by V T Bonds
When my mushroom head brushes against the inside of her lips, she clamps them tight, trapping my sensitive tip. She circles her tongue around my crown and flicks a few rough licks against the very tip of me.
Stars burst behind my eyes and more cum leaves me. My muscles tighten and my spine throbs in epic bliss.
I release her hands and wrap my fingers around the base of her skull, my thumb resting under her jaw. The last wave of ecstasy leaves me, but I feel more ravenous than I was before. Her pheromones fill my lungs and the taste of her lingers on my taste buds.
She swallows and resumes testing my spongey head. I hiss and flex my hips, feeling her teeth scrape against my girth, then retreat.
I can’t leave her mouth. Despite having one hand in her hair and the other encapsulating the side of her head, when I try to pull out, she stops me.
With a suction so powerful I fear she’ll suck my soul out of my cock, she traps my shaft in her mouth. Her shoulders dip as she hooks her bound hands behind my left knee, stopping my retreat.
Her greedy growl vibrates up my cock and into my balls, and I have no choice but to comply. More release pours from me, and her growl turns into a delighted purr.
Fuck, she’s going to kill me.
The joy in her expression knocks me senseless. Never has anyone shocked me to my core, but this female has broken past every barrier I’ve constructed around my heart. Her flushed cheeks and blown pupils tempt me to throw her to the floor and mount her, but I can’t bear to shorten this moment. The peace flowing between our hearts is so serene I can’t fathom experiencing anything better.
She swipes her tongue up the center of my tip, then pulls her head back and lets go of my knee, but never releases her suction.
Tremors begin in my spine as her tight lips slide around my sensitive end, and I can’t breathe as she pops off the very tip of me. A shocked sound barks from my throat as pleasure-pain shoots through my entire body.
Large, half-frightened half-startled eyes fill my vision, and once I manage to get my breathing under control, I chuckle.
My Omega has a masochistic streak, and she may murder me without even meaning to. The fear in her eyes fades, and her eyelids lower to hide half of her blown pupils.
Chapter Eighteen
Britani
His low sound of mirth causes my heart to expand and my core to tighten. The melodious noise is almost too powerful with his taste still on my tongue.
I gasp as I try to understand what just happened, but his strong hands lift me up by my waist before I can come to any conclusions. His mouth descends on mine and our mingled flavors reawaken the desire throbbing low in my belly.
Slick drips down my legs, more accumulating to join what gathered while I was sucking on him, and my lower abdomen hurts. Despite my epic orgasm, I’m not satisfied. I need more.
His mouth leaves mine. I chase it, but his hand wraps around my throat and stops my advance. The heat of his palm sinks into my delicate flesh, and this time the thought of his teeth there doesn’t bring fear.
It causes yearning.
I want him.
Not just my omega instincts, but me, Britani. I’ve never felt so connected to anyone, not even my parents when they were alive. Remembering them has sadness peeking in, but the joy of finding this man props up the good memories I have of them, washing away the cloak of mourning.
I want to soar to heights unknown with him.
He turns off the water and presses the dry cycle. Cool air blasts against us, and we both hiss at the chill. His eyebrows scrunch as though a worrisome thought crosses his mind, but he catches me looking and smiles.
When I swallow, his fingers squeeze before he lets go of me. For a moment I feel bereft, but then the pressure of the ropes on my arms bolsters me. They feel like an extension of him, and I still sense his lips on my knuckles, so I relax into them. He grabs the rope between my elbows and leads me out of the shower, positioning me in front of the mirror.
When I look at my reflection, he stands behind me, outlining me with his dark form. The glow of the light off my skin is harsh compared to how it absorbs into his mocha richness, and I marvel at how feminine I feel standing in front of him.
Then I meet my own eyes in the mirror and see how much I’ve changed in such a short time. The green of my irises have been swallowed up by the black of my pupils, and the red on my cheeks makes me look animated.
I’m almost whole. There’s only one thing missing, and it needs to happen soon.
