Holy shit.
She’s marking me.
Her Omega is getting territorial.
Fuck, yes.
My fingers grip the side of the seat so hard my knuckles turn white. I do everything I can to hold back, to keep the anticipation flowing for as long as I can, but Lo makes it impossible.
Both her hands wrap around my steel rod. Her tongue devours my earlobe, her hair brushes all over me.
And then, she bursts inside of my chest, like a bright white light that drowns out the darkness and shines over everything. Exposing everything. There’s a low simmering of anxiety, like she’s questioning every step, but I won’t let her.
I refuse to let her.
“Lo.” I can’t stop gasping her name. It’s a prayer, falling out of my lips. “Oh God, give me that neck. I need—I need?—”
She already knows what I need.
Her body shifts, and my Alpha growls at losing her heat. I want to mark her. I want to claim her in the way she’s just claimed me. Her light pulses in my chest, and it’s so distracting that I don’t even realize she’s shifted her body so that her lips hover over the tip of my cock. It isn’t until I feel her pulsing breath against my leaking precum that my gaze pulls down to her.
My perfect little Omega.
Marking me before I can mark her.
Her lips part before I can speak in a full sentence, and she draws me in, engulfing my cock in the warmth of her mouth.
“Good girl,” I whisper as she takes me down the back of her throat. My fingers intertwine with her hair at the nape of her neck as hollows out those pretty little cheeks of hers. “That’s it. Take me deeper, little one. I want to feel you gag.”
She obliges, not a hint of hesitation in her eyes. Her throat constricts, swallowing around the tip of my cock as I guide her rhythm, slow and controlled at first, then building speed. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears that eventually spill over, but she doesn’t falter. It’s like she wants nothing more than to please me.
A low moan escapes her, vibrating around me as her saliva trickles down my balls. My hips begin to move, gentle thrusts at first. I feel the back of her throat tighten around me.
I’m teetering on the edge, the tension almost unbearable.
My grip on her hair hardens, my words ragged.
“I’m going to come,” I rasp. “Going to fill that beautiful mouth of yours, little one.”
She moans in response, taking me even deeper.
And it’s all I need to burst.
My orgasm crashes over me with a primal groan, my hips jerking as I pulse, hot and relentless, into her mouth. I feel her swallowing. Feel her humming. I feel the burst of her pride in my chest, and it brings tears to my eyes. My Lo, seated so deep within me that we’ll never be separated again. Even if she runs. Even if she leaves, she’ll always be there.
My little one.
She swallows it all, every last thick spurt of arousal, her eyes locked onto mine as if she craves it, as if it sustains her.
As if it’s the only thing she needs to live.
When I’m finally spent, she pulls back slowly, a thin pearlescent strand connecting that pouty lower lip of hers to the tip of my dick for one suspended moment before breaking. Her tongue, pink and glistening, traces the curve of her swollen lips, catching the remnants that cling there, like she can’t get enough.
Her eyes, heavy lidded and dark with satisfaction, never leave mine as she swallows deliberately, the delicate muscles of her throat working as if savoring the last bites of a decadent dessert that she wishes would never end.
I reach down and hoist her against me, holding her close as her tongue starts laving over the mating mark she left behind on the crook of my neck. The feeling of her ragged breathing, getting lost in the settled pride of her bright white light that cuts through every single shred of shadow that I’ve always kept close.
But I can’t get too lost in those thoughts. Not when I have something nagging me, tugging at the back of my brain.
