Page 80 of Omega

“For Rio?”

“Eventually.”

“What—what—why did you stop?”

He was levered over me, face inches from mine, and I realized he was hard again, ready again. “Because I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You can’t get away from this, Layla.”

“Away from what?”

He pushed into me, entering me slowly, his eyes on mine, thrusting in to the hilt. “Don’t play coy with me, Layla Campari. I know you. And I know you’re fucking terrified.”

“I am not.” This was breathy, because I totallywasterrified, and I hated it, and also because he felt so goddamned perfect inside me, felt so goddamned perfect above me.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he said, and moved slowly, gliding in a smooth rhythm. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t disappear. I won’t let you down.”

“Fuck.” My throat was hot, tight. “Goddamn it, Nick.”

“You are the only person who has ever called me that, you know.” He bent to capture my nipple in his mouth, and then my lips. “You can’t escape it. You can’t stop it. And deep down, you don’t want to.”

“Shut up and fuck me, Harris.” I bucked against him, angry now.

He just laughed and kept moving slowly, gently. He pressed down on me with his weight, pinning me, and caressed my face in that way he had, thumb grazing my lips. “Oh, I will. I’ll fuck you every way there is, twice. I’ll fuck you until you can’t see straight. I’ll fuck you sideways, upside down, in your ass, I’ll fuck your mouth and I’ll fuck your tits, and I’ll fuck your sweet pussy until it’s raw.”

I gasped, blinking, as he pushed deeper, lifting my legs onto his shoulders and driving deeper yet. “Oh—oh—holy fucking shit. Nick…Jesus.” He was so deep now it hurt perfectly, so deep, filling me completely, stretching me and opening me.

“But you know what else, Layla?”

I took the bait. I had no choice. “What, Nick?”

“I won’tjustfuck you.”

“No?”

“Oh no. I’m going to show you what it means to be possessed by me. To be treasured. To be the object of devotion, and passion.” He moved, slowly, deeply, rhythmically. Gently. Tenderly. “I’m going to show what it means to bemine. And you’ll never want anything else again.”

Little did he know, I already didn’t want anything else. So ruined. I was so ruined.

Then the bastard messed me up even more. Right when I knew he was on the edge, and I was there too, he pulled out.

“I’m going to kill you,” I snapped.

He didn’t answer. He rolled us so I was on top, let me find my balance, and then slid his body down until his face was underneath me. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth—whatever the fuckthatbullshit phrase even means—I sat on his face. His tongue speared into me, and I gasped. Then his tongue flicked my clit, and I moaned. And then he sucked my clit into his mouth, shoved three fingers into my slit, reached up and twisted my nipple…and I screamed.

I rode his face like he was a goddamned penny pony at the grocery store, and he took it and ate me out until I was screaming nonstop and frantic and grinding my clit on his mouth like I’d die if he stopped. I just might have, you never know.

But the bastard wasn’t done. He justhadto up the ante, because he was a bastard. The best kind of bastard, but still a bastard.

What did he do, you ask?

He put one in the stink. Not the pinky of the left hand he was three-fingers deep inside my pussy with, either. No, he reached around my hip with his right hand and pressed his middle finger against my asshole. Already cresting the edge of orgasm, this was nearly too much. But just because I’m a glutton for punishment, I held myself back. I wanted that finger in me, first. I forced myself to relax and open for him as he massaged the rosebud of muscle.

I grabbed his hand, pulled it up to my face, and spat on his fingers.

No shame in my game, bitches.