Page 36 of Let It Snow (Eden’s Omegaverse #7)

A moment later, I’m impaled on his cock like a skewered chicken.

Of course, I come almost instantly, but in heat, that’s nothing unusual; it’s just how things go.

I bury my face in the pillow and let myself ride it out.

Good gods! It’s divine. To think I used to be so afraid of heat, not knowing who I’d end up spending it with…

But now, I just let myself drift through wave after wave, each one slamming into my body…

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

Orgasm. Orgasm. Orgasm.

I moan, mumble, whisper incoherent words I don’t even understand myself, probably nonsense, maybe a rushed confession about how much I love what he’s doing to me, maybe even how much I cherish him.

But then I quickly add how much I hate him for what he did, mixing it all up with other broken, senseless sounds.

Snow doesn’t seem bothered by it. Of course he doesn’t. He understands this hormonal state; heat isn’t a time when the mind works at full capacity.

And then the knot swells again, wow. From what little I know, knots can happen often during heat, but not necessarily back-to-back.

Yet Snow keeps giving them to me, like he senses it’s the best way to fully satisfy me.

Packed tight inside with his cum and plugged by his knot like a cork, I collapse onto the pillows. Sated again. Good job, Snow.

How nice… how peaceful.

That’s the kind of heat I can handle, not those awful hours I went through last night. Alone. Now it’s bliss, pure pleasure. I give myself to Snow completely. Guilt-free.

◆◆◆

When I wake up, it’s a bit of a shock. I realize Snow is lowering me into a bathtub filled with warm, foamy water.

I blink fast, still dazed.

"What—what—what…" I mumble.

"It’s okay, Summer. You’re safe. Everything’s under control," I hear his whisper. "Just let me take care of you, the way you wanted me to."

Oh, merciful heavens, how good that sounds.

"Okay," I murmur, closing my eyes as his hands move gently over me—washing, soothing—my arms, my chest, my nipples, my stomach, my crotch.

His fingers slide between my thighs, cleaning me with slow, careful motions around my oversensitive entrance.

I squeal quietly… The AO sound, expressing gratitude.

The warm water brings relief, but also a kind of bliss that starts demanding something much deeper. And harder. Inside.

Yeah, the bath is wonderful and relaxing, but as soon as he finishes the washing, I grab his muscular arm and whisper, looking at him with a pleading, innocent, slightly shy expression,

"Fuck me?"

"Of course, Summer. I’m on it."

He lifts me from the tub and wraps me in a towel, and I keep murmuring softly in AO, sending him little invitations and pleas, begging for deep penetration, for deep breeding.

Snow answers with a quiet, soothing rumble in AO, assuring me it’s coming soon, just a little more patience.

He carries me to the bed, and I immediately pull my legs up high toward my chest, giving him perfect access to my entrance.

Snow doesn’t make me wait; he sinks into me in one thrust, sliding into my slick heat with ease, like a knife through warm butter.

"My fucking Fate!" I moan, my nails possessively digging into his arms.

"Damn, it feels so good, don’t you dare stop! Don’t you dare stop, Snow, okay?"

"Easy, I won’t stop, baby. Enjoy the ride," he murmurs.

And I do. I ride wave after wave of orgasm, not even knowing what time it is or if it’s still the same day—and it doesn’t matter. I’m completely lost in the endless surge of pleasure, my moans and cries and gasps being the soundtrack of Snow’s bedroom.

◆◆◆

When I fall asleep, it’s deep, restorative, and just plain wonderful. But when I open my eyes, I catch a muffled sound.

I hear Snow talking to someone by the door. I don’t have the strength to get up, and honestly, I don’t want to. My body just isn’t in that mode anymore; it’s in the mode of being taken, being filled, being impaled. Using my legs is completely out of the question.

But my hearing is still sharp, so I catch every word of their conversation.

Lake says, "…I’m not sure if I can get rid of them that easily. They insist on seeing him…"

"That’s out of the question. Summer is in the second phase of his heat. Vulnerable, his body in full-trust mode. I won’t allow it to be interrupted."

"This man, some detective named Arnold, says an informant gave him certain information…"

"There’s a law protecting omegas during heat. If it’s truly important, we can meet him after it’s over."

Oh, fuck. So the FBI really did arrive! Or organized crime unit, no idea who they are.

It was a vague concern before, one I pushed to the side of my brain, hoping that somehow, despite being a mafia bride, I would be off the hook the moment they arrested my capo husband, but it clearly was a very naive approach.

