sparkle with excitement as he considers the possibility of decorating cupcakes.

“Sure thing, darling.” I feel a flutter in my chest, I realise that I wouldn't take the term of endearment back even if I could. It was too real, too true. And so, I let the word hang in the air, hoping that he could hear my sincerity.

Darcy's eyes flick towards mine, his cheeks flushing with a gentle pink as he processes the affectionate term. I grin back at him, feeling a sense of connection and companionship as I look at his flushed face. He takes my hand, and I help him carry his stuff into my office, careful not to jostle him too much as we navigate the narrow hallway. As we step into the cosy room, I breathe a sigh of relief, feeling like we're finally settling into a peaceful space. I give his hand a gentle squeeze, grateful for this quiet moment with him.

We walk into the kitchen and he flashes a shy, endearing smile, his cheeks still flushed from the nickname. I lead him through the morning's tasks, showing him where everything is stored and how to expertly measure out the ingredients. The sweet scent of vanilla wafts through the air as we work, and I feel a sense of comfort and routine wash over me. As we finish up, I take Darcy's hand and lead him to the counter where we'll be baking. "Let me show you how we make these cupcakes," I say, my voice warm and encouraging, "and then you can take over the decorating.”

I slide open the worn cover of my beloved recipe binder, the pages rustle softly as I flip through them until I land on the one with the perfect cupcake recipe. I know I could digitise my recipes, but there's something special about holding these dog-eared pages in my hands, feeling the weight of years of memories and trials baked into each recipe. I've grown attached to this binder, not just because it holds my favourite recipes, but because it's a tangible connection to my past, a reminder of all the times I've cooked and shared with loved ones.

I arrange the ingredients and utensils on the counter, the soft clinking of the mixing bowls and the rustle of the recipe pages create a soothing melody as I step back to let him work. His brow furrows slightly as he reads the recipe, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he commits each measurement to memory. A small crease forms between his eyebrows as he focuses on the task at hand, his eyes darting back and forth between the recipe and the ingredients. As he reads, his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, a tiny flicker of nervous energy that belies his focus on the task at hand. He looks endearingly awkward, like a gangly teenager trying to find his footing in a new world – and yet, there's something undeniably charming about it.

I could spend all day observing him, watching the way his face lights up with focus and concentration as he works. But I know there's still work to be done before the morning rush begins. I pull out my phone and the opening chords of 'Welcome to Paradise' fill the room, the crunching guitars and driving beat creating a sense of energy and anticipation that seems to vibrate through the air.

I find myself thinking deeper about my mate, it's just with his striking appearance - the jet-black hair and perfectly manicured nails that always seem to be on point - that I had a preconceived notion of him as someone who was a bit of a loner, someone who kept to himself and didn't really connect with others. But as I've gotten to know him better, I've discovered that he's actually friendly and easy-going, with a sunny personality that shines through despite his grungy look. Those earlier thoughts are all on me, and it's a reminder that I shouldn't be so quick to judge people based on appearances. After all, who am I to judge? As someone who's been judged harshly by others for being an alpha, I should know better than anybody else not to make assumptions about someone based on their surface-level characteristics.

While we wait for the cupcakes to bake, I take a few minutes to tidy up the workspace and prep the display cases for the morning rush. By the time Darcy's cupcakes are done, I'm just about ready to open the bakery doors. I show him where I keep all the decorating items, giving him free reign on how he wants to make them look. As he pulls out a few piping bags from the cupboard, I'm impressed by how easily he finds them, like he's done this a thousand times before. He chooses his icing colours with care, selecting just the right shades to create a beautiful design. I'm glad I always have a steady supply of icing on hand, knowing that it will be easier for me to fulfil any special orders that come in throughout the day .

I open the front door and I'm greeted by the warm rays of sunlight that illuminates the display cases and makes the freshly baked bread smell even more enticing. I take a moment to appreciate the peaceful atmosphere of the bakery before the morning rush begins, savouring the quiet before the chaos. I leave Darcy to start decorating and I turn my attention to the music, adjusting it to a gentle background hum that will create a calming atmosphere for our customers without overpowering their conversation. I switch to a soft piano melody, hoping it will help create a sense of tranquillity in the bakery that will help our customers relax and unwind.

As the morning flies by, I find myself lost in the beauty of Darcy's creations. The cupcakes are a feast for the eyes, with delicate swirls of frosting and intricate piping designs that make them look like tiny works of art. My heart swells with pride and admiration as I gaze at the finished cupcakes, feeling a sense of ownership and satisfaction that comes from seeing my mates vision come to life through Darcy's talent. Of course, I know that Darcy won't be perfect at everything, but so far, I'm thoroughly impressed.

I take a moment to catch my breath and survey the aftermath of our busy morning. I glance around the cosy bakery and wonder how I'd ever gotten along without this place. I watch as Darcy moves around the shop, chatting with customers and making sure everyone leaves with a smile on their face. The small town's tight-knit community means that everyone knows each other's names, and I'm struck by how effortlessly Darcy interacts with the regulars. As I take a moment to relax, I'm left wondering what took us so long to meet in this small town where everyone seems to know each other.

