She’s panting. Shaking. Whispering my name.
Not enough, I think, deciding to drive her mad.
I slide three fingers into her tight sheath, needing her to feel full but not quite full enough.
I curl the digits in a way that strokes her G-spot while my thumb plays with her clit.
It’s just enough to coax her into a blissful state without letting her fall off the cliff.
Pairing that with my assault on her pretty rosebud nipples, she starts to issue demands.
Demands followed by pleas.
Pleas followed by vows of killing me if I don’t give her more.
Vows followed by whimpers.
Which lead to begging phrases.
And only then do I kiss a path down to her gorgeous pussy.
“You’re so fucking wet, darling,” I tell her, showing her my soaked hand. “But all this slick is just the beginning, sweet girl. I want this bedsaturatedwith your need before I let you come. So give memore.” I verbalize the word with a deep growl, one meant to entice an omega.
Specifically,myomega.
She growls back in response, but her body does exactly what I command it to do—it fucking weeps.
So I rumble again, this time with my mouth against her sensitive nub.
Then I push four fingers into her, working her up for a fist.
Because if I have it my way, we’ll introduce her to the double-knotting before she goes into heat.
Or maybe that’ll be what coaxes her into it.
I don’t fucking care so long as we get there.
“Lazarus,” she hisses, jerking beneath me as I push her further with my hand and mouth, sucking and plunging into her soaked cunt.
She’s losing herself to the lust, just like she will to her heat.
But I know she’s still with me because of the way she curses.
I smile against her core, my tongue teasing her throbbing clit as I bring her close to the edge for what has to be the tenth or eleventh time. Not that I’m counting. I wait until she clamps down on me, then pause and only apply the barest of pressure to her pulsing nub.
“Ah!” she screams at me, making me smile. “If you don’t knot me…”
I wait, but all that follows is a bunch of unintelligible words.
“Finish that threat, darling,” I say, edging her some more. “I want to hear what you’ll do to me if I don’t let you come.”
Her response is a groan, one that turns into a furious grumble when I repeat the exercise again.
And again.
Andagain.
“Lazarus, please,” she cries, her body shaking with the effort of trying to come and not being allowed to.