In a sudden impulse, I call out, "I’ll talk to him!" loud enough for them to hear.

What the hell am I doing? I’m barely conscious. None of this feels real; it’s like a dream.

Maybe it is a dream?

There’s a short silence, then I hear Snow’s voice. He’s still in the other room, but with our hearing, it doesn’t matter.

"Are you sure, Summer? This isn’t a good idea. Things like that can cut heat short or mess with it."

"I get it. But call him in anyway, just him. I don’t want a crowd."

The moment I say it, I realize it’s a mistake. I can already feel the next wave coming, but it’s too late. Snow and Lake leave.

I look down at myself, lying under a thin blanket, completely naked underneath. Of course I am; it’s full heat. Clothes are impossible. My braid is a little messy, thrown back over the pillow.

There’s a protein shake on the nightstand, so I grab it and drink it fast, hoping it’ll clear my head a bit. I know it won’t stop the wave, though.

A moment later, I hear footsteps.

Snow comes in, followed by Lake and a man I don’t recognize, solidly built, around forty, an impressive alpha.

He’s wearing something strange on his nose. It looks like one of those breathing devices athletes use, only this one seems to do the opposite, restricting airflow. Clever. He’s trying not to inhale the thick heat pheromones hanging in the air. Okay…

"Summer Ferro? Hello, I’m Detective John Arnold."

"I prefer Summer Larsen," I mumble, surprised that speaking isn't as difficult as it used to be.

My throat feels a little tight, but compared to before, it’s almost nothing. Maybe the heat actually loosened me up or something?

The man glances over my thinly covered body, which annoys me, and it gets on Snow’s nerves too, judging by the low, warning sound he makes.

Lake reacts immediately, grabbing another blanket and throwing it over me, probably because my bulge is getting way too obscenely visible under the thin fabric.

The detective clears his throat.

He’s wearing a suit, the perfect image of an FBI agent or someone from organized crime.

"We’ve been looking for you for some time, Mr. Larsen. We only managed to locate you after you used your bank account through your phone."

Of course. The easiest way to get tracked. Idiot me, thinking I could dodge law enforcement and still use money transfers. I should’ve stuck to cash.

"Also… knocking out two alphas in a mall is a good way to bring some attention to yourself," he adds in a dry voice, almost threateningly, and I curse under my breath. I need to change the subject quickly. Any questions about how I did it would lead to bad things.

"How’s my husband?" I ask, my tone sour enough to curdle milk.

I barely recognize myself. But right now, in this state, nothing really matters except getting filled again.

Everything feels hazy, like steam in a bathhouse.

"Mr. Ferro sent over your divorce papers," the man says, holding out a stack of documents.

I grab them at lightning speed. Lake smoothly hands me a pen, and I scrawl my uneven signature where Arnold points.

"You’re officially released from all obligations toward him," the detective says, hesitating on the last words as if unsure how to phrase them tactfully.

"But that’s not what I’m here about. This just happened to come along, he asked me to help with delivering the papers."

I snort softly.

"I’m not testifying against him, so nothing to worry about on his part. I was never involved in any of his mafia stuff, never helped him, never witnessed anything," I say, reciting the line I’ve had ready for weeks in case this ever happened.

The detective exhales, sounding mildly impatient.

"I understand, and I’m not here for that. Mr. Ferro doesn’t need your testimony. His circumstances have changed drastically, but that has nothing to do with you. You’re not in any danger from him. That’s not why I’m here," he says.

"So why are you here?" Snow cuts in, standing with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed on the detective.

Dear Fate, he’s so sexy like that. His bare chest is finely sculpted. The detective carefully avoids looking at him, which makes sense; Snow is the physical embodiment of an alpha in rut, his energy fired up, intense, but I can’t look away. My gaze keeps drifting back to him, drinking him in.

And of course, I can feel the wave building, the tightening inside me, my hole pulsing in waves. It’s coming.

My scent must be growing stronger too. I can tell by the slight flare of Snow’s nostrils and the way he turns his head toward me, pupils blown wide. It’s affecting him. Oh, it’s definitely affecting him.

"Our informant inside the fortress says Rocco Ferro has shown some early interest in locating Sun Nolan," Arnold says. "He also mentioned that Rocco might eventually start looking for you as well. For now, he’s busy, not acting on it, but it’s a real possibility for the future."

"Can’t you do something about that?" Snow snaps.

"If the informant knows there’s a threat, shouldn’t you act on it?" Lake adds quickly.