Page 22 of The Dragon's Omega

With one huge hand around each of my ankles, Vidar kept me spread and sated as he licked and cleaned me. He only slowed when I sat up straighter, and he greeted my bleary blink and lazy grin with a crooked smile of his own. We were both sweaty messes. My slick covered his face, his beard, his hair. Over the last however many hours we’d been together, our scents had intermingled, weaving together like a tapestry. The air around us should have been drafty and cool; there were grates everywhere, exchanging air with the outside world, keeping things fresh. But here, now, it was dense with his pheromones and my perfume.

We smelled beautiful, perfect, this new scent so soothing. Alphas and omegas had an insane sense of smell compared to betas, but I couldn’t tell what was him and what was me anymore.

It was just… us.

“Hi,” Vidar rasped.

“Hi.” After a contemplative lower lip nibble, I held up a finger, a silent command to wait, then rolled onto my knees and crawled up the bed. The alpha behind me growled, low and thick, and I paused to glance over my shoulder. He studied my naked body with massive pupils, his handsome grin gone, a feral energy radiating from him. Heat dribbled down my thighs, and I pushed forward to grab the most basic pillow of the bunch, the kind that could withstand some mess, and then scooted back to him.

Between orgasms, Vidar had given me snippets of a much longer tour through his magically enhanced underground hoard. There were, apparently, sleep spots all over to accommodate for his two primary forms. As a dragon, he snoozed in the mountains of treasure, which hadn’t surprised me. Movie dragons were always sleeping in their jewels and gold, so it wasn’t hard to imagine Vidar up to his eyeballs in the stuff during a week-long nap.

In his human form, however, my alpha preferred to sprawl. He waxed poetic about the delectable silks and outrageous thread counts, insisting that dragons loved comfort and luxury. Sleeping on a cloud was how he described this bed, and, honestly, yes. So much yes. If I wasn’t horny and wide awake thanks to this fucking heat, I’d be dead to the world, buried six blankets deep.

Unlike that first cave with its columns and torches, endless piles of loose gold and marble busts, this little nook felt almost nest-like, which I adored. Omegas almost always made their own nests, because none of us were alike with our wants and needs, but the desire for safety in a secure, enclosed space when we were at our most vulnerable was universal. Even if the climaxes had technically made me feel better, I was still in a strange place, riding out an unfamiliar heat.

Without any direction, Vidar had positioned himself between me and the door behind him. It was a nuanced promise that if a threat came barging in, he was the first and last line of defense.

The only one I needed.

And he was all mine.

Legs dangling over the side of the bed, I clutched the pillow to my chest and gave Vidar an appraising once-over. Messy. Messy and coated in slick. Before, I would have buried my face in this square beige pillow and squealed, because, ugh, embarrassing. Now, seeing my alpha smugly sporting the most intimate part of me, allowing it to smother his own scent glands, triggered a sense of pride that was foreign and comforting.

Still, it was a lot.

He twitched when I grabbed the end of his beard and tugged him forward. Then, without asking, I slapped the pillow to his face and rubbed.

“Omega.” Vidar laughed, the sound startling the butterflies in my tummy, the ones that had never taken flight for anyone before. “You’re stealing from my collection.”

“There’s plenty more,” I told him as he squirmed and fussed. If he wanted to, Vidar could have batted me aside like a bear shooing a fruit fly. Instead, he let me hook him around the neck and hold him in a pathetic headlock until I wiped the messiest spots clean.

Task complete, I tossed the damp pillow aside and kept my hands to myself—but still shuffled to the very edge of the bed. Vidar had taken a knee in front of me, but he was just so big and delicious and unf.

At five-seven, I wasn’t exactly a delicate, petite omega, but he made me feel that way. Maybe it was this mating heat, as he called it. Maybe it was the bond between our hearts warping my perspective—but I liked how big he was. Before, I loathed how much space alphas intentionally took up in public. They threw their size and dominance around, especially the unbonded assholes who had no one to rein them in.

The thought of Vidar throwing his weight around, this mountain of an alpha, had my toes wiggling giddily as I swept his messy mane away from his face. This time, he let me preen him, brushing my fingers through his beard, swooping his hair over his shoulders.

“I-I just want you,” I admitted, suddenly shy, unable to look him in the eye. “Not… my slick.”

Pressure met my wandering fingers; Vidar leaned into my caress with a pleased rumble.

“Have you ever tasted your own slick before?”

Cheeks hot, I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Obviously. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.”

Everybody got curious. Mine tasted like sweetened vanilla, which wasn’t bad, per se, but it kind of put me off vanilla-flavored sweets afterward.

Vidar’s hands settled on my knees, engulfing them whole, his gaze more black than green now, and I licked my lips as I leaned closer. My lashes fluttered and fell as I focused on his lips, and Vidar knuckled under my chin, then drew me in for a kiss.

I always expected an alpha’s kiss to be domineering and rough. Strong, assertive, and pushy as hell.

But the moment our lips met, time stood still. This was—soft. Sweet. Romantic and slow in the way we explored each other. It was quick pecks and stolen glances, Vidar angling closer and me bracing on his broad shoulders. It was… peace. Quiet. Perfect.

When he did deepen it, Vidar wasn’t a brutish invader. No, he cradled the back of my head and nudged at me, nipping playfully, asking for permission before slipping his tongue between my parted lips.

Bonus points to my forever mate for not trying to tongue-fuck my throat. So many betas had done it to me, like they thought an omega only got off on alpha bullshit and therefore they should act all macho and gross. Ugh.

No, Vidar tasted like vanilla, like me, and he was just as talented and, best of all, restrained with his tongue here as he was between my thighs. He knew when to push, when to pull, how to encourage my inner huntress.

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