Being an introvert, I tend to reserve my energy for the people and things that matter most to me, and that usually means saving my social reserves for the people closest to me. I'm not one for big crowds or loud social gatherings, but when I'm with people I care about, I find my energy levels surprisingly resilient. It's rare for me to venture out into the busy streets of Everlong, where the noise and chaos can be overwhelming. But meeting Darcy has been a gift, a reminder that there's still so much beauty and possibility in the world. I'm feeling a sense of gratitude and wonder that I've never felt before, as if Darcy has awakened a part of me that I never knew existed. As I get to know him better, I'm worried about whether he'll still be interested in me once he discovers the full extent of my alpha tendencies.

Darcy slides up next to me, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. His cheeks are flushed from the heat of the bakery, but also from the way he's been beaming with joy all day. He grins at me, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "I've had the best day ever. I haven’t felt this carefree in ages," he says, his voice full of enthusiasm. "I really appreciate you letting me hang out here today."

Darcy's hand wraps around mine, his touch sparking a jolt of electricity through our bond. Our shared reaction is a collective gasp, followed by a gentle moan from Darcy. The sounds we make are soft and intimate, but I struggle to keep my body from responding. My desire to connect with him on a deeper level is overwhelming, but I'm not sure we should take things further here, where we're not alone. I'll just have to wait until we're somewhere more private before I can give in to my urges.

“W-What time do you finish?” Darcy questions.

I take a moment to collect my thoughts before responding, "I usually stick around till late, finishing up the day's tasks and prepping for the next morning." But tonight, I'm not going to be able to stay late. I know that once I'm done, I'll want to spend some quiet time with Darcy - without the distractions of work hanging over us.

"Can I see you tonight?" I ask, trying to sound casual despite the excitement building inside me.

"Of course," Darcy replies with a smile. "Your place or mine? "

I shrug, feeling a little self-conscious. "I'm yours, whenever and wherever you want."

Darcy's eyes light up with amusement. "Good answer," he says, his voice low and husky. "I'll come to your place, what time works for you?"

I think for a moment before responding, "I'll be home at five-thirty."

Darcy glances at the clock hanging on the wall and nods thoughtfully. "Six sounds good to me," he says, his eyes shining brightly.

“Are you ok getting home? Do you want me to order you a taxi? Or I can close up shop for half an hour and drive you?” I’d carry him on my back and march through the frigid air if he wanted me to.

Darcy grabs my hand and pulls me towards the kitchen and out the back door. He strips off his clothes and I nearly choke on my tongue. Darcy reveals his smooth chest and soft abs. I'm struck speechless by the sight of him, my heart skipping a beat as I take in the delicate lines of his torso. My eyes linger on his toned physique, drinking in the sight of his smooth, creamy skin.

I pause, my feet rooted to the spot, as I struggle to resist the urge to reach out to him. I know that as soon as I touch him, I won't be able to let him go - and now isn't the time for that. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and focus on the task at hand.

Darcy turns around, his face turned towards me with a tender curve of his lips. But the softness of his eyes is quickly compromised by a spark of mischief igniting in his gaze. I'm acutely aware of the game he's playing, and I can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect.

I gaze back at him, my heart racing with anticipation. His eyes seem to burn with a quiet intensity, and I know exactly what he's after. I can sense the tension between us, like a live wire humming with electricity. A shiver runs down my spine and I can't help but wonder what will come next.

“Do you mind taking these back to your cabin for me?” he asks, as he nods towards the tangled mess of his shirt and pants. His voice is low and smooth, and I can't help but feel a flutter in my chest.

I'm torn between keeping my gaze fixed on his face and allowing my eyes to wander over his naked body. His eyes are locked on mine, and I don't want to come across as a creep, but it's hard to resist the temptation to take in the sight of him. He's smaller than I am, his body is toned with smooth, unblemished skin. As an omega, I was expecting him to be smaller everywhere, but the thing swinging between his legs is a pleasant surprise. It's hard to describe, but there's something about the way it moves, that makes me clench.

I'm trying to keep my eyes focused on his face, but my gaze keeps drifting down to his body. His dick is pointing up towards his belly and it’s hard. I can't help but wonder what it would be like to taste him, to experience the same rush of pleasure that I get from his scent. The thought of dropping to my knees and licking him makes my heart race with excitement. I'm trying to resist the temptation, but my mouth is watering at the prospect of exploring his body.

“Grizzly?”

I choke back a cough and stammer, trying to cover up my embarrassment. “Uh, yeah? Sorry, what?” I manage to mumble, my eyes darting away from Darcy's face. I'm mortified at being caught staring at him. I try to play it cool, but my face is burning with heat.

Darcy's amused expression only makes me feel more awkward. He raises an eyebrow and flashes me a smirk, “Are you okay taking my clothes back with you?” he asks again, his voice dripping with amusement.

