I want him to touch me, badly.
I want to feel physically connected to him.
So even though I know I might regret it later, I curl my hand around his and guide his fingers to where I’m wet and aching. To where I need him most.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re soaked, baby. Is all this slick for me?”
The blunt tips of his fingers tease my entrance and I moan my answer. “Yes, Court. All for you.”
A whine of protest leaves me when his fingers do, sliding out of my panties. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t leave you wanting. I just need a taste of you.”
I blink at him as he slides his finger into his mouth, green eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Best fucking thing ever,” he mutters almost to himself, before he thrusts his hands down the front of my leggings and shoves two fingers inside of me.
I cry out, bucking my hips, back arching.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen, Pixie. You’re gonna ride my fingers, fuck yourself on them. You’re gonna come so fucking hard, you see stars. Yeah?”
I nod frantically, already doing as he ordered, rolling my hips to slide his fingers in and out of me.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, green eyes flicking from my face down to where his hand disappears into maroon fabric and then back up, like he can’t figure out what entrances him more. “So good for me. Look at you. So pretty finding your pleasure. Using my hand to get yourself off.”
“Court,” I moan, losing my rhythm as the pleasure grows. “Please. I’m so close.”
He makes a pleased humming sound. “Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” His thumb presses into my clit and my vision goes spotty with the intense sensation.
Just before I come, just before the pleasure builds and builds and builds, I have the hazy thought,how did I end up here?How did we go from talking about my past trauma to me riding his fingers, to coming in an almost embarrassingly short amount of time? How do I feel safe enough with him to let him touch me?
But then I think about the trust challenge, how he cheerfully refrained from barking at not just me, but his entire team. How he joins me for yoga almost every morning. How he smiles and laughs and jokes—and flirts—but he seems to do that less and less with the other omegas and more and more with only me.
I think of the worry on his face earlier today after Isadora tackled me. The way his hands hovered over me afraid to touch, to hurt me more.
I think of how he has such a beautiful fucking soul it makes my heart ache.
“Pretty boy,” I gasp out. “Alpha.”
“That’s it, omega. Come for your alpha.”
The tight coil of pleasure shatters at his command.
I cry out.
My fingers dig into his shoulders, hips bucking uncontrollably, grinding my ass against his cock. He grunts, jaw tight, fingers still thrusting in and out of me, curling at just the point to make me cry out against his mouth as the first orgasm rolls into a second one.
Court’s green eyes watch all of this, a sort of feral possessiveness in their depths. It grounds me in a way I wouldn’t have guessed, while I’m adrift in a sea of absolute pleasure.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, the words puffing over my lips. The gentle stroke of his hand slows, softens, stops altogether. My breathing is still ragged, my pulse too quick. It only gets worse when he pulls his hand from between my thighs, showing me how his fingers glisten with my sticky cum, before he sinks them into his mouth, humming like it's the best thing he’s ever tasted.
I watch, entranced, as he laps at his digits, making sure to get every last drop of slick off his fingers. “Fuck, you taste so good.”
I have the urge to taste what he does, to understand why he thinks it's good enough to literally lick from his fingers. Especially when I’m on suppressants and I know my slick doesn’t taste like hibiscus and citrus.
He moans when I bend my head to capture his lips, licking along them, and then into his mouth. I can only taste him, warm and slightly spicy. Nothing of my own scent, just the faint chemical edge of the suppressants we’re still on.
His hand smooths along the side of my head, pushing me back gently as he looks up at me in awe. “Stunning,” Court groans, pulling his mouth from mine, but keeping our foreheads pressed together. “Fuck, Pix.”
I nod. “Yeah. We should do that.”
He barks out a laugh, but doesn’t take me up on the offer, pressing a soft almost chaste kiss to my mouth instead. “I want to. I really, really fucking do. But I think we both know it's not a good idea.”
