Page 25 of Omega's Fire

“Stop teasing,” I demand when he spends too long on my collarbones, my ribs, everywhere except where I need him most.

“Not teasing.” He looks up at me, eyes dark with desire butstill so fucking composed. “I’m being thorough.”

“I don’t need thorough. I need—” My words cut off on a moan as he finally, finally moves lower, mouth hot through the thin fabric of my sleep pants.

“What do you need, Leo?” He hooks his fingers in the waistband, pulling slowly. “Say it.”

“You know what I need.” I lift my hips, helping him remove the last barrier between us, too far gone for pride.

“Say it,” he insists, hovering above me, so close I can feel his breath but not his touch.

“I need you to fuck me,” I growl, grabbing his shoulders. “Now.”

Triumph flashes in his eyes. “As you wish.”

He stands just long enough to shed his remaining clothes, and then he’s back, gloriously naked and hard against me. The feeling of skin on skin is electric, drawing gasps from both of us. His hands are everywhere, mapping every inch of me, learning me with the same intensity he brings to everything.

“Stop analyzing,” I mutter, recognizing the clinical focus in his gaze. “Just feel.”

“I am feeling.” His voice is rough, strained. “Everything.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him closer, needing the weight and pressure of him. “Then prove it.”

That’s all the challenge he needs. With one powerful thrust, he’s inside me, the stretch and fullness exactly what my heat-driven body has been craving. We both freeze for a moment, the sensation overwhelming, the connection undeniable. For a moment, I can’t breath. Nothing exists except him inside me.

“Fuck,” I whisper finally, nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s the idea,” he echoes his earlier words, voice tight with restraint.

And then we’re moving, finding a rhythm that’s as much battle as it is pleasure. I refuse to yield, meeting each thrust withequal force, refusing to be passive even in this. Nash matches me perfectly, somehow knowing exactly when to push harder, when to slow down, when to change the angle to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes.

“Admit it,” he says against my ear, voice ragged. “We’re perfect together.”

“Physically compatible,” I concede, the words punctuated by moans. “Doesn’t mean—anything else.”

He laughs, the sound turning into a groan as I clench around him deliberately. “You’re still arguing. Even now.”

I gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Oh, God—there.”

“Here?” He repeats the motion, more deliberately this time, and watches my reaction in a way that should infuriate me but somehow makes everything more intense.

“Yes—fuck—don’t stop.”

“I love watching you lose control,” Nash says, his rhythm never faltering. “All that defiance, all that resistance, melting away.”

“I’m not—melting,” I argue, even as my body belies my words, trembling on the edge of release.

“No?” He shifts slightly, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me. “Then what would you call this?”

“Temporary—biological—necessity,” I manage between gasps.

Nash laughs again, the sound dark and knowing. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He speeds up, driving into me with a force that borders on punishing, giving me exactly what I need without me having to ask. It’s maddening how well he reads my body, how perfectly he responds to every unconscious cue.

“Come for me, Leo,” he commands, one hand sliding between us to where we’re joined. “Show me how much your body knowswhat your mind refuses to accept.”

“Shut up,” I growl, but I’m already falling, pleasure crashing through me in waves, whiting out everything but the sensation of him inside me, around me, overwhelming me.

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