I nod, my eyes locked on Darcy as he approaches me with a stealthy pace. For a small guy, he exudes a sense of quiet confidence, his movements almost feline in their precision. It's unnerving, but not unpleasant. I'm used to omegas fawning all over me before scurrying away like they've been burned, but Darcy is different. He's stalking towards me like he owns me, his gaze never leaving mine. My dick is straining against my pants, reacting to the intensity of his gaze.

I fight to keep my eyelids from drooping as his lips brush against my chest, the gentle touch sending shivers down my spine. I'm annoyed with my own stupid t-shirt and apron for blocking the sensation of his mouth on my skin. The sweet scent of him wafts up to me, filling my lungs with its warmth. When he pulls back, I force my eyes open, and instead of Darcy's face looking back at me, I'm met with the dark, pointed features of my little raven. He's standing in the snow, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and for a moment, I'm disoriented.

He lets out a soft squawk and springs up from the floor, landing on my shoulder with a gentle thud. I feel the soft brush of feathers as he settles into the crook of my neck. He pitter-patters down my arm, his hooked claws digging gently into my skin as he searches for a comfortable spot. When he reaches my forearm, he pauses, his eyes bright with curiosity. I reach out with my other hand, hesitantly stroking his head with my fingers. His feathers are softer than I expected, like the finest velvet, and he tilts his head into the touch, releasing a contented sigh.

My little raven's head turns, his eyes drinking me in as he savours the moment for a few seconds before he lets out a triumphant cheep and takes to the skies. I watch, mesmerised, as he soars away from me, his wings beating with a rhythmic whoosh as he gains speed and altitude. The wind ruffles his feathers, and his dark silhouette becomes a fleeting shadow against the bright blue sky, leaving me to feel the sudden emptiness of his absence.

I've always thought the notion of fated mates was romanticised, a myth perpetuated by fairy tales and ancient legends, but as I stand here, my heart racing with an intensity that's both exhilarating and terrifying, I'm beginning to understand the whispers of those who've spoken of this phenomenon. The feeling in my chest is like nothing I've ever experienced before - a deep, primal connection that defies explanation. It's as if my very soul has awakened, responding to the presence of this little raven in a way that's both beautiful and overwhelming. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm both thrilled and terrified by the prospect of what this might mean for my future.

I'm drenched in sweat by the time the last customer leaves, my body tense with pent-up energy. I can feel my bear's growl of frustration building inside me, his voice echoing through my mind like a constant drumbeat: 'Hurry up, hurry up! Don't keep our mate waiting!'

My heart is racing, my senses on high alert, as I count down the minutes until I can finally leave this chaos behind and get to the one place I've been thinking about all day.

As I reach for a bag to collect Darcy's clothes, my eyes inadvertently scan the pile, and that's when I see it - a frilly snippet of fabric peeking out from between the folds of his jeans. My gut tells me to look away, to respect his privacy, but my curiosity is already racing ahead, urging me to investigate. I try to resist the urge, telling myself it's none of my business, but my fingers seem to have a mind of their own. Before I know it, I'm gently tugging the fabric free, and my heart is racing with a mix of excitement and guilt.

I know nobody else is here, but my eyes still dart around the room and out the windows. When I’m sure I’m not going to be seen, I bring the panties to my face and shove my nose in the material. Huffing into the fabric, my knees nearly buckle from the sweet berry scent. “Oh Goddess.”

It’s wrong and if I weren’t so turned on, I’d scold myself for being such a freak. My body is burning up and I feel the perspiration starting to trickle down my spine. I need to stop, but I can’t bring myself to stop huffing. The material so soft and silky against my face. I don’t know much about designer clothes, but I do know these must be an expensive pair from the quality of the threads.

With the panties still pressed against my face, I drag my legs to the walk-in fringe and force my way inside. Unbuckling my belt and jeans, I pull my cock out and my back arches as I begin to pump my length. The sweet smell of Darcy is making me delirious. My vision is fading as pleasure pulses through my veins.

I continue to stroke my cock and think about Darcy. What would he think of me if he knew I was sniffing his underwear while jerking off? Would he call me disgusting? Would he be appalled at my behaviour?

Something in the back of my brain tells me that he wouldn’t find it weird, maybe he’d like the idea of me getting delirious on his scent.

I slam my eyes closed as my cock starts to grow, my knot starting to form as I get close to climax. With one last deep huff, I explode. Ropes of come spurting from the end of my cock and covering my fist. My eyes leak from the overwhelming pleasure, but I can’t stop my hand from stroking and squeezing.

The problem with knots is that they can be uncomfortable when they aren’t inside a person. The base of my cock is oversensitive and the cold air from the fridge is becoming slightly painful. With one last tug, I explode all over my fist again. A mix of a growl and a wail fly from my mouth.

I fear I’m going to pass out if I don’t stop. I force my hands away from my body. One hand still holding the panties and the other hand drenched with my load. Shame washes over me.

I’ve always been proud of what a calm and normal alpha I am. I’ve never been aggressive and I’ve always been respectful of other people. Now look at me, jerking off with my mate’s underwear shoved in my face.