Page 20

Chapter 20

What Did You Do?

Sinclair

“ W hat did you do?” 1 The question slips out and instantly my cheeks warm even more.

He leans back and leisurely stretches his arms over the back of the U-shaped chair, a devious glint in his eyes. “You’re blushing, Omega. What do you think I did?”

“I don’t know.” I hate how faint my voice is, how unsure I sound.

It only makes him more arrogant. “Well, you must have had some idea what I’d do when you called me. So, tell me . . .” His tongue dusts across his bottom lip. “What do you think I did while I watched your tight little ass get stretched and that smart mouth take a rough fucking?”

I swallow at his crude but accurate description. “Took a cold shower?”

He scoffs a dry laugh. “That would have been the smart thing to do.”

I bite my cheek. “Hung up?”

“Another thing I should have done.” He tongues his molars and drums on the armrest like he’s having fun with this little guessing game. “But no.”

My lips quirk. “Threw your phone across the room?”

He looks down and shakes his head with another scoff. “That came later.”

“Later?” My throat goes dry.

With his chin still dipped, his gaze jumps up to mine like pools of dark ink with an emotion as intangible as smoke. “Yeah, later.” He slowly lifts his chin as he speaks. “After I fucked my fist cursing your name.”

My mouth falls open with a sudden strike of hunger. It’s all I can do to get out a one-word question. “How?”

His brows knit together, head canting to the side. “How what?” I know he’s feigning ignorance just to get me to say the words.

“How did you fuck your fist?” For some reason, saying those brutish words out loud was easier than my slow and tedious questioning. Feeling a rush of confidence, I push a little harder. “Will you show me?”

He turns his head to the side and drags his thumb across his lips with a deep breath as if in consideration. When he turns back to me, there’s a ring of gold around his smokey irises.

“A trade for a trade,” he offers.

My heart thumps against my chest. I know I’m playing with fire. I reach behind my neck and pull on the strings of my bikini top . . . . I just can’t bring myself to care if I get burned.

I unclasp the back next, then slip the entire thing out from under my loose tank. Titus’s eyes sink to a new level of darkness as he tracks the stringy top. I hold it out in my hand and then release it, letting it drop to the floor.

I lift my brow with a small flick of my chin, silently telling him your turn .

“I tried to fight it at first,” he starts, reaching for the hem of his tee shirt. “I was burning up. Hurting .” He emphasizes the word with a pointed look to make sure I know it had nothing to do with physical pain, but the ache that can only come from wanting something you can’t have so bad it tears at the fibers of your being.

He strips his shirt over his head, then gives me a nod. My turn .

I stand up and unbutton my denim shorts, careful when I peel them off not to take my bikini bottom with them. Once I kick them off, I sit back on the bed and cross my legs, the subtle pressure making pleasure zip through me.

Titus’s hands are already on his jeans, and they ball into fists around the waistband when he scents the resulting spike in my perfume.

“Uncross your legs,” he says hoarsely.

I immediately do it, not even questioning him a little, my omega nature taking over.

He doesn’t stand up to take off his pants, just lifts up his hips and slides them down his legs. My pussy feels hot and slick as I take in the hard cock tenting his briefs, desire sinking low in my belly.

He rubs over the bulge with unhurried, shameless strokes. “I was this close to hanging up, but then you looked right into the camera while taking both their cocks, and I fucking snapped.”

My breathing deepens, and my mouth waters as he teases the waistband of his briefs. He gives me an expectant look, and I know if I want more, I’ll have to give more.

I scoot back on the bed to sit against the headboard. I can’t look away from the gold encroaching his eyes as I shimmy out of my suit bottoms. He hungrily licks his lips when I draw my knees up, but I pull the hem of my top between my legs so he can’t see anything.

He groans coarsely. “That’s not fair.”

I can’t help but smirk. “When have we ever played fair, Titus?”

He tilts his head as if to say touché and pushes down the elastic, taking out his cock.

My heart trips over itself at the sight of his thick, veiny length and glistening red tip. Heat burns up my cheeks and chest, and I feel myself on the verge of going into heat.

“ Fuck . . . ” I don’t realize I’ve said anything until I hear his throaty chuckle.

“Now, get rid of that fucking top,” he orders in a low, rumbling growl. His already deep voice gets huskier the more the rut seeps into his veins.

My stomach is a mess of butterflies and somersaults as I lift the shirt over my head. My nipples are already tight and pebbled, and his eyes immediately drop to them with a deep exhale.

I crumble the tank into a ball and hold it between my thighs. He sucks on his teeth with a tsk and shake of his head, his thumb rubbing over the wet tip of his cock. “Trade for a trade, Omega.”

“It’s not my fault you have no more clothes left to barter.” My lips tease into a half smile.

“Then ask me a question instead,” he counters.

“Who was the girl downstairs?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and it makes a knowing smirk tug on his lips, as if I just admitted he was right and I was in fact jealous.

“Majestic. I used to work security here, and she and I used to . . .” He bobs his head for me to fill in the blanks. “From time to time.”

For some reason, that fact sinks like a block of lead in my stomach. A sour taste on the back of my tongue, I ask, “Did you sleep with her last time you were here?”

“That’s more than one question,” he says tauntingly. I don’t mean to, but I narrow my eyes, and he adds, “No, I didn’t.”

“Oh,” is all I can say, conflicted about the weird sense of relief I feel. Especially given what I did last time he was here, I have no right.

