“I’ve got you.” I lean down, take her nipple in my mouth again while my fingers drive into her. “Come for me, Cara. Want to feel you come on my hand.”
She shatters.
Her whole body convulses, clenching tight around my fingers, and the sound she makes—broken and desperate andsatisfied—goes straight through me. Slick floods my hand as she rides out her orgasm, wave after wave of pleasure that I can smell in her scent, can feel in the way she trembles beneath me.
I work her through it, gentling my touch as she comes down. When she finally goes limp, panting, I ease my fingers out of her. They’re coated in slick, glistening in the low light.
She watches, eyes dark, as I bring them to my mouth and taste her.
“Theo.” Her voice is wrecked. “That’s?—”
“You taste incredible.” Sweet and musky andomega. I lick my fingers clean while she watches. “I could do that all night.”
“Later.” She’s already reaching for my belt. “Right now I need to touch you.”
I help her get my jeans off, then my boxers, and then we’re both naked on my couch and I can’t think straight. My cock is straining, painfully hard, and when her hand wraps around my shaft I nearly black out.
“God, I missed this.” She’s stroking me slowly, her grip firm and perfect. “Missed you.”
“Cara—” My voice is strained. I’m thrusting into her fist now, unable to help myself. The base of my cock is already swelling, my body responding to her omega scent.
“I know you’re holding back.” Her thumb swipes over my tip, spreading the precum there. “You’re always so careful. So gentle.” Her grip tightens. “But I don’t want gentle right now, Theo.”
I groan. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking for.” Her hand slides down to the base where my knot is forming, and she squeezes.
I see stars.
“Fuck—” The pressure is incredible, her fingers tightening around the swelling flesh. My knot pulses bigger under her grip, thickening until it fills her hand completely.
“That’s it.” She squeezes again, rhythmic pulses around my fully formed knot. “Let go for me.”
Her voice, her hand, her scent everywhere—it’s too much. I’m gone.
I come with a groan that’s almost a growl, spilling over her hand and onto her stomach. She keeps stroking me through it, squeezing my knot in waves, milking every drop while I shudder and curse and try not to collapse on top of her.
When I finally stop shaking, she’s looking at me with so much warmth it makes my chest ache.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“Hi.” I lean down and kiss her, slow and thorough. “That was...”
“Yeah.” She’s smiling against my mouth. “It really was.”
I grab my discarded shirt and clean her up gently—her stomach, her thighs, my hand. She watches me the whole time with soft eyes.
“Stay there,” I murmur. “I’ll get us something better.”
I come back with a warm washcloth and a blanket. She’s curled up on the couch, still naked, looking thoroughly debauched and completely satisfied. I want to memorize her exactly like this.
I clean her up properly this time, then settle back onto the couch and pull her into my arms. The blanket goes over both of us—both still naked, skin against skin—and she snuggles into my chest with a contented sigh.
“That was amazing,” she murmurs.
“Just wait until I can actually take my time.” I press a kiss to her hair. “I have plans.”
“Plans involving the potting bench?”
