Nearly.
“I’m here for you, kit-kat. I’ve got you,” he promises, stripping his shirt off over his head and saints, I wish my mind wasn’t so addled, wish I could properly appreciate his lean physique, the faint dusting of red hair on his chest, trailing down into his jeans. I whine and he kicks them off, bare when he settles back between my thighs.
He kisses and nuzzles me, like he can’t get enough of me, and I touch him, greedy and eager, my fingers skating over the cords of muscle on his back, his firm buttocks, his lean strong thighs.
“Need you, Simon,” I whimper. “Just like this.”
He meets my eyes as he enters me and the stretch of him is a blissful, perfect burn. I whine and rock up against him, and this time he doesn’t tease. He drives into me to the hilt, something I can’t do with Luca. He braces himself on one hand and leans back and when he surges into me, his hips thrust against my oversensitive clit.
I see stars and I shout my pleasure up to them.
Simon whispers words of praise as he worships me with slow, hard strokes of his cock into my swollen cunt. He doesn’t hit my back wall the way an alpha would, but the pressure and friction against my clit is enough to make me boil over. He leans back on his haunches and thumbs my clit as my climax crashes through me, not letting me come down. He drives me higher, stroking me in small, tight circles that wind my pleasure up, fast and sharp. I crash again and again as he fucks and touches me through orgasm after orgasm, and for just the space of a breath, I don’t feel the overpowering need for a knot.
He finishes inside me with a groan and then turns me until I’m nestled on top of him, his cock still inside me.
But my desire isn’t sated for long and when I rock on top of him once more, when Luca strokes me as I ride my beta lover, as I come apart in their arms, it still isn’t enough.
I weep.
I cry out for Ian.
And he comes.
* * *
I hearhis knock at my cottage door, hear Marcus’ low growl of warning.
“I won’t hurt her,” Ian swears. “I could never.”
“Explain all those nights she spent crying over shit you said to her last term, then.”
“You know I did it to keep her safe.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that you did it. That she wept over your words.”
“I’ll never be able to atone for the things I said to her, but at least let me see her. Let me help her.”
And then he’s at the foot of my nest, staring down at me, mouth agape, the blue of his eyes swallowed up by the black of his pupils. His scent spikes, the bright bergamot and cedar I so love.
“Fuck,” he says, a strangled sound.
“Please,” I beg.
“May I come into your nest, omega?”
“Yes. Need you.”
We don’t refrain. Not this time.
He’s bare in an instant, all long, lean muscle, quiet strength he hid behind button-up shirts and professional slacks, beneath that dark raincoat of his that’s always thrown over a chair somewhere. He rakes his dark hair out of his eyes, and I stare.
Because Ian Reinhardt is perfect down to the smallest detail. And thenotsmallest detail. Saints, my mouth waters for the weight of his cock against my tongue and my sex aches for the sweet stretch of his thick length. He kneels between my thighs, and I push up on my elbows to meet him.
For a moment, we don’t touch. We don’t kiss. He breathes in my scent, my perfume of honeyed vanilla and jasmine, and I drink him in, the spice of cedar and the sweet-sharp tang of bergamot.
Omega and alpha, just as nature intended.
He cups my cheek in his hand and lowers his lips to mine and it’s just before he kisses me that I notice he’s shaking. His kiss is hesitant, a quick brush of the lips, but when I chase his kiss, when I lace my fingers behind his neck and pull him down into my soft nest, all hesitation is gone.