“Wasn’t for a lack of trying on her part though.” He doesn’t say this with any cockiness, instead as if he wants me to know purely for my own reassurance.

I tuck my unjustified envy aside and instead focus on the present. Titus’s forearms flex as he languidly strokes his length. One look in his burning gaze and I know he doesn’t want anyone else but me.

With a thrumming pulse, I toss my shirt and widen my knees to show him my pussy.

“Did she try to get with you before or after you ‘snapped?’” I ask.

“Before.”

My hand slides down my body and dips between the lips of my pussy. I glide over my clit and a small moan slips out. This makes him punch his hips up to thrust into his fist. The way his thighs tighten and his jaw clenches as he does makes me even wetter and my clit throbs.

He stands up and steps out of his pants as he slowly walks to the foot of the bed in strong, confident steps. He keeps stroking his cock, and my lungs squeeze as he puts one knee on the mattress.

For a few shared breaths, we pleasure ourselves while watching each other’s eyes transform to solid gold. He doesn’t move any farther onto the bed, like he’s waiting for an invitation.

“What would you have done if she came in after?” I don’t stop my ministrations as I talk, making my question raspy.

His voice is equally saturated in a haze of lust. “I would have bent her over this bed, shoved her face into the mattress, and kicked her feet apart.” His eyes flick to my feet, so I move them farther apart, spreading my knees wider and wider.

As I do this, he climbs onto the bed. He sits back on his heels and continues to jerk off, his hooded gaze lost between my thighs. His laser-focused attention is both overwhelming and not enough.

I want more, but I can’t have more. All we have is this hypothetical fantasy. So, I ask, “And then . . . ?”

“I’d make her present and use her for what she’s good for,” he says crudely.

“Which is?”

“Riding her hard while pretending she’s you.” He inches forward and looks down on my heaving chest like a starved man given a feast he can’t eat. “Or at least, I would have tried, but I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. There’s no amount of pretending that could ever be good enough. No one could ever be the same as you.”

“Me?” I’m breathless, holding back moans. His nostrils flare, and he nods solemnly.

His forehead frets, and he swallows before admitting, “No matter how hard I fought it, you were all I wanted.”

I worry my lip with my teeth and fight past the fear of being vulnerable. I slip my hand lower and sink two fingers into my pussy. “I still remember how you felt inside me.”

His eyes close briefly, and his throat bobs. He opens them again with a heavy exhale and look of dedication. As he scoots forward again, I widen my legs even more so he can fit between my thighs without touching me. His knees make a V so he can slide them on either side of my ass, again getting as close as he can without actually touching.

“This cunt always knew who it belonged to,” he says, staring down at where he strokes his cock right over my pussy, as if in a daze.

“Just look how wet you are imagining your hand is my cock.” His jaw is slack as he takes harried, stilted breaths.

“Fuck, Alpha,” I mewl, and he immediately growls, eyes snapping up to mine.

“Careful calling me that or I won’t care how bad the pain is and fuck you raw.”

“Okay,” I mutter between gasps as I thrust my fingers in and out.

“Good.” His voice is even more strained, like he’s really fighting the urge to say fuck it and bury himself inside me. “Now, tell me, what do you remember?”

“I remember how it felt to take every inch . . . the way you stretched my pussy . . . pounded into me like you owned me.” My pleasure winds higher and higher with the combination of the memories, the vision that is his chiseled body above me, and my fingers work me harder and harder. “God, you fucked me so . . . so permanently . Does that make sense?” I ask with a gasp.

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” He groans desperately. “I know I hurt you, but I made you feel good too, didn’t I? If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be soaking your thighs right now, would you?”

I shake my head, memories of pain and pleasure so intensely intertwined.

“One day soon, I’m gonna have you again . . . on your knees, on your back, legs spread or thrown over my shoulders . . . . I’ll have you begging for my cock like a good fucking omega, but I won’t give it to you until I make you come on my tongue again and again.”

He talks in a heated, tortured stream of consciousness, showing me inside his twisted but devoted mind. “I’ll teach you to ride me just how I like, and I’ll make you scream, scream so loud my brother has to gag you with his cock—god, you’re so fucking gorgeous with tears streaming down your face and all your holes filled. Fuck , I’m gonna come . . . ” He clenches his teeth together and his abs ripple.

“Fuck— fuck— if I can’t come in you, can I come on you, all over this perfect pussy? Paint you with my cum like you’re really. Fucking. Mine?” he growls.

I nod deliriously as pleasure spikes in my core, and I pump my fingers against my G-spot. “Please, please, Alpha,” I whine.

“ F-Fuck ,” he sputters then grinds out, thick and gruff, “ Mine ,” as he comes all over my pussy and stomach.

“ Oh god— ” I cry as my orgasm crests and crashes into me. I squeeze my eyes shut and dig my head back into the pillow and shatter.

When I open my eyes, Titus is sitting back on his heels between my legs, his chest rising and falling on heavy breaths.

In a sated, blissed-out haze, I drag my fingers through his cum as I sit up and then slip them into my mouth. My eyelids flutter as I suck them clean, the taste of our combined pleasure a heady drug.

“God . . .” He exhales roughly. “You’re going to be the death of me, Omega.”

I wipe the corners of my mouth with a smirk. “Good thing you’re hard to kill.”

1. “Drip Off” by Austin Giorgio