Page 76 of Omega

I felt him start to come, and my eyes watered.

He cupped my face, thumb brushing over my lips. “Come now, Layla.”

I came. Holy fucking hell, I came. So hard.

“Say my name, Layla. Say my fucking name while you come apart on top of me.”

“Nick,” I breathed. “Nicholas. I’m coming, Nick.”

I felt him unleash. He bit my lip, kept my face pressed to his and kissed me dizzy, and his hand slid down my body and spanked my ass once, hard, and then, finally, he came. Jet after jet of hot seed poured out of him and into me, and I couldn’t do anything but feel it and squeeze him and marvel at what I’d never felt in my life before, the hot wet gush of a man coming bare inside me, filling me, surging up into me and stuttering in his thrusts as he came, came, came, his kiss fumbling as he lost all control, his hand on my ass, gripping, kneading, pulling me harder against him.

I ground onto him, clenched him with my inner muscles, and whimpered as I came with him, not coming again, but comingstill, a continuation of a long shattering climax.

“Fuck,” he breathed, settling back.

“Holy shit.” I collapsed onto him.

Instead of rolling me off him, he took my weight on his body and wrapped his arms around me, kept me from escaping.

Almost as if he understood the panic shooting through me.

A single tear escaped my eye, because I knew what had just happened had utterly and completely ruined me.

I’m so fucked.

14

DRAW IT OUT

I woke alone, slowly and disoriented. Sore. Deliciously sore, in all the best ways.

I heard heavy breathing, even and steady from somewhere in the room. Twisting and stretching, I rolled to the edge of the bed toward the sound and saw Harris, stark naked on the floor, doing pushups.

Which might just be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. His bare ass was taut and flexed, hard as granite, and the broad plane of his back was a ridged field of pulsing muscles as he lowered himself to the floor with exquisite slowness. His biceps bulged, gleaming with sweat, and he pushed himself up again just as slowly. He breathed out each time he lowered his body, and breathed in when he pushed up. Again and again, never rushing, never wavering. A hundred times, he did this. I know, because I watched each one, counting with him, fascinated and hypnotized by the sight.

Jesus.

And then he rolled to his back, touched his fingertips to the back of his head, and did the kind of crunches where he jerked his knee toward his face while lunging his torso forward, touching his right elbow to his left knee and vice versa. I know he saw me, but he didn’t pause, just crunched, crunched, crunched. Another hundred.

Hooooo, Lordy.

Then he stood, his feet slightly more than shoulder-width apart, and squatted, extending his arms as he did so, then stood up. Like the pushups and the crunches, he made each motion slow and deliberate and with total control.

I might have had to stifle a chuckle at that. I mean, how could I not? He was buck naked, so his junk was flopping all over the place, and it was kind of funny.

But then he finished his hundredth squat and his eyes cut to mine, he turned and stood in front of me, and I stopped laughing. Post workout, naked, sweaty, muscles swollen…Nick Harris was a fucking beast and I wanted him.

I stared at him, meeting his eyes, and then let my gaze slowly rake down his magnificent body to his cock. It was waking up. Stiffening, hanging down but starting to curl to the side as arousal sent blood coursing through it.

Fuck, I wanted him.

Ineededhim. I’d never needed anyone before, and it had me quaking with fear. I hated being afraid. It made me angry.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I slid off the bed and sank to my knees in front of him, staring up at him. He stood still, arms at his sides, breathing heavily. Maybe if I sucked his cock, I’d avoid the intensity, the vulnerability, the need.

I began slowly, intending to make a production of this. Make it good. Make it last. Make it the hottest goddamn blowjob he’d ever gotten, or ever will get. I carved my palms up his legs, starting at his calves and grazing them up the backs of his legs to his ass, cupping it, kneading it, digging my fingers into the impressively iron-hard muscle. I turned my eyes down to his cock, which was at half-mast, now. I held onto his butt and nuzzled his belly above his burgeoning erection, feeling it bumping up against my chin. Slid my lips around to kiss beside the root, and then touched my mouth to his tautening sack. He smelled of sweat, but it was clean, fresh sweat, and I didn’t mind it. It was a manly smell, masculine, arousing. I took his sack in mouth and felt his dick hardening against my cheek. A glance showed me his hands clenching into fists and releasing, and I flicked my eyes up to his. Snared by the fire in his green eyes, I couldn’t look away, wondering what he was thinking. He had his poker face on, only his eyes giving away the fact that he was feeling anything at all. I knew he felt it, though. What, I wasn’t sure, but something, and powerfully.

I let the length of his penis slide against my cheek as I drew my face away from his body, and then finally the tip of his nearly-erect shaft was bobbing at my lips, hardening and straightening. I gave it a lick, a quick flick of my tongue against the head, and Harris sucked in his breath sharply.