Page 87 of Omega
I was torn. I wanted him inside me, wanted—needed—to feel that connection to him. But I also really,reallyliked the way he ate me out. “Nick…”
“Yeah, baby?” He spread me apart with his thumbs. Flicked his tongue over my clit.
“I need you.”
“You’ll have me.”
“I need younow.” He ignored me, licking at my pussy like he was eating ice cream off a cone. Lapping, lapping, lapping. I moaned, and buried my fingers in his hair.
“I don’t think you’re ready. I think you need to come at least once, first.” He punctuated his words by sucking my clit into his mouth and sucking on it and flicking it with his tongue tip until I was writhing and gasping and grinding my core against his face.
“Fuck yes, Nick. Eat me, baby. Jesus, that feels so good.”
He pushed two fingers into me, and then added a third, and then pulled them back and thrust them back in, over and over, until I was grinding against his face and riding his fingers and moaning nonstop, riding the waves until I crested the climax, and I screamed when I came, gripped his head in trembling fingers and kept him tugged against me, writhing and rolling my hips into his madly fluttering tongue.
And then he was inside me.
All at once, hips between my thighs, huge thick hard smooth cock filling me and stretching me and leaving me breathless with the perfection of it all, my spine arching up off the bed, my hips crushed to his. “Oh Jesus oh shit oh fuck.” I let my knees fall apart and drew my heels up to my ass cheeks, grabbed two handfuls of his taut backside and jerked at him. “Fuck me, Nick. I need it.”
“No.”
My eyes flew open and met his. “No?” I sounded a little shrill, a little panicked. “Why not?”
“Because I’m going to dosomuch more than that.”
“Oh.” One syllable breathed from my lips, pure relief.
He lowered his forehead to mine and stared into my eyes from millimeters away, his breath on my lips, and pulled back so he could thrust into me. His lips met mine, and I eagerly deepened the kiss, demanded his tongue, held onto his flexing ass with one hand and cupped the back of his head with the other. Kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until we were both breathless.
I felt my heart expanding as he moved inside me, felt my pulse thundering as another orgasm rose up within me. This time, I welcomed the feeling, welcomed the emotion. I felt it, and let it burgeon.
I moved with him, planted my feet in the bed and lifted my hips to meet his.
I can say, without equivocation, that I’ve never enjoyed missionary sex as much as in that moment. Physically, it felt like nothing had ever felt before. Emotionally, I was a mess, but a beautiful, delirious mess.
“Layla.” His voice was low, intense.
“I’m here, Nick. I’m with you.”
“Do you feel this?” He placed my hand over his heart; it pounded as hard as mine.
I put my hand over his and let all the vulnerability I felt shine out through my eyes. I pulled down the walls and defenses and just…felt. “Yes, Nick. I feel it.”
He pulled his knees beneath himself, pulled my heels over his shoulders and pushed so deep into me my eyes watered.
Okay, fucking fine. I’ll admit it: I was crying, because it felt so good. “Oh god, yes. More, Nick.More.”
He thrust, slowly and rhythmically, unhurried. I reveled in each slide, closed my eyes and focused on the stretch, on the way his cock felt sliding in and out of me.
“Watch us, Layla.”
I opened my eyes and watched where our bodies were joined, watched his cock pull back, coated in my essence, and then slide back in. And god, that was sexy. Watching us, watching him, his abs flexing, his hands wrapped around as much of my thighs as he could grip in one hand—which wasn’t much—watching his face show his emotions.
“I masturbated thinking about you,” I said, apropos of nothing. “I would lie in my bed and picture you just like this, and I would touch myself.”
“How? Show me, baby.”
I slid my fingers over my slit, used my fingers to spread my lips apart and circled my ring and middle fingers over my clit, gasping at the intense ramping up of sensation. “Like this, Nick. Hard and fast.”