Page 11 of Forbidden Taste (An Omega’s Preference #3)
nine
LEO
I hold Riley against me, his warm, pliant body pressed to my bare chest, the blanket draped loosely over us as my knot slowly deflates inside him.
As the haze of the moment fades, the needy, raw desire sifting into the background, the confusion settles in.
I’ve never responded like this to anyone—never been so overcome by the need to fuck someone, to claim them, to lose myself in them.
Sure, I’ve had toys, my hand, late nights chasing release in the dark of my dorm, but being sheathed in Riley’s ass?
It’s an entirely different beast—a sensation that sinks into my bones and sets my blood ablaze.
I want to do it again. Soon. Tomorrow. Right now.
The urge claws at me as I shift beneath him, my hands steady on his hips as I slowly lift him off my cock.
He slides free with a soft, wet sound, and the sudden bloom of his scent—syrupy roses and honey—spills into the room.
It hits me like a drug, pulling me under until I’m entranced, completely lost in the Omega in my arms. It’s wrong, taboo—two Omegas tangled like this—but I can’t seem to care.
The threat of getting caught, of Benjamin storming in with his sour citrus stench and his possessive glare no longer terrifies me.
Something’s switched, a primal shift deep in my core, and now my sole focus is Riley—his safety, his pleasure, the way his breath fans softly against my neck.
I stare down at him, brushing the side of his face with my knuckles, his skin smooth and flushed beneath my touch. How did I get so lucky? To play out this fantasy I’ve nursed for months, watching him through that window, dreaming of him like this?
The fantasy is coming to an end though. I’ll need to leave, return to my dorm and let the golden Omega go, let him slip back into his world of music and expectations. But the thought of it—leaving him here, walking away—pains me, a physically sharp jolt in my chest that’s impossible to ignore.
Riley hums a soft sound before curling up tighter against me.
“Ehm, I feel empty.” His voice is sleepy, slurred with exhaustion as he places a soft hand on my chest, looking up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
“If you’re thinking about leaving, don’t.
I think my Omega claimed you as his already, and he wants a few more moments. ”
I snort, a small, shaky laugh escaping me, and shake my head. “Is it weird that I don’t want to let you go?” My hands tighten on him, one sliding up his back, the other resting on his thigh.
Riley’s lips curve into a sweet, knowing smile. “No. That’s what it feels like to have a mate—to want to be with them every waking moment, to share their time, their bodies, their attention.”
I drop a kiss to his lips, lingering there, tasting the honeyed sweetness of him. “I think I’m going to get addicted to you,” I whisper against his mouth as my hand cups his cheek, my thumb brushing the curve of his jaw .
“I already am,” he purrs, his voice a husky confession that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
His hand slides up my chest, tangling in the curls at the nape of my neck, dragging me into a kiss until we’re just there, holding each other, tasting each other.
I’m loving every last bit of this, the way he tries to curl even closer or the way his little moans and whimpers seem to grow more insistent the longer he’s in my arms.
It’s like he’s fully embraced his instincts in a way I’ve never seen him with anyone else—like he enjoys being needy and I love it. Because I’m enjoying the idea of control, of drinking in those sweet kisses and touches and giving him attention, all the same.
Then a phone buzzes, cutting through the haze.
Riley stiffens slightly, his lips pausing against mine.
“Ignore it,” he murmurs and I do, sinking back into the kiss, my hand sliding up to cup his neck.
But it buzzes again, louder this time, and he sighs, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.
“It’s probably a professor,” he says, his tone edged with frustration, “or Benjamin, or my mother, asking if I’m practicing again. ”
I tilt my head, brushing my nose against his. “Why do you practice so much if you don’t like it?”
He shifts, his eyes flickering with something dark—resignation, maybe.
“I love music. It’s my passion. But being forced into something I don’t want to be makes it hard to feel the emotion that comes with the notes.
” He pulls away then, climbing off my lap, and I already hate the loss of him—the sudden absence of his warmth.
I watch as he crosses the practice room, unashamedly bare, in contrast as I drag the blanket up over my lap.
He bends to gather our clothes, my gaze following every delightful curve and expanse of naked skin.
Riley’s absolutely gorgeous, the perfect vision of an Omega, a little extra in all the right places.
He seems to know it too, the way he struts through his practice room before handing me my clothes, and then keeps talking as he slips into his pants.
“Friday night,” he says, tugging his hoodie over his head, “they gave me an opportunity to graduate a whole year early. But it’d mean not a moment of breathing room.
I’d spend all my time practicing with professors or around Benjamin. ”
I stand, slipping my pants on, the zipper loud in the quiet. “Is that not something you want?” I ask, stepping closer, my shirt still dangling from my hand.
Riley lets out a little frustrated sigh as he stomps over to the piano, fingers brushing the keys absently. “I don’t want to bleed for my music. Not the way they want me to. I’ve been practicing this same damn song for months and can’t get it.”
“I know. You always stop.” I’ve heard him through the window, that same halting melody always stopping at the same place.
“Because I’m blocked. I can’t ever get it.” His fingers are still hovering before he slides onto the piano bench and starts playing. The notes spill out, the piece I heard a few days ago. I close my eyes, letting it wash over me but it’s different this time.
Where he usually stumbles, he keeps going, the music flowing seamless and deep.
It draws something out of me—a hum I’ve never made before, rising from my chest unbidden.
I see it in my mind: a forest, the two of us, moving together like a dance, leaves rustling, sunlight filtering through.
My voice weaves with the melody—there are no words, just the whisper of a song—and I’m falling in love with the sound, with him.
The music stops abruptly and I open my eyes. I’m not sure when I drifted closer but Riley’s standing on the piano bench, his face inches from mine, his brown eyes wide with wonder. “Sweetie, you didn’t tell me you could sing. You sound like a fucking angel. ”
My cheeks heat as I step back, realizing the sound I was making. “Because I’ve never done it before,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. Music doesn’t run in my family, not really and it’s never been one of the things that my brother or I explored.
He reaches out, caressing the side of my face. “I guess I’m going to get all your firsts, huh?” he teases, Riley leaning in for another kiss. He pauses, his lips grazing against mine as if he wants me to take control.
I swallow hard, my hands finding his waist, pulling him against me. “I hope so,” I murmur, closing the distance, focusing only on the sweet Omega in front of me. In a matter of hours, I’ve gone from self doubt to confusion to being unable to fathom the thought of walking away.
I’m still terrified of what’s going to happen but I think I just found my new obsession and it’s most definitely going to get us in trouble.