"What do you mean?"
I spin her around, pressing her against the kitchen island, the marble cool under her palms as I tug at her legging's waistband, pulling it down just enough to see her dripping wet for me.God, the sight of her, slick glistening, her scent thick with need—it's better than any fantasy.I taunt her, slipping a hand between her legs, feeling her heat, her slick coating my fingers as I bring them to my mouth, licking them clean with a moan.
"So sweet, Reverie. Like caramel heaven."
Before she can respond, I'm pulling out my cock, hard and-ready, sliding it between her legs to tease her folds, gathering her slick on my shaft. I force her head back by her hair, whispering naughty things in her ear.
"Let's see if you can spread nice and wide for your Alpha."
I slide into her slowly at first, inch by inch, her tight heat enveloping me, making her moan in sheer relief as I fill her. The sensation is exquisite, her walls clenching around me like they were made for this.
Then I lift her effortlessly, laying her back on the kitchen island, spreading her legs wide in a near-split that showcases just how flexible she is from all those workouts. The marble is cold beneath her, but she doesn't complain, her eyes locked on mine with that mix of trust and want.
I start fucking her hard and deep, each thrust slamming home, slapping her ass cheeks with sharp stings that make her gasp and arch.
"You like it rough, don't you? Just like in those smutty books you love recommending," I tease, my voice gravelly with lust.
"Fuck yes," she cries, her voice breathy and desperate, "deeper, please!"
I deliver, pounding into her with relentless force, building her up until she's coming undone on the island, her orgasm crashing over her as her cum drips onto the marble surface, pooling in shiny evidence of her pleasure.
But I'm not done; I fuck her even harder, faster, chasing my own release while she writhes beneath me.
The kitchen, this cozy haven blurs around us in a haze of passion.
The air is thick with the scent of baking cookies—ginger and cinnamon mingling with our combined aromas, creating a symphony of warmth that wraps around us like a blanket. Reverie's honey-gold hair fans out across the marble, strands framing her flushed face like a halo. Her cream-colored cashmere sweater clings to her curves, thigh-high knitted socks still on, adding to the intimate, disheveled picture she makes.
God, she's beautiful like this, all bubbly energy channeled into pure ecstasy. How did I get so lucky? She's not just an Omega; she's the spark we've been missing, the one who makes everything feel right.
I slow for a moment, savoring the way her body trembles, her internal muscles fluttering around me.
The counter is scattered with baking tools—a rolling pin dusted with flour, cookie cutters in festive shapes, a bowl of leftover dough—but right now, it's our playground.
She looks up at me, eyes dilated and lips swollen from our kisses, that enthusiastic spirit of hers shining even now.
"Grayson, don't stop," she pleads, her voice a bubbly lilt mixed with need, and it only fuels my dominance.
I smack her ass again, lighter this time, watching the pink bloom on her skin.
"Not stopping until you're screaming, love." My hips snap forward, deeper, harder, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. Her moans fill the space, high and sweet, mingling with the timer beeping faintly from the oven—cookies almost ready, but they'll wait.
She's persevered through so much, that old pack trying to dim her light, but look at her now, thriving, letting go with me. I won't let anyone take this from her—from us.
Building her up again, I lean down to capture her mouth, our scents intertwining—my sandy-blonde hair falling forward, mixing with hers.
The island marble is slick with her release, cool and smooth under my palms as I brace myself. She wraps her legs around me as best she can in that spread position, pulling me closer, her perseverance showing in how she matches my rhythm despite the intensity.
We continue like this, the rom-com banter from earlier forgotten in the raw passion, but it's there in the undercurrent—her laughter bubbling up between moans, my possessive growls punctuated with teasing words.
"You think you can handle more, little one? Show me that Pilates flexibility."
She nods so frantically it’s almost comedic—except her eyes are molten, her body shaking with need, and there’s no room for laughter; only hunger, only the way she surrenders to me with every pulse of slick and every arch of her back.
“Yes, Alpha. Yes, yes—fuck, please—” Her voice is sugar and desperation, equal parts obedience and wildness, and the sound of it goes straight to my cock, which is already so thick and hard I feel like I could break in two.
I brace her hips, pinning her in place, and drive into her with the kind of force that makes the whole kitchen shudder. Her thighs clamp around my waist, urging me deeper, and I gogladly, chasing the heat and the madness and the way her body clings to mine like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.
She’s babbling now, words blending in a stream of praise and pleading.
