Page 5 of Omega

“A little,” I admitted. “But don’t stop.”

“Can you take it, love?”

I touched myself, fingers circling my clit, bringing myself closer, closer, but then Roth stopped me, the vibrator buzzing, touching me with it. I took it from him, pressed the tip of the wildly vibrating dildo to my clit and felt stars detonate within me. Roth was utterly still, half-impaled inside me, but I felt him trembling. Needing. Waiting. I arched my back and slid the vibrator into my opening, and now I was so full, full to the point of aching. I could feel his cock rubbing against the dildo, a thin veil of skin separating them, and I was coming so hard it hurt, coming so hard I was crying with it, unable to do anything but slide the device in and out of me, letting the smaller secondary part of the dildo hit my clit just so, just there. Again. Again.

And then I felt Roth spank me, and when I cried out he filled me yet further, pushing himself deeper into my asshole with a slow glide, his hips now meeting the flesh of my buttocks.

“Can you take it, Kyrie?” His voice was guttural, frantic, on the edge of control.

“Fuck me, Valentine,” I murmured, pushing back against him.

Oh god. It hurt so good. So deep. So much. So full.

And then…he withdrew. Ever so slowly. Just a fraction, but it had me gritting my teeth and shrieking into the bed, gripping the sheets in shaking fists…this wasn’t an orgasm, this was raw pleasure, a thread of pain to make it potent, a fullness that couldn’t be properly described, so much of him, all of my Valentine throbbing inside me.

“Jesus, Kyrie, you’re so tight it almost hurts. So perfect.” He pushed back in. “God…love—your asshole is so perfect. How does this feel?”

I couldn’t even speak. I hung my head and bit the silk sheet between my teeth and grunted, arching my back and writhing—more, I was telling him, shouting it, screaming it nonverbally.

“You like it?”

“God—fuck—yes!” I managed, my voice hoarse, raspy, needing so badly to scream like a banshee but holding it back.

And then he moved again. A slow slide, and I could feel the width of his cock scraping against the taut muscle of my asshole, each stutter of flesh against flesh making me shake and gasp. Oh—fuck. Fuck. He was pushing in, slowly. So slowly. Glacial thrusts, but nonstop now, drawing out…out…and out—and then…back in…fucking me slowly. Fucking my ass with all the gentleness he possessed, but his hands, oh his hands, they gripped my hips with bruising force. As if the grip of his fingers in the crease of my hips was all that prevented him from drilling me so hard I’d break.

“Fuck, Kyrie. I can’t take it, love. I need to fuck. I need to move.”

“Valentine…” I didn’t know what to say.

I wanted that. But I didn’t think I could take it. Not because I was afraid he’d hurt me. No, this felt so good, so perfect, months of anal play gradually stretching me until I was prepared to take all of him like this. I was afraid if he fucked me like he so clearly needed to that the orgasm would just wreck me, would ruin me, would shatter me beyond repair.

Another slow—ssssslllloooowwww—withdrawal, and an even slower thrust back in, so I could feel him enter, feel myself stretched further open as the wide hilt of his huge cock filled me. And then he was leaning over me, chest pressed to my back, hands sliding under to cup my breasts, and he was gasping, heaving, growling in his chest.

“Roth—” I gasped.

“I’m right there, Kyrie. I can’t—I need to go slow.” He sounded…shredded…as if his control was being sorely tested, more so than it had ever been before.

Of all the sex we’d had up to this point, and there had been a lot, I’d never heard him so clearly, audibly shaken by the potency of it all. I’d held him as he cried, yes. I’d fucked him and made love to him when he was an emotional wreck after what Gina had done to him. But that was all different. This was my Valentine needing to fuck yet holding back for me, holding back from what he wanted, which was utterly unlike him. He took what he wanted, from me and from life, and never slowed down or held back.

But this was different.

“Fuck me, Roth.” I reached out and grabbed a pillow, stuffed it under my stomach, drew my knees further forward, pushed back into him, driving him deeper in the process. “Just fuck me. I need it. I can take it. Just—Jesus god, just fuck me.”

He straightened behind me, stilled. I felt him breathing, gathering himself. Felt his hands on my back, smoothing down my spine, caressing the globes of my ass, pulling them apart and groaning as he pushed deeper. I could only breathe and moan and grip the bedding. And then, oh god. He pulled out. Almost all the way. Squirted yet more lube on his cock, slid in, pulled out, applied more still, and now he was pushing in and out in tiny flutters, miniature thrusts, and I was driven mad. I’d forgotten about the vibrator as I concentrated on taking in all of Valentine, and now I fumbled for it, found it on the mattress under the pillow, turned it up so it was vibrating on high, touched it to my clit, screamed into the pillow, slid it out, gasping, making a shrieking, breathless sound.

Roth fucked me, a little harder now. A little faster.

I touched my clit again, and was clenched all over by a wracking wave. But still, this wasn’t an orgasm. Not really. I slid the thick pink dildo—which I’d taken in the ass before, since it was smaller than Roth by a good bit—into my pussy and fucked myself with it. Slowly, at first, but then faster and faster, gasping, arching, writhing into it, letting the clitoral stimulator buzz against me. Roth couldn’t hold back now, and was moving in earnest, grinding in and out of me, and it was so much, so good, so incredible I didn’t want it to ever stop. I wanted to let him fuck me like this forever.

He had my hips in his hands again, tugging, and now slid one hand to the base of my spine, pressed the heel of his palm to my tailbone and gripped the crease of my hip in the other hand and I felt his hips slapping against my ass cheeks and felt his cock slam in deep and his thighs brush against the backs of mine. He was pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling with his hands, grunting, driving toward his own orgasm.

I felt him thicken inside me.

I felt him quicken.

I matched the now-relentless driving pace of his cock in my ass with the vibrator in my pussy. I was so full and being so thoroughly fucked, harder and harder now, that it was almost impossible to be able to even breathe.

“Kyrie—”