Page 20 of The Omega’s Nest

His hand stops me.

“Let me?” he says softly against my ear. His fingers brush over mine, and Jesus, I just came and I’m on a hair-trigger for it again.

I nod, dropping my head to my chest to watch. His hands are so big—long, thick fingers, tanned skin. His blunt nails are brittle at the ends like he’s been biting them again. It’s a nervous habit. I don’t remember them looking like that last night. I know he was anxious when he got here, but it’s still difficult to fathom.

Leo’s always been so confident—it was no surprise when he presented as an alpha. He was ordering everyone around on the playground when we were in preschool. And he was the guy all our friends turned to when a decision needed to be made in primary school, in high school. I can still see it—Leo, assuming that authority effortlessly as he said, “We’ll play football at recess and use the courts after lunch,” and “Addie says there’s a swell, so we’ll surf and then have a bonfire on the beach,” and then he’d proceed to tell each person what to bring.

His bouts of nervousness when we were teenagers were few and far between, and always only between us, as far as I could tell, though I never got why. Who would get nervous around me?

His fingers tremble as they slide beneath mine and pop the button. The kiss to my temple as he crowds me is shaky, and he works open each button slowly before sliding his big palms to my hips under the material.

I’m already panting. I’d be embarrassed if I could feel anything beyond the heat pooling in my groin, the stiffening of my cock, and the copious amounts of slick drenching my hole.

He pushes my pants down my hips, the warmth of his touch grounding and electrifying all at once. When his chest slides down my back, I crane my head over my shoulder to see him crouching behind me. My heart pounds as he meets my eyes. He runs those powerful hands down my legs, taking my jeans and boxers with him.

As his hand clasps each foot, I step out of my left and then my right pant leg. He runs his hands up and down my calves, his eyes never leaving mine. He can see everything—the slick sliding down my thighs, my bony ass, the pasty whiteness of my skin, a body too skinny to be attractive.

But Leo smells like nothing but desire, wave after wave of it crashing on a shore.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says as his hands continue to caress my legs, my outer thighs, the crease between my ass and thigh.

I shiver. “You too.”

He straightens, pulls me close, and kisses my throat. “Turn the shower on, get in.”

I do as I’m told with shaking hands, listening to his pants drop behind me. Stepping under the spray, I turn back quickly to look at him.

And dear fucking God, he dwarfs the space. His broad shoulders and well-defined torso heave with his erratic breaths as he scans me from head to toe, gaze wild but tentative. He steps forward as if asking for permission.

I’m drawn to look at his cock. I swallow. I’ve felt it through his pants, so I knew it was big, and I’ve had big, but this is something else. The length and thickness of it, hard and pointing up to his stomach, the delicate veins pronounced against the steel-like shaft. It’s a dick to match the rest of him—the muscled thighs, strong arms. He was always big, but now he’s become a man, an alpha. A powerful, imposing alpha.

“Okay?” he asks, and I rip my gaze away from his cock because that sounded unsure. Is he fucking serious?

“Yeah …” My voice is a husk. I clear my throat. “Jesus, yes.”

He chuckles and steps into my space, nerves and uncertainty fading from his scent as he slips his hands around my waist, and bends to kiss me with a gentle brush of his lips.

His bare cock brushes across my stomach and I gasp. It flexes in response, and I’m filled with images of his knot—the base expanding, my lips on it, worshipping it. Our scents have always suggested we’re fated, but if he can knot me in heat that’ll confirm it. An alpha can only knot their fated mate.

I want so fucking bad to taste his knot.

“Whatever you’re thinking about …” he murmurs against my lips, and I pull back, mortified. Leo tugs me in. His lashes catch water droplets, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his small, cocky smile. “Please don’t stop.”

I can’t help it, I snort a laugh and lean up to kiss him.

His hands slip down to my ass, stroking my glutes, squeezing until I shove my hips forward. He rocks his cock up and down my stomach, groaning into my mouth.

As he kneads my ass, I press back into his touch. I’d do anything to get his fingers inside me, but he’s carefully keeping his hands on my ass cheeks. His tongue plunges into my mouth in time with his cock rubbing off against my stomach, his slick skin sliding against my erection. I meet him, hoping the way I’m tangling my tongue with his communicates how badly I need him inside me.

He breaks the kiss and I sway forward for more. He kisses me hard before pulling away. I whine, unable to stop myself, then blink water out of my eyes and look up at him.

He’s smiling, but he’s panting too much to convince anyone he’s feeling amused.

“Turn around,” he says, voice rough. “Hands on the tiles.”

My stomach somersaults and slick gushes out of me. He said he’d do anything but fuck me. But maybe he’s changed his mind. I hope he’s changed his mind. His hands on my hips turn me as I rush to comply.

A gentle kiss brushes over my nape, and his cock slides up my back as his hands squeeze my hips. I drop my forehead against the tiles and pant.