Omega's Second Chance (Hells Wolves MC Book 4)

by J. L. Wilder

  She raised a hand, cupped his cheek gently, then grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to meet hers.

  They moaned in unison as he entered her. Weston came to a place of stillness, trying to control his breathing, trying not to give in just yet to the way his blood seemed to be pounding through him, reaching for her.

  She breathed heavily, breasts rising and falling, staring up at him in awe.

  “Move,” she said quietly, and it felt like a command.

  He took her hands, holding them carefully in his, pressing her arms into the dirt, careful not to put too much weight on her. He was glad they’d moved into this quickly, that they hadn’t given it too much thought. Their bodies knew what to do. And, he was amazed to realize, their bodies knew each other. Even though they had never been together before, it was as if they were coming home.

  He fucked her slowly at first, fearful of hurting her, but when she wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer and deeper, he could no longer hold back. He let out another moan and slammed his hips forward, the tops of his thighs slapping against her. She whimpered and gasped with every thrust, her voice increasing in pitch and volume.

  They shouldn’t be making so much noise, he knew. They should be quiet, should take care that no one should hear them. But he couldn’t help it. It was as if he was over the first hill on a roller coaster, and it was too late to get off. He was just along for the ride now.

  Suddenly every part of her seemed to clench around him, and her body stilled. A moment later she let out a long, sighing cry and threw her head back, exposing her neck. The sight of her in such surrender and ecstasy sent a jolt of pleasure through Weston, and before he could control himself, he let out a howl as he came harder than he ever had in his life.

  He rolled off her and lay on his back looking up at the stars, his hand still entwined in hers.

  “That was—” she couldn’t seem to find words.

  “That was amazing.”

  “Had you ever? Before?”

  “No,” he said. “There was only Lita, and she’s been with Gino for ages. I could have picked up girls at the bars, but I never really wanted to. I suppose they were all poor substitutes for you.”

  “Mmm.” He could hear that she was smiling.

  “Had you ever?”

  “God, no.” She shuddered. “Not with any of those humans. No one has ever been man enough for me to even consider it.”

  He slipped a hand beneath the hem of her shirt and rested it on the flat of her stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

  Her hand found its way into his hair and began to comb through it gently.

  Suddenly, from very far away, he heard the sound of a whistle. The train.

  He jumped to his feet. “Get up,” he said. “Get dressed. Quickly. We might only get one chance at this.” God knew he would have liked to stay there in the field with her for hours, learning her body, but who knew when another train would be along? There might not be one until tomorrow, and they couldn’t stay still that long.

  “Is it going in the right direction?” she asked, getting to her feet and tugging her clothes back into position.

  “I think so...yes, it’s coming from over there. Come on, come down by the tracks.”

  She followed him down. “How do we get on a moving train?”

  “Look for an open boxcar. I’m going to jump up, and then I’ll pull you up after. Be ready to run.”

  Once again, he looked for fear or doubt in her face, and once again she showed none. “Okay.”

  “Here it comes.”

  The train’s engine coasted past them. It was, as he’d hoped, moving significantly slowly. “There,” he said, pointing to a boxcar with the door standing open. “Start running now.”

  She ran after the train. Weston followed, waiting for the boxcar to pull even with them.

  It caught up. He tossed the duffel bag aboard with a pang of nerves. They were committed now—get aboard or lose the bag. “Keep running!” he yelled. He jumped and grabbed the handle on the side of the door frame, swinging himself aboard.

  Immediately he turned and reached for Charity.

  Her hand was there. He caught her by the wrist and pulled up sharply. She let out a grunt that might have been from pain, but she made it, landing on her knees beside him.

  The car began to pick up speed. They were heading into open country.

  They had made it. For now, they were safe.

  Weston crawled into the back corner of the car and leaned against the wall. Charity joined him, resting her head against his chest. Within moments, they were both asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  CHARITY

  For a moment, she wasn’t sure what had woken her, but then it became clear—the gentle swaying of the train had stopped.

  Where were they?

  Beside her, Weston was sitting up slowly, yawning and stretching, and Charity took a moment to relish the feeling of waking up next to him. That was another thing they’d never done before, and noticing it drew her mind back to the previous night and their encounter in the field. Her body was pleasantly sore from it, and she allowed herself a small smile.

  Weston got to his feet. “Let’s get off here,” he said.

  “Where are we?” She was already getting up, ready to follow him regardless of his answer.

  “Don’t know,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. If we don’t know where we are, that makes it more random. That’ll make it harder for Hawk and the Wolves to find us.”

  “You don’t think they could still be tracking us? Surely, they’d have lost us when we got on the train? We can’t have left any scent stronger than the smell of the fuel.”

  “We left plenty back in that field, though,” Weston said. “If they managed to follow us that far...I mean, we were right next to the railroad tracks. It wouldn’t take a moment for them to realize we’d probably jumped on a train, and then all they’d have to do would be to follow the tracks south.

