Page 69 of Omega

Yeah, it is exactly that sexy.

And then his mouth was over my core, his tongue spearing into me, and I had to grab his shoulders for balance. “Holy shit, Nick.”

I went from turned on to orgasm in the space of a heartbeat. One swipe of his tongue against my clit and I was ready to come apart, aching, throbbing, a spear of raw intensity cutting through me.

“Come now, Layla,” he said.

He reached up and twisted my nipple sharply, and then slid three fingers of his other hand into my pussy. No buildup, no adding them one at a time, just a quick rough thrust and I was shredding into a million pieces. He sucked my clit between his teeth and flattened it against the roof of his mouth, twisted my nipple, withdrew his fingers and fucked them back up into me.

“Fuck, Jesus, Nick.Fuck.” I tried to push him away. “I need a shower, I stink.”

“Don’t fucking care,” he murmured. “Now…I told you tocome, Layla,” he growled.

“I am—oh…holyfuck—I’m coming, Nick.” I felt everything clench, felt my muscles contract, felt the heat blasting through me, a wordless moan escaping my lips. I squeezed hard with my PC muscles, clamping down as hard as I could on his fingers, trapping them inside me. He groaned at the pressure on his fingers, glancing up at me with an appreciative glint in his eyes.

Abruptly, he was standing up in front of me and he was kissing me, pussy on his breath and his tongue demanding mine, commanding and insistent. His fingers dug into my hair, trying to undo the rubber band keeping it in place.

“It’s an actual rubber band,” I murmured, breathless from his kiss. “Gonna be a bitch to get out.”

He reached into a pocket and I heard asnickof a pocketknife as he pulled my head toward him. “Hold still,” he ordered.

I sank to my knees instead, and got to work on his pants. I felt him playing with the bun on the top of my head, looking for the best spot. I unbuttoned the fly, and tugged his pants down, and they fell to the floor at his feet with athud. He was utterly focused, though, I had to give him credit for that. Even as I pulled his black briefs down and bared his cock, he was focused on my hair, cutting away the rubber band piece by piece until he could shake my hair free.

Only when my hair was loose around my shoulders did he fold the knife and glance down at me. “Still got my shoes on,” he said.

“True.” I leaned closer to him, teasing him, mouth close enough to his cock that he could feel my breath as I unlaced his boots one at a time and helped him tug his feet out of them.

He toed his socks off, kicked the pile of clothes away, tossed the pocketknife onto the pile.

And then he waited.

I took a moment to admire his penis; it was a lovely organ, long and thick with a very slight inward curve to it as it stood flat against his belly. That curve, I couldn’t wait to have it inside me, pushing against me just right, hitting that spot as he thrust into me….

I wrapped both hands around it and stroked him, and then leaned over him, wrapped my lips around the head.

I got one good suck in, and then he was lifting me to my feet. “Later, Layla.”

He twisted me in place and guided me to the bathroom, turned on the shower stream, adjusted the temperature so it was somewhere between cool and warm. Normally, I like scalding hot showers, but for once I was simply too damn hot and sweaty to be able to tolerate a hot shower.

Here’s a thing: shower sex isn’t actually sexy. It’s hard to have good shower sex without anyone getting hurt, and someone is always left out of the water stream so they get cold, and there aren’t really any good positions that don’t involve feats of acrobatics or powerlifting—especially when you consider that I’m not exactly dainty.

Harris seemed to recognize all of this. He pushed me so my back was against the wall, the water beating against my front. He had a bar of soap in his hand, and proceeded to scrub me with it, all over. He started with my face, telling me in a gruff whisper to close my eyes, then washed my face and rinsed it carefully. He moved to my neck and shoulders, tugging me forward to wash my back while kissing me between my breasts. Then he roamed over my breasts with the soap bar, and god, that was sexy, intimate, tender…too much to handle. I closed my eyes and let him wash me. Thighs, core, ass, all over, kissing me clean everywhere. I was breathless by the time he was done, and tried to take the soap from him, but he just knocked my hands away and pulled me under the water to wash my hair. He had bottles of complimentary hotel shampoo and conditioner, and used them both on my thick, curly black hair, working them in one after another, massaging my scalp.

I was finally clean, head to toe.

I reversed positions with Nick, and did the same for him, washing him from head to toe, but I made sure to avoid his erogenous zones at first. Meaning, I washed his hair first, and then ran the soap over his lean, hard, toned body, only touching his cock at the end. By this time his erection had subsided to a drooping semi, but I made short work of this sad fact. I lathered soap onto my hands and then worked it onto his cock and balls, massaging gently, just washing him at first, and then as I rinsed him clean began stroking him to full erection.

God, the man had a lovely cock. Seriously. I’ve seen and handled a lot of cock, and his was—objectively speaking—the best I’d ever gotten my hands on. I mean, it wasn’t about sheer size. I’d seen bigger. But thereisactually such a thing astoobig, in my opinion at least. It’s more about overall shape, for me. Size factors in, clearly, and Nick had size in spades. He wasn’t hung like a horse in any literal sense, which was perfect for me. I could tell as I explored his dick with my hands that he’d fill me enough that I’d feel pleasurably stretched. Big, thick, long, but just perfectly shaped, mostly straight but with a very slight curve, and that curve…I shivered with anticipation—when he was inside me he’d hit me just right, and I was looking forward to it.

Like, a LOT.

I may have gotten a little carried away, stroking him in the shower. The water had gone cold, but I didn’t care. It felt good, the cool water on my skin. I had both fists around his cock and was stroking him, not trying to get him off, just…playing with his length, pausing now and then to cup and massage his heavy balls, rolling them in my palms. No mouth, this time, I just touched. Learned. Explored.

And he let me. He watched, head leaned back against the tile, hands on my shoulders, thumbs circling on my skin in idle affection. And that idle touch, it was enough to make me almost panic, because it was unconscious, the kind of touch that means so much, more than any sexual touching. It was like the way he had of brushing his thumb across my lips. Tender. Affectionate. Meaningful.

When I had him breathing hard and had his hips fluttering with the smooth, slow strokes of my fingers around him, Nick lifted me to my feet, shut off the water, and indicated with a push that he wanted me out of the shower. He made quick work of drying us both, and then hauled me into the bedroom. Hot humid air immediately coated my skin. Nick’s eyes roamed down my body, and his lip curled up in a hungry smile.

“Now we’re both clean. No more excuses.”