Page 15 of Omega

“A wedding surprise?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

“But Layla and I haven’t done any real planning.”

“Once we’re at our destination, you two can go crazy. As long as you follow Harris’s security rules, anything goes.”

“What are the rules?”

“He’ll tell you when we get there.”

“When will that be?”

Roth lifted an eyebrow at me. “Soon.” He turned toward me and lifted the armrest up out of the way. “You aren’t eager at all, are you?”

I slid away from him, putting my back to the door. “No,” I gulped. “Not at all.”

He was all over me, a hand cupping my hip and tugging me down, toward him, pulling me horizontal. The movement made my knee-length skirt hike up to mid-thigh, and then Roth’s hands were helping it upward, pushing it up around my hips, baring me to him.

“Why, Kyrie…” he whispered, pressing his lips to my ear. “You aren’t wearing any underwear.”

“You know what being in a limousine does to me.”

“We have company up front.” His fingers trailed up my leg, tracing from calf to knee to thigh. “You’ll have to be silent.”

“I can do that.”

Roth just huffed a laugh in my ear. “No, you can’t. You are many, many things, my love, but quiet during orgasm isn’t one of them.”

“I can’t help it if you have a knack for making me scream,” I said, and then lost the capacity to formulate sentences, because Roth’s fingers were inside me, scissoring, spearing, withdrawing, smearing my juices over my clit and sliding back in.

I moaned, and Roth covered my mouth with his, not kissing but rather eating my groan, swallowing my sigh, smothering my whimper. I slid further beneath Roth, arched my back, ground my core against his fingers. Eager, hungry, ready. I rode his fingers, writhed against him, sucked his tongue into my mouth and tasted him, bit his lip. I fisted my fingers in his hair and let my knee fall aside, opening myself for him, hooking my other heel on the back of the seat.

“Are you close, Kyrie?” Roth whispered against my lips.

“Yes…fuck yes.”

“Squeeze my fingers, darling. Don’t make a sound.” He had his index and middle fingers deep inside me, and now pressed his thumb against my clit. I clenched my teeth on the shoulder of his suit coat, groaning, writhing, stifling a scream. “You’re there, aren’t you? You want to come, don’t you?”

“I need it, Roth,” I said past gritted teeth.

“Not yet.” He slowed his plunging fingers, curled them inside me to knead his fingertips against that perfect spot, the ridge high on the upper wall, circling my throbbing clit with his thumb.

I was wet, dripping wet, each motion of his hand making a thick squelching sound. He was alternating now, circling with his thumb and pressing with his fingers, and then switching so his fingertips swiped and scraped and pressed inside me while his thumb was stilled against my clit. No rhythm, no predictability. Just enough to make me need it more, driving me crazy.

I knew what he wanted.

I clamped down with my vaginal muscles, and he started fucking me with his fingers, giving me rhythm now. In and curl, thumb pressing in hard and fast circles. Harder. Faster.

I bit his earlobe and moaned as softly as I could, which…wasn’t very quiet.

“Shush, Kyrie, love. Keep quiet for me.”

“Can’t.”

“You can. Or I’ll stop.” He made good on his threat when I moaned again, his hand going still.

I whimpered in frustration, writhing against him, needing to come, needing to fall over the edge. “Roth,please.”