  “But they won’t be able to guess where we got off,” he added, perhaps noticing the fear in her eyes. “And the more random that decision is, the better. Come on, let’s move before this train does.”

  She nodded and stepped to the edge of the boxcar.

  Weston jumped down. Charity handed him his duffel bag and then allowed him to lift her from the car to the ground. Even being in his arms for a few seconds was intoxicating. She wrapped her arms around him as her feet took her weight and slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt, allowing herself to enjoy his warm smooth skin for a moment.

  Weston’s breathing increased just slightly.

  “Not here,” he said. “We can’t do this here.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to stay outside when it’s lights out. We need to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to spend the day. Look.” He pointed to a cluster of low standing buildings off in the distance. “There’s a town over there. Just wait. We’ll find someplace.”

  She nodded and pressed her forehead into his chest, surprised to find that she wanted him desperately. She didn’t think she could wait. Last night had been one thing—she’d wanted him then, but it had been all tangled up with nervousness and love and disbelief at the fact that he’d actually come back to her, that they would get a second chance with each other. Now the rest of those feelings had faded a bit and Charity’s physical need had been allowed to come to the forefront. She wanted to rip all his clothes off him where he stood.

  But he had said no. He had said not here. He had said they would find someplace else.

  She would follow his lead. She trusted him more than anyone in the world.

  Weston slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and took her hand.

  The walk to the town took about half an hour, the most agonizing half an hour of Charity’s life. Every time his hand moved against hers, it sent shock waves through her, overwhelming her mind and her body. Every step he took caused his muscles t
o flex in interesting and pleasing ways, and she couldn’t help but study the way his ass tightened as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She remembered last night, remembered feeling that ass tighten under her heels, and her body flooded with warmth.

  She had never been so aroused in her life. Even the sensation of the soft blades of grass brushing against her ankles was intense. It was as if she’d lost a layer of skin, and every sensation was heightened in the aftermath. Once or twice, she almost stopped Weston. She almost told him she couldn’t wait anymore, that the town was just too far away and that he was going to have to do something for her right here and now or she was going to die of wanting him.

  But he had told her to wait.

  She waited.

  They finally reached the town. It was a tiny place, mostly small homes, a few gas stations, and a grocery store. A school. And—there—a motel.

  Weston made a beeline for it.

  The check-in desk was being run by a boy who looked barely older than eighteen. “How much for a room?” Weston asked him.

  The kid sized him up. “How long you want it?” he drawled.

  Was their need that obvious? Charity realized she didn’t even have it in her to feel embarrassed right now.

  “Say twelve hours,” Weston said.

  The kid snorted. “Yeah, right, twelve hours. Thirty bucks.”

  Weston took some cash out of his pocket and pushed it across the counter to the kid, who made a show of counting it twice before plucking a key from the wall behind him and handing it over. “Room seven,” he said. “Outside and down to your left.”

  Weston placed another bill on the counter. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me here,” he said.

  “Whatever.” The kid plucked up that bill and stuffed it in his own pocket before adding the room payment to the register.

  “Do you think he’ll tell?” Charity said as she followed Weston to room seven.

  “I don’t think it’s likely anyone will ask him,” Weston said. “The farther from home we get, the less likely it is that the Wolves will be able to find us. But if they do make it here, I’d give fifty-fifty odds on the kid keeping his trap shut. Which is better than nothing.”

  He unlocked the door to their room, led Charity in, and shut it behind them, throwing the deadbolt for extra security.

  As soon as he turned back around, they were on each other. It wasn’t like the night before, which had been intense but with a sense of restraint and care. This was wanton. They kicked their pants away, tore at each other’s shirts, and after only a few moments, they were skin to skin.

  It was heaven. After all the waiting, the long walk into town, it was like a burn finally being held in cool water. Charity pressed her body into his as hard as she could, squirming with a combination of satisfaction and the need for more.

  He worked one of his thick, muscular thighs between her legs, and she moaned in satisfaction as she ground down into it. His hands sliding down her back to grab the globes of her ass and guide her hips as they worked. She could feel him throbbing against the muscles of her stomach. I hope it does take twelve hours, she thought madly. I could do this forever.

  “God,” he said quietly. “You’re so amazing, Charity. You’re so fucking hot.”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and helped her to lean back, supporting her. As her hips continued to grind against his, he bent down and kissed along her collarbone, then made his way across the soft mound of her breast. He took her nipple in his mouth and treated it to the rough flat of his tongue.

  She threw her head back and cried out, feeling like she might fly into pieces.

  He moved to the other nipple and gave that one the same treatment, and suddenly Charity’s body was out of her control. Her hips bucked desperately, and she sobbed out his name— “Weston!” And suddenly she was coming so hard that she thought she might lose consciousness.

  The next thing she was aware of was being cradled in Weston’s arms. Her limbs were shaking. She couldn’t have stood on her own feet if she’d wanted to, which she didn’t. Being held by him was wonderful.