I need my lifemate. I need our full bond to flow between us, not this shadow of the true connection. I need this large Alpha that’s worked his way into my heart to do the same with my body.
I need Kwame.
His powerful hands stroke soft patterns across my shoulders, and goosebumps rise along my arms. The flash of his teeth in the mirror as he smiles makes my breasts ache for their attention. My already pebbled nipples harden further, and the once gentle current of desire bursts into a fierce hurricane decimating my insides.
A waterfall of slick runs down my legs, the sensitivity of my entire body too intense for me to feel any embarrassment over the display. I can’t get enough oxygen, and the cool air brushing along my body is too much. It’s too much of not enough. It’s too cold, too void, and not having his warmth there hurts.
He meets my eyes in the mirror, his pupils enlarged, and I whimper. Understanding fills his face, and his purr soothes my agitation. His muscles jerk into action, each movement sharp and intense, as though he’s about to lose control of his cognitive self.
I can fully relate. Instincts demand I take what I want, but what I really need is to have this strong Alpha claim me.
He grabs the ropes and leads me out of the hygiene bay, snatches two bottles out of the drink compartment, and sets one on the table. The bottle lid cracks open under his strong fingers, and another wave of desire batters me. He holds the water up to my lips, and at first, I don’t want to risk washing away his flavor, but he tips it anyway. I open my mouth, trusting him, and as the first drop hits my tongue, a fierce thirst rises in my belly, and I gulp down the cool liquid.
It isn’t as satisfying as his release, but my cells soak up the hydration and I feel more centered. Once I drink the entire bottle, he puts the empty container on the desk and picks up the full one. Watching his Adam’s apple move as he swallows makes my core clench in need and my mind stutter in awe at his masculinity.
His muscles are lean and agile, making his every shift full of power and predatory finesse.
He guzzles the bottle so quickly I only manage half a step closer to him before he slams down the empty bottle. I jump at the crack, but his hands are on me before I can react any further.
His thick fingers trace my cheekbones, feather over my ears, and brush my neck on their way to my elbows. He unravels my bindings, and an uncomfortable shaking starts in my stomach. His agile fingers untie my elbows and wrists before I can complain.
“Stop, Kwame. I can’t… I want… please don’t take your ropes away. I-I need them,” I plead, the shaking in my belly so much worse with the open air accosting my newly exposed flesh.
His resonant hum fills my ears as his hands smooth up and down my arms, and warmth flows into me from our heart’s connection.
“I need your touch, Britani,” he rumbles in tune with the melody, and the shaking lessens.
I don’t want to disappoint him, but the area uncovered tingles in an unpleasant way, despite his attention. Realization dawns, and words spill from me before I can stop them.
“They touched me when I did not want them to. H-he made me obey with his voice, forced me to stay still while they… while they inspected me. I-I couldn’t move, even though no one held me down. I want your ropes to hold me. I want your safety. Please bind me, however you want, however you can, just don’t leave me exposed. Don’t let me go back there, don’t command me and make me my own enemy, don’t-” he crushes me to his solid warmth and devours my mouth
.
When he pulls away, we’re both panting. My heart beats an erratic tempo as I wait for his words.
He gives me only one, but it’s the most meaningful word I’ve ever been given.
“Never.”
Keeping my hands bound, he takes one end of the rope and begins working it around my bicep, and I watch in awe. His fingers fly over the rope as though they were made to manipulate it, and in no time at all, from the upper swell of my bicep down to my wrist is covered in a beautiful pattern of loose knots. It almost seems lacy when viewed as a whole, but each knot looks like a work of art.
Because it is art. The most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me. I bend my elbow and marvel at how comfortable my arm rests in the binding, almost as though I’ve gained a second skin. As though he’s given me his skin, his strength, and his assurance. The shaking in my stomach dissipates as I admire his artwork.
My Alpha’s comfort still encompasses my flesh, causing my skin to spark in pleasure, and happiness settles over me.
