Page 29 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
Only a dream but a wonderful one. A dream he wanted to realize one day with this man.
Kensley didn’t know what to say or how to ask, so he stood there until Bishop’s cock began to soften inside him, answering the question of whether or not he’d come. Bishop pulled back and slipped out, and Kensley didn’t have time to miss his warmth, because Kensley’s limp body was yanked up and around, and he was enveloped by the biggest, warmest hug of his entire life. Kensley clutched at Bishop, shaking with need and shock and things he couldn’t name.
Pleasure was too small a word for what he felt in that moment. Joy? Contentment? Love? He didn’t know.
His strength gave out. Kensley was vaguely aware of being swept up into Bishop’s capable arms. Carried out of the hot sea air and into someplace cooler. Something soft at his back. Bishop snuggling up close. Kensley reached for words, for something to express how he felt, to show Bishop how much he adored this.
Maybe it was their long day of travel. Maybe it was endorphins from their mind-blowing sex. Kensley didn’t know why he fell asleep almost immediately, only that he did so while being held like he was the most precious jewel on earth.
SEVEN
Bishop wokeafter the sun had set, disoriented and annoyed at himself, and unsure why. Not for the sex. He’d never had sex as life-altering as what he’d shared with Kensley by the hot tub, and he had no words to describe it. He’d loved every explosive second, even those moments post-orgasm when his muscles had been locked in place, not allowing him to do anything but grind into Kensley’s ass, desperate to keep his come inside his lover. His most primal urges had imagined him shooting right into his omega’s womb, impregnating him with their child, binding them together for the rest of their lives.
The idea of wanting a family with Kensley, when omega pregnancies were already so rare and often scorned by society, had left Bishop irritated while he lounged in bed, staring up at the ceiling, aware of Kensley snoring lightly beside him. Dreams of a normal life with a spouse and children had been something for nighttime, for his sleeping brain to deliver in short bursts, until reality woke him back up.
His lifestyle wasn’t fit for those things. It was why he only indulged in the occasional one-night-stand. Anyone he chose to love would constantly be in danger.
Like Kensley was in danger now, through no fault of Bishop’s. King should have sent Kensley far away years ago, out of the country if possible, but King had wanted to be able to monitor his little brother. To offer protection when necessary, and it became all too necessary on Saturday night. Bishop wouldn’t change a single thing about these last few days with Kensley; he was also smart enough to recognize how fragile their current peace and safety were.
Bishop slowly eased up so he was sitting against the headboard, reluctant to wake Kensley yet. His sweet, sexy omega was sprawled on his back in a way that took up almost half of the king-size bed, a sheet drawn up to mid-chest, one arm thrown across his eyes, even though the room was shadowy and mostly dark. Moonlight spilled in from the massive windows, because Bishop hadn’t drawn the curtains before falling asleep.
He trusted the bullet-proof glass, but he did not trust Walsh. Not with Kensley’s life and safety. The only person Bishop trusted with Kens was himself.
Kensley mumbled and that outstretched arm flopped down to cover his belly almost protectively, without ever waking. Bishop stared at his hand, imagining it resting over a much rounder belly, one holding their child. That belly growing larger as the months passed, until his precious Kensley gave birth, and they finally held their son or daughter in their arms.
He could see it. He wanted it more than life itself.
But he couldn’t have it.
Could he?
His stomach gurgled, reminding him they still hadn’t eaten. Eager to please his omega, Bishop slid out of bed, found a light silk robe, and quietly closed the curtains in the bedroom before seeking out the kitchen. A package of strip steaks in the fridge begged to be cooked, so Bishop set about preparing a hearty meal to refuel them both. Bishop had promised to make Kensleysit on his cock in the hot tub, and that was still happening in the near future.
Remembering the way Kensley had lost his mind tonight, being fucked over the hot tub cover, gave Bishop a half-boner the entire time he cooked. The scent of the searing meat must have roused Kensley, because he shuffled into the kitchen wearing an identical robe, his hair damp from the shower. He brought with him the delightful scent of coconut, possibly from the shampoo.
“I thought I smelled something amazing,” Kensley said. “I’m starving.”
“Me too. The fridge has all kinds of drink options, so help yourself to whatever you’re in the mood for.”
“Hmm.” Kensley inspected the fridge’s contents, and Bishop observed his profile. The way his eyebrows lifted and his lips parted in surprise. An entire shelf was stocked with canned beer and soda, and bottles of plain and flavored water, plus containers of juice and two bottles of wine. And there should be more in the pantry to replenish whatever they drank.
Kensley surprised him by selecting a beer. “I’ve never had beer before.”
Bishop smiled and tested the doneness of the meat with his finger. “It’s not something everyone likes, especially if you aren’t into bitter notes.”
“Do you?”
“Definitely. It’s a simple way to take the edge off a stressful day without losing control.”
“Good. Then you can drink the rest if I hate it.” With a bright grin, Kensley popped the tab, sniffed at the opening, and then snorted hard. “Bubbles.”
Bishop laughed. “Don’t stick your nose in it, goofball. Just take a big swig.”
Kensley shrugged. “Bottom’s up.” He did as told, his throat working down three long gulps before lowering the can. Heshuddered once, and then thrust the can at Bishop. “Okay, that’s not...no, thank you.”
“It’s an acquired taste.” Bishop downed the rest of the beer, which wasn’t much, and that impressed him a little. Kensley was not shy about trying new things. “Wine might be more to your taste.”
“I don’t think I want the alcohol, anyway.” He grabbed a can of what looked like root beer and cracked it. Drank some and smacked his lips. “Much better. I remember loving root beer so much when I was young. We never had it at the abbey.”
