Page 96 of Omega
Harris’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. He cut a glance at me, and then hauled the mammoth vehicle across four lanes of traffic, jumping the median and plowing over a three-foot tall bush like it was nothing, barreling through traffic without concern for anyone or anything. Down a side street, around a corner, and into an alley, parking the Humvee at an angle in front of a Dumpster.
He left the engine idling, jumped out of the driver’s seat, leaving the door open. Stalked with harsh, angry steps around the hood.
“Oh shit,” I breathed to myself. “I done pissed himoff.”
My door was flung open, and his hands grabbed my biceps. I was lifted out of the car like I was a doll, set on the concrete, shoved flat up against the brick beside the back door of the closest building. I trembled, not quite sure, suddenly, of what he was capable of when he was in this mood. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but short of that? He was capable of just about anything.
Incidentally, the shove he gave me wasn’t entirely gentle. It was rough, impatient. I slammed back up against the brick, and the breath left me. Although, that had more to do with the look in Harris’s eyes than the force of his push. He grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them over my head—his own hand bore the rough bite of the concrete rather than my fingers.
“Say that again.” His voice was low. This was Scary Nick.
“Which part?”
“Say it again, Layla. You know what I mean.” His hips pinned me to the wall, and his free hand gripped my face, held me in place for a kiss.
I stared up into his eyes, my gaze daring, fiery, rebellious. “You. Are. Mine.” I breathed each word. “I donotshare.” I thrust my hips against his, feeling his erection pressing against my core. “Say it, Nick. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’ve got you pinned against the wall. You couldn’t get free if you wanted to. And you’re making demands?” He laughed, catching my lower lips between his teeth. “You’ve got some serious balls, baby.”
I ground myself against him. Pulled my mouth away, stared at him for a beat, and then darted in and bit his lip as he had mine. Bit downhard, and thrust rhythmically against him. “Say it, Nick. I need to hear it. I can be alpha too, you know.” I let his lip go, feeling a bolt of equal parts thrill and guilt when I saw that I’d drawn blood. “I’m yours. I admit it freely. You own me. You own my pussy. You own my ass, my tits, my soul. You own my fucking heart, goddamn you. But only if I own you too.”
He let out a snarling breath, reached down under my skirt, tugged the edge of my new underwear aside, and slid two fingers into me. I writhed against him, shamelessly seeking my own pleasure on his touch.
“Nasty girl,” he murmured.
“Nick, baby, you have no idea how nasty I can be. How fucking sexually voracious I am.” I rode his fingers with abandon, not caring that we were in an alley, in public, mere yards from a major Miami thoroughfare. “Quit changing the subject. Tell me what I want to hear.”
I was impaled on his fingers, rising up on tiptoe, and I was riding the cusp of orgasm. I would have done anything he asked in that moment, just to get him to let me fall over the edge. Yet there I was, making demands of him, as if he was the helpless one.
His mouth claimed mine, briefly but furiously. Our tongues slashed and tangled and he bit my lip, once, sharply, and I tasted blood. Payback. When he bit my lip, he curled his fingers inside me and smashed his thumb against my clit, and I came. A blast of pain, and an explosion of bliss.
“Fuckingsay it, Nicholas,” I gasped into his neck. “Fucking say it, goddamn you!”
He unzipped himself, and I felt his cock at my entrance. No pause, no warning, no fingers guiding him in. He just slammed up into me with unerring accuracy, filling me totally all at once, stretching me to stinging ecstasy.
“Oh fuck. Oh Jesus.” I couldn’t reach for him, since he still had my wrists pinned over my head. He was buried in me, lifting me up on to my tiptoes as I struggled to breathe through the orgasm still ripping through me.
He palmed my cheek, tilted my face. Slanted his lips over mine with possessive mastery. He owned my mouth and plundered my pussy with his cock. Pounded, rammed. Jarred my breath out of me. Fucked me senseless. I knew I couldn’t look away, and I didn’t try. I met his gaze without wavering, taking everything he was giving me and rocking my hips in a silent beg for more.
He gave me more.
Fuck, so much more.
The door beside us opened and a young man with a full hipster beard emerged, wearing a green apron, khaki pants, and a black polo. He had a clear plastic garbage bag in one hand, and a cigarette and lighter in the other. As soon as he was outside, he stuck the cigarette in his mouth, lit it, and then lifted the lid of the Dumpster and tossed the bag in. Took a drag. Two. Three.
Nick never slowed his plundering, plowing, driving pace.
And then I moaned loudly, a breathy, erotic sound that echoed throughout the alley, and the hipster barista spun in place. “Holy fucking Jesus! What the—? Hey, you can’t do that here…” he trailed off, staring, as Nick lifted my chin with his fingers and forced my mouth up to his. “God, that’s hot.”
Harris let go of my jaw, reached behind his back, drew his pistol, and leveled it at the hipster. “Fuck off.”
“Yes sir. Fucking off.” He dropped the cigarette and vanished inside, and we were alone once again.
Nick’s attention returned to me as he replaced the gun. “Where was I?” He thrust up into me, hard, and I moaned again. “Oh yeah. Right there.”
I hooked one foot around the back of his knee and surged against him. “Goddamn it, Nick.”
He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, buried his face in my shoulder, sucked on the skin where my neck and shoulder met, bit and sucked until I was sure I’d have a hell of a hickey; I’d wear his mark on my skin with pride.