“Order noted.” He arches his eyebrow hopefully. “But I can still serve you on my knees, yeah?”
“Acceptable.” I stand, loving the way that my Omega looks, sprawled out in a mess beneath me.
Then I stroll to the bed, facing away from Bird, before sliding down my jeans and panties.
I’m not putting on a show for Bird.
It’s efficient.
My core is throbbing too much for his tongue to draw this out. Yet Bird still sucks in his breath like he’s just witnessed the unveiling of a work of art, rather than my ass.
I’m not used to feeling desired.
I don’t hate it.
I kick off my boots, before peeling off my socks. My lips twitch, before I hurl my socks over my shoulder.
“Hey,” Bird protests.
Bullseye.
My socks must have hit Bird square in the face. I haven’t lost my edge.
I force the smile from my face, before I coldly turn and sit on the edge of the bed.
I am a queen, after all.
I click my fingers, pointing at the spot between my splayed legs. “Serve me.”
Bird holds my socks in his hands, looking like I have already ravished him. He throws the socks down, before pushing himself onto his hands and knees and crawling with a seductive swing of his hips to kneel between my thighs.
I swallow.
I never felt like this about any of the other Hotel Omegas, with whom I spent my ruts.
Why do I feel like there are butterflies in my stomach, every time that Bird gives me that half-hooded look?
I struggle to keep my cool expression, but my high cheekbones are painted in pink.
“May I touch you?” Bird whispers like I truly am so far above him that it would be a sacrilege.
“How will you pleasure me otherwise, Omega?” I try for bored, but I am already panting.
When Bird rests one of his hands on the sensitive skin of my upper thigh, my breath hitches.
He traces gentle circles, before following the tingling caress with gentle licks.
I claw my fingers into the bedding to force myself not to grab him by the hair and move his mouth roughly onto my throbbing pussy, using him to bring me pleasure like a toy.
This isn’t about need, or at least, not only that.
It’s about connection and that is much more difficult for me to handle.
When he looks up at me through his thick, black lashes, my chest tightens at thelovein his gaze.
I can’t hide from it.
I feel exposed, despite sitting above him, while he kneels beneath me.