He unties my hands, and I watch his every move, enraptured by the magnificent view of a master craftsman enjoying his gift. When he turns away, my heart shoots into my throat, but he pulls a knife out of a hidden wall compartment, slices the rope twice, and puts the knife away.
Then he turns back and begins creating an identical masterpiece on my other arm.
Slick trickles past my knees as he finishes encasing my extremity, and when he grabs my wrists and lifts my hands to his face, a lewd splash lands on the floor. The heat of his breath is the only warning I get before he swipes the flat of his tongue along my sensitive palm.
I groan and drop my head back, too raw to deny myself anymore. When he places my hands on his shoulders, I explore his smooth skin and firm muscles, touching and squeezing every inch of his upper body.
He snatches my hands when I aim lower, stopping me from enjoying anything below his waistline.
Desperate anger makes me snap my head upright and snarl. Instead of retaliating, he drops my hands and spins me by my waist, tucking himself against my backside as we face the sunken bed.
It looks inviting, like a pit of clouds ready for us to jump in together, but my hackles rise higher.
Nothing about it is right. A small voice inside my head rationalizes my need to nest, knowing this is natural now I’m Omega, but it causes discord in my mind, not peace.
Unnatural worry invades my thoughts, pushing my Omega tendencies aside. What if I can’t make a proper nest? What if I’m too Beta to do it right?
“Britani, make our mating nest,” he says, and though it is a command, it doesn’t feel like one. No weight of expectation lands on my shoulders, his voice's vibration soothes into my back, and comfort flows into my heart.
The urge to fix the pillows blasts through me as though my doubts never occurred. Stepping away from Kwame’s firm body isn’t easy, but the prickling wrongness coursing through my veins demands action. His hands caress my hips as he releases me, making his hot manhood our last point of contact. It rubs my lower back and scorches the top slope of my backside, and I long to turn and wrap my lips around him, but his soft purr urges me forward.
I use his encouragement and continue down into the pit of pillows, picking up the first item I encounter. Tossing the fluffy blanket to the furthest side of the bed, I sink into my task, letting my instincts guide me. I fling pillows aside, fold blankets, place cushions where I want them, and keep building. Time has no meaning as I focus on preparing my nest, and I burrow into the center. Not liking a particular pillow, I snatch it up and fling the blankets off, utter annoyance stealing my calm. As I poise my arm to toss it across the room, I meet Kwame’s gaze.
His caramel eyes hold joy and amazement, and he catches the flung pillow with ease. I point at the floor on the other side of the room, and he dutifully tosses it where I gestured.
He moves forward, but I warn him away with a chuff, so he steps back again. The softness under my hand snags my attention, and I go back to moving things around.
Mounds of cushions and quilts line my nest, and the weight of many layers of blankets comforts me almost as much as the rope on my arms.
There’s space for both myself and my mate, and everything is perfect. Except it isn’t. A spot down by my feet has a gap, perfect for the ugly pillow I tossed earlier.
A snarl of annoyance rips from my throat, and I peel back the top corner of my cocoon. Meeting Kwame’s eyes again, I point at the discarded pillow and hold out my hand.
With a sexy smirk tugging at his delectable lips, he retrieves the pillow and brings it over. Instead of taking it from him, I grab his wrist and tug him into our nest.
His masculine chuckle heats my core, but I huff annoyance at his position. I roll him in to place and move his arms and legs where I want them. Then I take the pillow and mash it into place before rearranging the covers overtop us.
With a satisfied sigh, I sink down on top of Kwame, resting exactly where I want to be. Another large inhale fills my lungs with his scent, and our purrs of contentment make every bit of tension leak from me. Before I can exhale, slumber claims me, even as molten desire fills my veins.
Chapter Nineteen
Kwame
My fingers twist in the sheets, but I try not to destroy the marvelous nest my breathtaking Omega made for us. The last twenty minutes have been the most perfect twenty minutes of my life, but they’ve also been the most torturous.
