Page 9 of Puck Your Charity

Wiping my hand on the towel, I back away from the mirror. My breathing turns frantic. Clutching the edges of the vanity does nothing to steady me. Balanced, boring hormones never pull stunts like this. Sudden arousal without a reason makes no sense.

Then, the phantom scent hits me.

Standing in my unscented bathroom, the smell returns. The crispness of citrus mixes with the rich depth of cedar, the bite of black pepper, and the ozone note of a thunderstorm.Malcolm, Lawrence, and Finn.

My mind conjures their faces with terrifying focus. I see Malcolm's dark braid and intense stare, and Lawrence's broad chest and easy smile. The sheer size of Finn takes over my thoughts. The width of their shoulders and their massive hands fill my head.

A fresh wave of slick floods my bare thighs.

My body screams for large hands to pin me down. It begs for the weight of a chest pressing me into a mattress.

I reject this. The idea that smelling a team cologne can reduce me to a trembling, dripping mess breaks every rule I live by. I built my life on independence. Relying on nobody is my motto.

The throbbing between my legs ignores my rational thoughts. The ache intensifies from a dull throb into a biting demand. It pulses with every beat of my heart. I need relief. Making the agonizing pressure stop is the only way to save my sanity.

Abandoning the damp towel on the bathroom floor, I stumble into my bedroom. A trail of wet footprints follows me across the hardwood.

Falling face-first onto my crisp bed. The agonizing ache between my legs consumes my reality.

Rolling onto my back, my legs kick apart. Cool bedroom air hits my soaked center and sends a shiver down to my toes.

Reaching toward my nightstand, my fingers fumble with the top drawer. I yank it open and grab the sleek green silicone vibrator stashed next to my phone charger. Pulling this toy out happens maybe once a month. I treat it like a practical tool for stress relief.

Today, I grip it like a lifeline. Pressing the power button sends a buzz of steady vibration into my palm.

Spreading my thighs wider, my fingers part my swollen folds. The sheer volume of wetness coating my pussy shocks me. I smear the slick around to coat my clit before pressing the vibrating silicone directly against it.

A loud, messy moan escapes my lips. Arching my back off the mattress, the vibration hits my clit and sends a jolt of raw pleasure straight to my brain.

The relaxed, lazy rhythm of my usual solo sessions vanishes. Chasing fantasies of romance isn't the goal. This feels frantic. A desperate need to just get off and scratch an itch that burns down to the bone drives my every movement.

Grinding my hips upward mashes my clit against the toy. My free hand flies up to my chest. Pinching my aching nipples and twisting the tight buds mixes the pain with the pleasure.

Deep, ragged gasps replace my breathing. The walls of my bedroom blur. Squeezing my eyes shut forces my focus onto the friction and the buzzing motor. But my traitorous brain refuses to stay empty.

The phantom smell of a thunderstorm rolls over me. Finn’s face flashes behind my closed eyelids. Picturing his calloused hands replacing the silicone toy sends a jolt through my hips. I imagine those thick fingers spreading my wet pussy open and rubbing my clit until I scream.

Malcolm's dark eyes watch me in the fantasy while he strokes his thick cock. Lawrence's broad chest presses me flat against the sheets. Then, Victor's carved jawline and icy eyes invade my mind. The memory of his arrogant face should repulse me, but an unexplainable tug in my gut drags him right into the tangled mess of my desires.

The fantasy throws gasoline on the fire. Tension coiling in my stomach snaps tight. My hips buck against my hand.

"Alphas!" I gasp the word into the empty room.

The confession shocks my system as the climax hits with the force of a freight train. It crashes over my senses and blinds me with white-hot pleasure. My inner thigh muscles spasm. My dripping pussy clenches and contracts around empty air. I cry out and dig my heels into the mattress as wave after wave of intense release wracks my trembling body.

Riding the high lasts until the muscle spasms slow. The dropped toy lands on the ruined duvet with a quiet thud. Lying spread-eagle on my bed, I stare at the ceiling fan. Sweat coats my chest and stomach. My lungs heave to drag desperate gulps of air into my chest.

For sixty glorious seconds, my body feels light. The terrible pressure vanishes to clear my mind. A long, shaky exhale leaves my lips. Fixing the problem myself worked, just like it always does.

Then, the relief shatters. The throb returns. It hits me without warning, biting into my raw flesh with twice the intensity. An echoing, desperate emptiness opens up deep inside my pelvis. My body clenches and screams for a real cock. It demands an actual knot to stretch my pussy and fill the space.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. The ache feels agonizing, way worse than the initial fever. Curling onto my side, I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my shins. A tight ball forms in the middle of my huge, empty bed.

Slick continues to drip down my thighs, making a sticky mess of the sheets. The phantom scent of crisp citrus and thunderstorms refuses to fade. A sob breaks past my lips. Burying my face in the pillows offers zero comfort. I built an entire life on being practical, organized, and independent. I never needed anyone. I'm a Beta.

Now, trembling in a puddle of arousal terrifies me. Whatever sick fever hijacked my system just stripped away every ounce of my control.

Chapter 4