Page 32 of Trapped By the Cartel

He moaned, grinding against me shamelessly, seeking friction and relief. I could feel the heat radiating from between his legs, the dampness that coated his inner thighs—evidence of his desire, his readiness.

But still, I held back, wanting to draw out this moment, to build the anticipation until neither of us could stand it anymore. No need to rush anything, after all.

"Damon," he panted, desperation creeping into his voice. "Why are you torturing me like this?"

I chuckled, low and wicked, enjoying the sight of him writhing and squirming in my arms. "Because, little omega, I love watching you beg for my cock. And because I know that when I finally give you everything you want, it will be even better than either of us can imagine."

His breath hitched, and I felt his nails rake across my back. The bite of pain sent another wave of lust crashing through me, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

But still, I persisted, determined to draw out this moment, to make it last forever in our memories.

"And besides," I added, nipping at his earlobe, "don't you remember what we promised?"

He shuddered, a full-body quake that rattled him to his core. "Y-yes," he whispered. "I remember."

"Good," I growled, squeezing his ass possessively. "Then let's make sure that happens sooner rather than later. Because nothing—not anything in this world or the next—will stop me from making you mine in every way possible."

With a sudden urgency, I grabbed the hem of my own shirt, yanking it off in one swift movement. Elliot's hands were quick to follow, exploring the newly bared expanse of my chest, tracing the lines of muscle and the scattering of dark hair that led southwards. A low growl rumbled in my throat as his fingers danced across my abs, teasing and tantalizing.

Our bodies swayed together as we worked to shed the remainder of our clothes. My shorts and boxer briefs joined the growing pile on the floor, leaving me just as naked as he was. Our erections brushed against each other, and we both sucked in sharp breaths at the contact—a preview of the pleasure yet to come.

Elliot's hands continued their exploration, moving lower now, cupping my ass and pulling me closer. I could feel the heat emanating from between his legs, the wetness that coated his inner thighs. The scent of his arousal filled the air, and I knew that he was ready—more than ready—for what came next.

My hands mirrored his actions, gripping his firm cheeks and lifting him slightly, encouraging him to wrap those long, lean legs around my waist. He complied willingly, locking his ankles behind my back, and pressing his hardness against my stomach.

We stood there for a moment, locked in an embrace, our hearts pounding in sync, our breaths coming fast and heavy. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only us, only this raw connection that bound us together.

Slowly, I turned us towards the counter, laying him down on its cool surface. His body shivered as it made contact, a soft moan escaping his lips.

"Are you cold, little omega?" I murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. "Or is it something else?"

He bit his lip, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Something else," he admitted softly.

"Good," I replied, trailing my fingertips along his collarbone, his sternum, and then his belly button. "Because I'm going to make you burn, Elliot. I'm going to set fire to your very soul."

And then, I lowered myself onto him, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss that left no doubt about my intentions.

Chapter 15

Elliot

As Damon entered me, inch by agonizing inch, I couldn't help but gasp at the sheer size of him. God, how did he fit so perfectly inside me? It was like he had been crafted specifically for this purpose—to fill me completely, to stretch me deliciously. It really was something else.

"Fuck, Damon," I panted, clawing at his shoulders as he pushed deeper, deeper still. "You're so fucking big."

He grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye. "And you take me so well, little omega. Like you were made for me."

I nodded, unable to form coherent thoughts amidst the haze of pleasure that consumed me. Maybe I really was made for him. For this. For us.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he bottomed out, his hips flush against mine. We both let out a shuddering breath, our eyes meeting and holding. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but us—and the tiny spark of new life growing within me.

Damon's hand caressed my cheek, his thumb brushing away a bead of sweat. "Are you okay, love?"

Love. He'd called me love. I knew it wasn't some fleeting endearment, not with Damon. No, it meant something more. Something real.

He didn't say it just because it felt right in that moment, but because he couldn't keep it to himself anymore.

"I'm perfect," I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "This… this feels right. You feel right."

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