Page 56 of The Rejected Omega

He grips my chin and turns my face toward him. He fixes me with a piercing stare. His dark eyes are blazing, and my body is on fire.

“Are you attached to this guy? Sure he’s ‘just a friend?’”

I ought to lie, but instead the words, “I’m sure,” spill out of my mouth.

“Good girl.”

Then he buries his face in my throat and snarls against my skin. He licks a stripe from jawline to collarbone, and I goboneless beneath him, all the rigid lines of my body melting into his.

He worries a scent gland with his lips and teeth, then laps at it like an animal dying of thirst.

He repeats the move on the other side of my neck.

“Still stink,” he grumbles.

“Wrists.”

He lifts my right hand to his face, expression crinkling at the scent. Then he latches his lips to my wrist and sucks.

My neck was more sensitive, but I can see him now, and he’s staring right at me as he paints my wrist with short little licks. His eyes are dark with desire.

He swaps to my other wrist and gives it the same attention.

The air conditioning blows against the wet patches lingering on my skin, and my back arches against him.

“Do you still smell him?” I pant. My nose is full of Connor, Connor, Connor. His sweat, his skin, his spit.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs. He lets go of my wrist, and the gland is red and throbbing from his attentions.

He ducks back beneath my chin and tugs on my hair to pull my head back. The tickle of his stubble against my skin sends me into a tailspin. He buries his face in my throat and sucks hard at the scent glands on my neck, alternating sides until they’re both red and aching and I’m a puddle in his lap.

Then he pulls the collar of my shirt down and licks my mating gland, too, and I nearly come.

“Oh god. Connor.” His tongue on my skin sends me into a purring, melted mass.

I ought to tell him it’s overkill, he can stop now, but it feels so good. Everything’s coming undone so quickly, spinning further and further out of my control.

He huffs against my shoulder, breath ghosting my skin. “That’s it. Smell so good. Smell like mine.”

I curve my head into the crook of his neck, where his mating gland lies dormant until his first rut, and rub my face into it. The area is red and swollen.

“Fuck, Lana,” Connor groans.

My body is on fire. His dick is large and hard against my ass, and there’s slick in my panties.

Can he smell it? How wet he makes me? Is this what things could’ve been like between us all along?

He sucks, licks, and kisses every inch of my throat, feasting on my flesh. When he finally pulls away, his pupils are blown, and there’s a feral edge to him. His thumb caresses my bared shoulder, taking care to trace the edges of my mating gland, and I shudder.

He pulls me into him and drags deep on my scent. His hot breath, his smell, his proximity—it's overwhelming. Slick drenches my underwear. I have to get out of here.

“You’re going into heat soon.”

I yank back. “How soon?”

“I don’t fucking know, Lana.Soon. You smell insane.”

I flush. Fuck. I need to stop and consider this, but I can’t think clearly. It’s like I’m drunk on him. I’ve let this go too far. I shift atop him, and he groans and grips my hips, forcing me to be still.

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