Chapter 29
Rennick
I’m barely holding on.
Noa—and this sinful mouth of hers—is rapidly discovering new ways to make the edges of my vision swim.
Every careful dip of her head, every deceivingly innocent swipe of her hot little tongue, every adjustment she makes to accommodate and match the accelerating rhythm of my rolling hips, has me gripping the cold edge of the bench like it’s the lifeline keeping me tethered here.
I said we’d figure this out together, just two inexperienced people feeling their way through it, but I should’ve known better. It didn’t take long at all for my mate to master me. Her lips wrapped around my cock have me believing in angels and I’m almost certain she’s one of them.
If she keeps sharpening her skills at this pace, sucking me down with this kind of desperate focus, like she’s trying to take my soul with her, I’m going to end up being launched into fucking orbit.
“You’re doing so well, baby.” The praise leaves me on an exhale, rough and barely above a reverent whisper, because she deserves to hear it.“Such a good omega, sucking on your alpha’s cock.”
It’s no secret omegas flourish under soft words and gentle hands from their alpha, and my girl is no different.
I feel the change in her immediately. Her shoulders soften. She opens wider without hesitation, letting tension melt from her jaw as she swallows more of me down.
“Fuck, Noa.” The curse breaks out of me before I can smother it.
Her eyes lift to mine at the sound of her name, glassy and shining. Tears slide down her cheeks as she fights past her throat’s natural reflex. The sight of Noa crying has always wrecked me, but these tears cut in an entirely different way. They call to a shadowed part of me that hums approvingly at the way they fall. I shouldn’t crave them, but I do because she’s giving me everything she can with the same consuming hunger I feel for her.
“That’s it,” I murmur, fingers curling into the stone. “Relax for me. Let me in.”
She obeys the command instantly, as if it’s been written in her very marrow.Her throat softens again, allowing more of my dick to slide deeper into the sweet heat of her mouth. The release coils low at the base of my spine, dangerous and far too close. I’m trying to hold it off, to give her all the time she wants to taste me, but I’m already hanging on by a single fucking thread.
“You look so pretty like this, Noa,” I breathe, unable to stay quiet when her tears still catch the light coming from the bathroom’s window. Needing to also touch her, I willfully break her earlier rule about keeping my hands on the bench and reach for the newest teardrop sliding down her flushed cheek. It clings to my skin, and I bring my thumb to my mouth without thinking. Noa watches as I suck the warm, salty drop from my finger.
She lets out a sound that is pure omega, a needy little whine that slices through both of us.I don’t know what summoned it; the way I licked away her tear or if it’s just her continued reaction to my praise—maybe both—but either way, it ignites something fierce in her.
Movements more confident than before, Noa leans in and takes more of me, lowering until her lips touch to the fingersshe’s wrapped around the base, squeezing my knot in rhythm with every wicked pull of her mouth.
She stills, my cock now buried deep in her throat, and then swallows around me before pulling back in a rush of breath like she is resurfacing from being underwater.
“More.” Her plea is nothing more than a broken whisper.
My brows pull together in confusion. I don’t get a chance to ask what she means.
She reaches for the hand I’d forced onto the bench. She brings it toward her face, rubbing her jaw slowly along my palm.
“Touch.” The word stumbles out of her. “I need you to touch me, Ren.”
She leaves my hand cupped around her jaw and neck. She lowers herself down again, and this time there’s no teasing. She doesn’t ease herself in. Her lips part and she swallows my cock down in one long, hungry descent.
My entire body jolts, muscles locking, nerves firing violently. My fingers tighten reflexively at her throat, not enough to hurt her but enough that she can’t ignore the pressure.
She groans around me, a sound thick with approval, and I feel the vibration squeeze around my buried length and echo up my spine.
Does my sweet mate like it a little rough?
The realization is a spark to dry grass.
I test the theory. I shift my grip, sliding my hand across her throat so my palm cups the entire front, my fingers resting over her pulse. She swallows again, the movement gliding under my hand.
“Shit,” I exhale roughly, voice wrecked. “I’m close.”
My hold on her tightens, just enough to drag more of those little sounds from her—the needy, breathless moans I’m quickly growing obsessed with—at the same time, my hips thrust upward.
