Page 82 of Omega

“You are.”

“No, I’m not. It’s just a dick move to brag about how many women you’ve fucked while you’re in the middle of fucking a woman.”

“I wasn’t bragging. Just stating a fact.”

“Why are we having this conversation?” I asked. “Why now?”

“Because you’re trying to avoid me. You thought you could avoid me by going down on me.” Just to make sure things stayed…relevant, he pushed up into me, pulling a gasp from me. “You can’t avoid this. It’s real. It’s happening. It’sbeenhappening.”

“I’m not avoiding anything.”

“You’re a shitty liar, Layla.”

I was, though. The man knew me. I was a bad liar, and I was lying.

“Goddamn it, Nick. What the hell do you want from me?”

“I want you to admit this is more than just outrageously incredible sex. It’s more than just a good hard fucking.” He pulled my hair again so I was leaning backward, spine arched, and he leaned backward as well, reaching between our bodies to caress my clit. He fucked me, then, moving hard and fast, pounding into me over and over, driving up with all of his considerable power so our bodies crashed together with aslapslapslapslapof flesh on flesh.

My tits bounced roughly on my chest, my ass hit his thighs and shook like gelatine.

God, I loved it.

“You like that, don’t you, Layla?”

“Fuck yes,” I admitted, breathless.

“You like it when I fuck you so hard you can’t see straight.”

“Don’t stop, Harris. Please, don’t stop.”

He stopped.

He let go of my hair and tipped me backward so I hit the mattress, and then he was over me, above me, still inside me, his hand on the back of my knee stretching my leg up toward my chest, splitting me open, pushing deeper and deeper. He pinned my knee in place with his arm, and his free hand brushed my hair out of my face.

And he moved, slowly, gently, with a rhythm so smooth there was no way for me to know where the thrust in stopped and the pull out began.

“How about this?” he asked. “Do you like this?”

I whimpered in answer. Lifted my hips to meet his. “Yes,” was all I could say.

“Is this fucking?”

I shook my head. “No.”

He let go of my leg, and I wrapped my heels around his back. He braced himself with his hands beside my face, and just moved, plain vanilla missionary. It had never felt so good.

Or so intimate.

“What about this?”

“Shut up, Nick.”

“What am I doing to you, right now? What is this, Layla?”

“Goddamn it.” I knew what he was doing, and I didn’t dare say it.

He lifted a palm and did his thing, cupping my cheek, brushing a thumb over my lips. Bent, kissed my chest, between my breasts. The slope of one breast. Licked a nipple, crossed to the other side and kissed the slope of that one, the wide dark areola and the thick, nearly black nipple.