Page 99 of The Rejected Omega

Our movements are frenetic, like it’s our first time.

His hands are everywhere—tangling in my hair, cupping my jaw, yanking my tank straps and bra cups down like he’s starved for the feel of my skin.

And I’m just as hungry.

I claw at his shirt, dragging it up over his head, and he shrugs it off, barely breaking the kiss. His bare skin presses against mine, and I melt into the forest floor. The severed bond lights up inside me like a struck match.

"Haven't been able to sleep without you beside me," he pants into my skin. “Leaving you in that bathroom—not knotting you—you have no fucking idea, Birdy.

His hands go to his belt, and we both spend a moment shimmying out of our jeans before coming back together with nothing between us.

His cock is hot and hard against me. The scent coming off of him is feral now—thick with need. I can taste it on my tongue. I feel drunk on it.

Connor’s fingers slide between my legs, and I gasp as he slips between my lips and caresses me. He groans, low and primal.

“God, Birdy—you’re soaking. Did you slick yourself as soon as you smelled my shirt? Did it make your cunt ache for me?"

Did he mean today, or three years ago? I can’t answer. My brain is static. My omega is clawing at the inside of my skin, desperate for him to claim me, body and soul.

He kisses every inch of my bared skin with reverence and hunger.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes. “I should have told you years ago. You’re so goddamn perfect.”

I writhe beneath him. “Need you.”

He settles between my legs, cock splitting my slick folds. I’m so wet I can feel it dripping down the backs of my thighs and pooling beneath me. I wrap my legs around his hips.

Connor slides in slowly, his breath hitching.

I groan as he stretches me open.

When he bottoms out, he stills, his forehead pressed to mine.

“Feel that?” he whispers. “That’s me. Right where I belong.”

I nod, tears slipping down my cheeks. “Don’t stop, Connor. Please.”

He kisses me tenderly and starts to move.

Every thrust is deep and deliberate, every roll of his hips stroking right where I need him. I’m writhing beneath him, biting his shoulder and dragging my nails down his back.

“You’re so tight,” he groans. “So fucking good. I’ll never stop. Never let you go.”

He kisses down my neck until his teeth drag over the delicate skin where my mating gland throbs, swollen and begging.

He licks the gland, and I arch off the ground and whimper. When he lightly presses his teeth to it, my vision blurs.

“Do you want it?” His voice is barely human. “Do you want my bite?”

My entire body trembles. “Yes. Please.”

Connor doesn’t hesitate.

His teeth sink into my neck, deep and sure.

Pain flares when he pierces the gland—sharp and bright. He isn't gentle. His bite is hard and deep. Sure to scar.

And then the bond snaps into place.

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