Page 35 of Let It Snow (Eden’s Omegaverse #7)

"I need…" I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut. "Please, fuck me, I don’t want to wait any longer! The pain—!"

"I’ve got you, Summer."

Then Snow leans over me, pressing the head of his cock against my entrance, already slick and open, so hungry, aching. The heat of his skin on mine makes me moan low.

Sure, I could keep arguing with him, throw accusations, but I want him way more. I want this to start. I won’t ruin it further.

There’s enough ruin around.

So instead I send him that miserable, pleading AO invitation, wordless but clear, begging him not to drag this out, to just give me what my hole demands.

Snow's face changes, becoming tense and wild. There is something almost animalistic in his eyes, reminiscent of a feral alpha.

He leans lower, placing his hand firmly on my neck, right over my scars.

His tattoos start to subtly pulse with tiny flashes of light running along them, as if mirroring the pulse of blood.

In the next instant, I watch as the sculpted muscles of his abs tense, the light flowing out of his tattoos as he drives into me with a deep, powerful thrust.

A cry tears from me, not pain, just shock, sheer surprise, because holy shit, it’s actually happening.

And then, in the next heartbeat, my body is ripped apart by an orgasm so intense I’ve never felt anything like it. I arch like a bow, taking him deeper in the process, almost swallowing, and my mind is flooded with a blinding wave of light, like a bolt of lightning striking my skull.

A wild howl rips from my throat, I just let it out, freeing myself from every last block. My hole pulses, the waves of pleasure slamming into me like I’m caught in an ocean, tossed by towering, crashing crests.

There’s this quiet, stubborn hope in me that it might still happen, that so-called First Orgasm, that somehow, even without the veradiol spike, the miracle could still take place.

But on the other hand, I have to remember that Snow is on suppressants, so there’s no way to definitively confirm if we’re True Mates.

The best part of this first climactic push he did?

This shit doesn’t end.

The room seems to vibrate with colors, the ecstasy just keeps going, and I’m trembling, shaking, feeling him move inside me, each thrust burying him to the hilt, impaling me, and all I can do is take it and shudder, gasping, panting.

My fingers clamp down so hard I feel the thin sheet fabric tearing.

This is too much… How much more of this intense pleasure can I take?

Apparently a lot, I know I need it, but it’s just crazy strong, so overwhelming, like Snow just pumped a massive ball of orgasmic energy into me, and now it’s burning me alive, ripping me apart.

Snow seems to sense my overload and slows down. I open my eyes and see his face—feral, unrecognizable, the face of someone lost in the fucking act, dissolving into it, his eyes blazing with intense violet fire.

He’s inside me, we’re connected, and suddenly I realize…I know what he’s thinking beneath all of this!

Beneath the raging hormonal rut… I can sense what he feels, like I’m really inside his head. I blink in shock as his thoughts drift past like clouds across a wide sky.

Snow… he’s sad.

Underneath the arousal, the release, there’s happiness too, joy that we’re finally connected, that it happened, but also a deep sense of regret that it’s unfolding like this.

That he can’t tell me what he feels, can’t show me tenderness, because I’d shut it down. He knows I wouldn’t let him.

That realization breaks my heart all over again, and makes me angry, too, because he’s the one who caused this. He’s the reason we can’t have what we’re both secretly craving right now. He robbed us of that, and now this is just ‘a heat’ with no space for something vulnerable.

And yet, ironically… being inside his thoughts gives me something back.

Because even if he can’t give it to me here, in some twisted way, I still feel it.

It’s like his mind is showing me a second version of this moment: softer, sweeter. In it, he’s kissing me tenderly, whispering quiet words, his hands gentle, our breaths synced. That image wraps around me, filling some empty part of me, and I realize I’m crying, tears slipping down my cheeks.

At least he didn’t take that away. Well, he did. And didn’t. It’s complicated!

I just clench my teeth, holding back the mix of sadness and longing for a version of us that could’ve been simpler.

"Just fuck me, Snow," I whisper, my voice hoarse. "Fuck me until it stops hurting. Until it burns out."

"Alright, Summer," he murmurs. Then he lowers himself, now his lips are brushing along my neck, tracing the tendons, grazing my scent gland. The touch makes me tremble.

His cock starts moving inside me in a slow, steady tempo; his body, heavy, hard, unrestrained, and powerful, pressed against me just like I’d fantasized before, the body of a dominant alpha.

