“When you take that scrap of fabric off, I want it,” I tell her, looking at her pussy.
She visibly shivers, then kicks her jeans aside. I grab them and throw them at Laz.
He growls.
Probably because her slick permeated the fabric.
Or maybe because he doesn’t appreciate me treating him like a laundry hamper.
Whatever.
He’ll live.
Aurora removes her lacy undergarments—starting with the lower half, then adding her bra—and throws them both at me.
It’s sassy. Confident. And fucking magnificent.
Because she’s naked.
And her panties smell like sugary heaven.
I inhale deeply, ensuring she sees it, then slide the sexy lace into my pocket. “For when I jack off later,” I tell her.
Slick visibly pools from her sweet center, making my mouth water.
“Come here,” I growl at her, standing and holding out my hand.
She steps forward, but I grab her by the hips instead and sit her on the table right in front of me.
“Place your palms on the wood,” I instruct her. “And spread those pretty thighs.”
She only barely opens her legs as I reclaim my chair.
That’s fine.
She’ll learn.
Using my grip on her hips, I yank her forward.
She yelps, her palms flailing and catching herself on the flat wooden surface.
I don’t wait for her to stabilize, just dive down and place my mouth where it belongs—right on her fucking clit.
Another startled sound leaves her, followed by a moan as I suck the little nub into my mouth andpurr.
“Ohhh,” she whispers, her body tensing beneath my palms.
I run my hands down her thighs to her ankles, then set them on the arms of the chair on either side of me.
I want her all around me.
Owning me with her scent.
Saturating me with her slick.
Claiming me in a way only an omega can.
“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined, little bee,” I whisper against her slick flesh. “You’re going to be my daily dessert. Breakfast, too. Shit, I may just eat you for eternity and subsist on honeyed pussy alone.”
