He croons, a low, wordless sound in his throat as he cups my cheeks. My palms splay on his stomach, my fingers lightly tracing on the indents between his abs.
“You good?” he asks, his eyes bright but worried. “Your scent just…”
He trails off, and then in notice it, too, an edge to the floral that signals anxiety.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Girls just sometimes get nervous their first time.”
His eyes take in my face, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying to appease him. I run my hands up his body, circling his flat nipples with my thumbs. He sucks in a breath, and his lemongrass surrounds us anew. The entire room smells like a forest meadow.
“What?” I ask. “What’s bothering you?”
“I worried you had a bad experience with someone else and that’s why you were a virgin,” he admits against my lips, kissing between every couple words. “When your scent changed, I panicked.”
I quickly shake my head and pull him closer to me. “No, that’s not something that’s happened. It’s a good nervous, I promise.”
Tension falls away from his shoulders, and then he’s easing the skirt and lace panties I’d changed into at my apartment down my legs, trailing a palm all the way down to my ankle, keeping me from spreading them again. His dick sits hard against his jeans, a clear outline of it pressing against the durable fabric. My mouth waters, the desire to taste him, to give him pleasure the way he gave me, consuming me. He shakes his head when I reach for the buckle and zipper, though.
“Not yet,” he says. “I want to savor you this time.”
His voice holds a wealth of promise. He presses a kiss to my ankle, and I swallow hard. Then he guides it onto his shoulder before slowly sinking down, letting his nose trace up the inside of my thigh. He presses a kiss to my clit, the bundle of nerves so sensitive already I can feel my heartbeat in it. He palms my thigh, keeping me from canting my hips to silently beg for more. His touch is just as consuming as the last time—the only time. I sink my hands into his hair as an anchor, terrified of being swept away entirely. Each stroke of his tongue and press of his fingers is perfect and not enough and everything I could ever dream of experiencing for the rest of my life. I’m squirming in only a matter of minutes, completely overwhelmed. My orgasm crests without being able to brace for it. My back bows as I scream and my nails dig into his skin, drawing blood. Rhett’s hand is tight on my leg, keeping me from grinding into his face.
He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t relent, until I’ve fallen all the way back down, my hands shaking from the overstimulation. He lets my leg ease off his shoulder and then kneels, his chest heaving like he’s just had a two minute shift on the ice. His face is covered in my slick. He wipes it away with his arm, not worried about it at all, as he works to catch his breath. Stunningly, I perfume again, my pussy clenching around nothing. I palm his legs, scratching my nails against the thick denim.
“I need to go grab a condom,” he says.
“Do you have to?” I blurt out the question. “I can’t get pregnant unless I’m in heat.”
“Condoms aren’t just for that,” he admonishes, squeezing my knee.
I swallow heavily. “I know.”
He arches an eyebrow.
I close my eyes, breathing through the intense need to have him and just him. I know condoms are important. I know that it doesn’t change the way any of it feels. I know he’s making sure I’m protected because he’s had other partners. But the logic doesn’t touch that base desire that’s eating its way through my stomach and up my throat.
Rhett presses his face into the crook of my shoulder, lightly nipping at the skin. “Tell me, baby girl.”
“It’s stupid,” I whisper.
“Tell me anyway.”
“It makes me sad. The same way trying to let you go at the shop earlier today did.” I run my hand up his side, tracing a faint scar and the line of his hip as it disappears under the waistband of his jeans.
He takes in a long, shuddering breath, then holds it for several seconds.
“It’s ridiculous. Go get one,” I say as steadily as I can manage.
“I was tested right before Halloween, after my last hook up,” he whispers into my skin. Nervous anticipation replaces the strange primal panic. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, baby girl.”
He kisses the hollow of my throat as he pulls away. All I can manage is to stare entirely unabashed as he strips in quick, graceful movements, kicking the pile of clothes out of the way. His dick is long and hard, as impressive as I guessed it would be. He cups his knot, and I swallow. His fingers don’t touch. A thrill rockets through me. My fingers tingle in its wake, and my heart races in my ears.
He settles above me before I can reach for him, his body a wall of heat that has me trembling. He braces one arm beside my head as he guides himself to my entrance. His kiss distracts me as he pushes in, the invasion slow but unrelenting, takingmy breath. He twists his hand into my hair, running his thumb along my temple. I grab at his shoulders on pure instinct, trying to process the mixed signals firing in my mind. It hurts, but I don’t want him to stop. That basic, primal, Omega thing at the core of me writhes in happiness, absolutely loving that I’m finally experiencing this, finally letting an Alpha claim me like this.
“Okay, baby girl?” he asks.