Thrust.

Thrust.

Thrust.

I surrender.

I surrender to the feeling of being owned, give myself to Snow.

Even if I don’t say it out loud, right now, in this moment, I’m fully his, completely his.

I lift my arms and wrap them around his shoulders, pulling him closer, tracing the powerful knots of muscle in his neck and back.

I won’t tell him, but my body does—I show him with my gestures, how incredible it feels to be in his embrace.

My body vibrates, my hole pulses, clenching around him, sending little ripples of orgasm through me, fluttering around his shaft, milking it.

The rhythm of his body rubbing against mine becomes even, grounding. His weight, his strength, the touch of his warm skin: all of it is intoxicating.

I’m letting myself belong to him, riding a series of small, typical heat orgasms, like waves.

Typical? It’s not knowledge that belongs to me, it’s Snow’s.

I know exactly how it works for omegas, almost as if I’ve lived through many heats myself.

His experience guides me now. I know that waves of heat usually conclude through a series of small climaxes, one following another like notes in a rhythmic song.

But even they aren’t enough anymore. At this stage, my heat has already gone too deep, too far into a phase that demands something more, and Snow knows that too.

I drag my hands down his back, over his rock-hard ass, my fingers gripping tight, nails digging in a bit to feel the energy surging inside him too. His tattoos are shining brighter now, the light intensifying.

It’s insane how clearly I can sense his arousal, its force, I can see the wave of orgasm building in his body, electric sparkles rolling down his spine, and then—

Suddenly, it swells, taking physical form. I realize what just happened:

His knot expanded.

A breath rushes out of me, a mix of relief and pure pleasure. Yes.

What unbelievable luck, my first time ever having sex, and I get knotted right off the bat.

The physical pressure is intense, but the ripe heat momentum handles it perfectly; there’s no pain, no discomfort, just this overwhelming, blissful fullness.

His knot is positioned about halfway down his cock, which lets him keep up those slow, deep, massaging thrusts. The now elongated tip of his cock grinds against the tightly sealed entrance to my uterus.

The first heat is always in the early stages of its development, so there’s no risk of pregnancy, but the stimulation sends another wave of those so-called breeding orgasms crashing through me.

Fuck yes. Give me this!

I shudder for a while, arching my hips desperately, thrusting upward against Snow’s, my body taut as a drawn bowstring, shooting out the last few drops of cum. I’ve probably already produced enough to fill two glasses by now.

Finally, it comes… Satisfaction. Fulfillment. For the first time since this heat started, I actually feel it.

All afternoon, all night, those were just temporary breaks in the crushing, suffocating hunger. But now, at last, I can finally rest… relaxed, melting into the bed, turning into a puddle. I pass out.

◆◆◆

I wake up feeling movement around my body. My head is lifted, and I find myself resting in Snow’s arms as he brings a straw to my lips. What’s that?

For a moment I blink, still a little dazed, but there’s this instinctive trust in me, because even though he did something so unfair to me, I still trust him somehow. Maybe that’s foolish, yet here I am. I open my mouth and sip whatever he’s giving me through the straw.

It turns out to be a sweet shake, my favorite nut-and-caramel flavor.

It feels strange and comforting to rest in his arms, my head against his forearm. There’s tenderness and concern on his face, but when he notices me watching him closely, his expression smooths out into something neutral, detached, as if he’s just a caretaker.

But I saw it—the moment he looked at me with such softness. And it makes me want to cry, because I want to accept that from him, that gentle, beautiful energy, but I don’t know… how.

I drink the shake to the last drop, and he sets the cup aside before gently moving me from his lap onto the pillows.

The problem is, it’s starting again. And I have to get to the point… but how?

I give him a slightly embarrassed look.

"Fuck me?" I ask in a quiet, almost meek voice, glancing up at him shyly through my lashes.

He lets out a soft sigh and gives me a sad smile.

"Of course, Summer. Whatever you want."

I roll onto my stomach in one smooth motion and raise my ass toward him. This time, I want him to take me from behind. I plan to try every possible position during this heat.

A moment later, I feel his lips moving down my spine, then lower still, his tongue brushing against my opening, swollen, sensitive, and endlessly hungry. That teasing, divine touch only makes my need grow stronger.

"More… harder," I breathe out, my voice breaking, husky with desire.

He rises, and I feel his hands close firmly around my waist.