The world narrows to him, and me, and the relentless pulse of filthy words and blinding pleasure.
“Say it, Rev. Say you want more. You want my compliments. You want to be filled up and called my Omega, even if it makes you crazy.”
I want it.
I want it too much.
“Fuck…I want it,” I whimper in defeat, the pleasure boiling over.
I’m so close—so, so close. I’m going to cum any fucking second.
He knows it, too.
I am past the point of being cute.
I am past the point of arguing, snarking, or pretending I’m the one in control of this plot.
Nash’s cock pounding into me with the kind of devotion that should be covered by medical insurance, and the only thing left is the splintering, frantic need to finish.
“Shut up,” I whimper, high and desperate, the sound so wrecked it echoes off the chrome and all over again in my brain. “Nash, shut up, or—fuck?—”
But he hears the catch in my voice.
Smells it, too, the spike of vanilla sugar in the air, the clutch-and-release of my slick every time he compliments me, and oh, he doubles down. Of course he does.
He snakes a hand under me and finds my nipple, pinching just right—enough sting to make my vision flare, enough heat to send a spike straight to my core.
“This what you wanted, sugar?” Nash growls, never slowing his rhythm, just grinding in deeper, cock so thick and perfect everything inside me tightens.
“You want to cum on my cock, let me hear you, let me feel just how much you love being ruined? That’s what you like, isn’t it? Pinched just so, while I’m buried eight inches deep and fucking telling you how divine you are?”
I shudder.
The word “divine” goes straight to my brainstem and detonates it.
“You are, you know. Divine.” Another twist, another curl of pain-pleasure at my breast, and I’m arching, helpless, shameless, wild. “The prettiest, cleverest, most out-of-control Omega I’ve ever seen, and don’t get me started on that pussy. Christ, it’s a miracle I don’t lose my mind every time I see you bent over for me, lights reflecting in your eyes, looking like the cover to every X-rated Christmas card I never mailed.”
My hand scrabbles at the tank, leaving a wild smear of condensation and glitter and pride.
His voice hones in, words so rough and full of intent I feel them everywhere.
“You’re fucking mine, Rev. Despite all the followers and the fame and those Alphas panting after you, it’s my cock you want. My hands on you. My words turning you inside out even while you tell me not to.”
That’s it.
I go liquid.
“Tell me who you love,” Nash bites in my ear, thrusting harder, every word designed to undo me.
“You—you—” I gasp, whimpering as another bolt of pleasure shoots up my spine. “You, you asshole, you?—”
He laughs, a wild, unrestrained sound, but there’s tenderness woven into every movement.
“That’s right. And you know what, princess? If all those Alphas wanted to get their hands on you, they’d have to get through me first. I’d set the whole damn world on fire before I let anyone ruin you but me. This body? This sweet, curvy, insatiable body? It’s all mine now. It’s Christmas, so I’m making a wish.”
He pinches my nipple again, rolling it between expert fingers, and the combined sensation—him inside, wrapped around, under my skin—makes the room tilt.
“I want to see you cum, Sugarplum. I want to see your pussy milk every inch of me while Christmas carols play and snow paints the world white outside.”
