She rides me hard and dirty. The friction against my cock hurts. It feels insanely good, I buck up giving us both additional pressure. I scent the moment she reaches the top of her pleasure; her bubble-gum perfume floods my senses with a juicy sweetness. Her breath is against my neck, and I thrust up as she grinds down, and all of a sudden I’m right there with her. The both of us chasing the same desperate urge, perfuming the room in our lust.
“God, I’m going to come,” I groan. I’ve got no shame in telling her either because we’re as good as fucking.
“Yes,” she whimpers and falls forward.
I hold my fingers deep inside her pussy, her channel is pulsing around them. With my other fingers, I twist her slippery clit, and let my shields drop away, in effect letting her have the real me. My Alpha influence becomes something impossible to ignore, my lemon scent adding to the moment. And both of those very Alpha attributes give her exactly the messages her body needs. She moans, the noise is even deeper as she too let’s go and becomes a vessel for her Omega designation.
Her pleasure feeds mine, and my balls twist up as I keep grinding against her pussy.
Without stopping or second guessing, she uses my body to wrangle every bit of relief she can find. It’s a complete turn on, the confident way she takes control.
I can’t help but also admit how natural it feels for us to do this together.
Her lips suck against my throat, it aches so good. She sucks harder and harder and I’m going to be left with a huge ass hickey, but the pain is lost under the pleasure her mouth on me brings until there’s a short, sharp stab of pain as she bites down.
The connection we share changes. For me at least. Because this deliciously sweet-smelling Omega just accidentally claimed me as hers.
Chapter
Seventeen
TRISTAN
The tiny room we’re in is saturated by the smell of two people getting off made better because of his unique scent. I seriously can’t get enough of the way he smells, it’s like a drug I need more of. I bury my nose against his throat, figuring out exactly what it reminds me of: lemon-meringue pie, achingly sweet with a tartness to make your mouth water.
“You smell good enough to eat.” I snuggle up under his chin, chasing even more. It’s everywhere, and so is his Alpha presence. It presses against all the places his scent doesn’t reach, honestly, I feel like I’m being wrapped up like a burrito.
“And you’re stealing my lines. Which reminds me.” His lemony breath blows across my face and it’s the only warning I get before he steals my breath as he slams his lips to mine. His tongue dances over mine, and I release the smallest of whimpers. The noise encourages him, and he growls before kissing me with even more determination. It’s like he’s trying to destroy me in a kiss.
I have to pull away so I don’t pass out on him because I get so caught up in his lemony lips, he makes me forget how to breathe. “Thank you for saving me. Out there and in here, I mean.”
“It wasn’t a hard ask. I guess though we need to talk,” he says, he takes his hand and moves my face back to where it was, kissing away the question we need to talk about.
I lose track of time and get lost in each yummy kiss as we make out like lovers who have been together for years. He makes each kiss different and more intense than the last. Our delicious make out session only gets interrupted when the lights blinker on.
“Oh,” is all I manage because words disappear. Beautiful is an inadequate descriptor when it comes to him. Unsurprisingly I’m as drawn to him physically as I am scent wise and I seriously can’t do anything but stare into his dark grey eyes for a while because they are so amazing. There’s flecks of blue in them but they’re definitely stormy grey. One look and he’s got me under his spell, but then my gaze drops to his lips, slightly puffy from our kissing, and I get side tracked by them instead.
He stays so still and doesn’t shy away as I check him out. And then seeing as I’m done, he smiles making his teeth flash, nearly blinding me in the process.
“Would you stop,” I laugh, not needing to refer to his preening or his happiness, it’s pretty obvious.
My hands brush his hair off his face because I can easily see it’s unnatural the way it currently is and once I’ve slicked it off his forehead and back in place I see him clearly, and properly. He’s absolutely nailed the rockabilly look. His hair is freaking soft to touch and so healthy I’m jealous. I run my fingers through the length, obsessing about how deep the black colour is.
The way he has it styled, mixing length on top and buzz cut sides, styled to military precision is divine. And hot damn it looks good on him.
I can’t stop ogling him like a creeper, but by God, he’s one of my ultimate fantasies in the flesh. He’s wearing, or was wearing, a crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned at his throat.Right now, he looks calm even though it looks like he’s been running backwards through a tornado. Or making out with a desperate Omega.
A wide smile breaks across my lips and I can’t help but laugh at how freaking good he looks. I go to check my clothes, but my eyes catch on the side of his throat. Instead of shying away from the bite on his throat I reach out and touch his throat having a vague memory of my face there.
“Impossible,” I whisper as I touch the claim mark.
He shuffles slightly, and my gaze jumps from his throat to his eyes and I’m surprised his eyes are closed at such a critical moment.
“Improbable. Not impossible,” he says a line creasing his forehead. “God, you touching it feels incredible. Pretty sure I could come again if you keep doing that. Why do you smell stressed by the way?”
“You’re not stressed?” I sass back instantly and too loudly.
“About you biting me?”