  He lowered her onto the bed, then lowered himself over her. She could feel him pressing between her legs, grinding against her, and even though every touch was almost more than she could stand so soon after her orgasm, she welcomed it. It was Weston. It was wonderful.

  He entered her slowly, panting, eyes closed, and she knew he wanted more and wanted it fast and wanted it now. He was taking his time for her sake. He was letting her adjust to him. She was grateful. He was so big, so strong, and she was still shaking like a dandelion in the wind. She wrapped her arms and legs around him to steady herself and breathed deeply as he began to thrust into her.

  The force of his thrusts was enough that it moved the bed. If Charity hadn’t been hanging on, she thought, she would have been driven into the wall. It was so powerful, so intense. She doubted there was any other man alive who could have given her something like this, who could have taken her so commandingly. She lifted her hips to meet him, taking him deeper, letting herself get carried away with it all, and when Weston cried out and snapped his hips forward, spasming with pleasure, Charity came for the second time.

  He lifted her up and carried her to the shower, bracing her body against his as he reached in to adjust the water. Charity felt as if she wasn’t even human anymore. Her mind had receded to a pure, animalistic place, a place that understood only the basest possible concepts—pleasure and trust and love and need.

  Weston got into the shower, bringing Charity with him, and held her up under the spray. She probably couldn’t have stood on her own, she thought idly. But it didn’t matter. He had her. He washed her hair with complimentary motel shampoo, tore open the bar of soap and ran it over her arms, legs, and torso, the whole time holding her propped against his own body.

  By the time he had opened the soap, Charity was fully aroused again, and Weston seemed to know exactly what she needed. He shifted his grip on her carefully, one arm wrapping around her to cradle her right breast, the other hand circling her waist and dipping between her legs.

  “You’re so needy,” he said, marveling. “Such an omega. God, you’re beautiful.”

  She whined, swollen and desperate, beyond words, and pushed herself into his hands.

  “I’ve got you,” he said quietly, his thumb circling her nipple as two fingers found their way inside her and stroked. “It’s okay, Charity. I’ll give it to you as much as you need it. Don’t you worry about that.”

  She lost herself in the sensations as his skilled hands worked her body, playing her like a delicate instrument and coaxing another orgasm from her. By the time they were finished she was sobbing, and Weston had grown hard again. He turned her to face the shower wall and entered her from behind this time, fingers still working dexterously between her legs. He fucked her slowly and gently, seeming to know how sensitive she must be now, bringing her gradually along.

  I can’t believe it, she thought. I can’t believe I’m going to come again.

  But the tension was building in her, a tension she recognized all too well, and she began fucking herself back onto him, increasing their pace. He picked up on the cue and worked his fingers faster, and as Charity cried out her pleasure, she felt a sharp pain where her shoulder met her neck, the stinging sensation taking things higher than she could have imagined.

  She started to slide down the shower wall, but Weston caught her.

  He helped her out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around her, holding her close. “I’ve got you,” he said. “Take your time.”

  “Weston—”

  “I know.”

  “It was almost scary. It was like I’d never get enough.”

  “You’re an omega,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Lots of omegas have trouble stopping once they’ve started.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I read about it.”

  She laughed shakily
. “I guess I missed some opportunities for research, living as a human.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll catch you up.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him, deeply and passionately, trying to pour every ounce of love and gratitude she felt into the gesture.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked. “The bite?” His fingers came to rest on her neck, where she’d felt the pain at the moment of climax. “I couldn’t resist. I had to mark you, to claim you.”

  “Another omega thing?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “Actually, it’s usually an alpha thing. The alpha of the pack claims his mate like that. But maybe because there are no alphas here...I don’t know.”

  “Could be that,” she agreed.

  “Are you okay for now?” he asked. “Think we could get some sleep?”

  “I don’t think I could do anything else,” she said, laughing.

  “Come on, then. To bed with you!” He scooped her up in his arms again, even though her strength was starting to return, and she felt like she could have made the walk on her own and laid her gently on the bed. Charity crawled under the covers, and a moment later, Weston joined her.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I’m so in love with you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Promise we’ll never be apart again?”

  “You won’t run away from me again, will you?”

  “Not ever.”

  “Then I promise. We’ll never be apart. Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

  “And I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

  She snuggled into his chest and felt his breathing become deep and even.

  She thought she might never fall asleep—she was physically exhausted, but her mind was going a mile a minute now that her ability to think and reason had returned to her. But to her surprise, she found herself drifting almost immediately. She felt as if she were lying on a smooth surface that was slowly tipping upright, allowing her to slide away into the abyss of sleep.

  She let herself go.

  As she tumbled forward into her subconscious, darkness closed around her, enveloping her, welcoming her, and she felt as safe and as comfortable as she did in Weston’s arms. Nothing could be better, she thought, than a safe place to sleep and the arms of her love around her, keeping her warm and protecting her from anything that might come their way.