She has snuggled, purred, and rested. She has also stroked, groaned, and writhed.
I’m going to die if I don’t get inside her soon.
My cock leaks all over her ass as she wiggles atop me. Her thighs squeeze my hips as she grinds her leaking pussy on my lower abdomen, and I flex my fingers in the sheets, trying to let her rest for a few more moments.
Her tight nipples rub just below my pecs, and the cushion of her breasts make my hands itch to explore. The warmth of her breath puffs across my chest as she lets out another groan, and a dribble of drool slips onto me. I accept it, the haze of lust morphing the unconscious action into one of temptation. My hips buck despite my control, and more wetness spurts onto her.
Our nest smells splendid. I can’t wait any longer. If I don’t act now, I’ll lose control and turn into a ravenous beast.
Releasing the sheets, I stroke her hair from her face with one hand and let the other roam her back, trying to ease her awake. She rears up with no warning, eyes wide in the dimness, and grabs my chest with both hands. Her hips gyrate, grinding her hard little bundle of nerves in the puddle of slick on my abdomen, and a startled squeak bursts from her as she soars into orgasm.
More slick gushes from her, and as my cock glides along her lower back, my base nestles between her cheeks. I scoop up her release and lick it from my hand, keeping my eyes glued to her face, despite wanting to close them and savor her deliciousness.
She’s the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen, her orgasm chasing away every ounce of self-doubt she possessed. As she comes down from the release, her gaze settles on my face. Her half-lidded eyes fill with shock, and her hips begin moving again.
Sniffing the air, I check for signs of her heat, but beyond arousal, she doesn’t seem to be in estrous. Despite my aching cock, the haze of rut has not taken me, and the tightness in my spine hasn’t changed since I spoke of my upcoming rut in the other room.
I expected us to fall into our cycles, but it seems as though fate has given us this chance to connect without the all-consuming lust of her heat and my rut.
She moans, the sound filled with confusion and despair, and I spring into action. My palms grab her ass and pull her into position. She wriggles, upset I’ve taken away her clitoral stimulation, but I growl deep and low, too ready to have her around me to show any more patience. I surge upward and spear into her tight channel, and we both gasp as I fill her.
She’s too tight. Way too tight.
Cum spurts out of me, and despite the copious amount of slick eas
ing my way, she grips me tighter than comfortable. My throat hurts with the force of my gasped growl, and my jaw aches as I grind my teeth together.
I try to stay still, I do, but my body lurches beyond my control and I raise and lower her hips with my hands.
“Kwame, wait!” she whines above me, but her pelvis tilts toward me. A few more shallow movements later, and she still hasn’t loosened up.
Her sob stills my heart, and I drop my hands back to the sheets. The grip around my cock is like a vice, and I struggle to contain myself. My thighs twitch with the effort, and I grab at fabrics, uncaring about the nest.
“Britani, you have to move. I can’t give you gentle. Move, or I will take control, and I don’t want to hurt you.” My voice doesn’t sound normal, the growl too rough and the pitch too low.
She sobs again, but sucks in a deep breath and shifts so her weight is on her knees and her hands brace against my chest. She locks her elbows straight as her arms shake, and her thighs quiver as she raises herself.
“It hurts. Is it supposed to hurt?”
She grits her teeth as she sinks lower, and I try to purr for her, but it comes out as a strangled growl.
Slick squelches as she uses a bigger movement to raise and lower herself.
She feels like heaven and hell around me, too tight for comfort, but too wonderful to stop.
“Keep going, Britani. Just don’t stop. If you stop, I won’t be able to hold back.”
She whines but keeps pumping up and down. After a while, she gains ground, but her sheath still constricts around me. By now our ragged breathing threatens to shake the nest apart, and I’m dangerously close to losing control.
She grimaces as she gains another inch, and sweat drips off her brow onto my chest. Her legs shake as she raises her hips, and slick pours over my cock as she pulls too far away.
As my head pops out of her entrance, I lose it.