Page 51 of Run Omega Run
Angus pulled back just as I came down from his touch. He gripped my body and flipped me over.
“I think she can take more. What do you think, lads?”
He didn’t ask again. Didn’t hesitate. Rough hands hauled me up, filling the last untouched part of me with a savage thrust that shattered me into pieces.
Bennett chuckled, positioning himself in front of my face. “Let’s see if she enjoys a spit roast,” he said, grinning. “Front or back, Angus?” he asked Angus.
“Always the back,” he said, laughing.
Angus pulled up my body until I was on my hands and knees, stretched my legs apart, and positioned himself just as the next searing contraction of heat rushed through me. I screamed out, mouth wide enough for Bennett to push himself in and Angusto penetrate me from behind. Instantly, the heat diminished and was replaced with the orgasmic sexual need for more playing, more pushing, and more explosive toe-curling orgasms.
Chapter 21
Cole
Angus’s mark was still fresh on her neck when I moved closer. The sharp scent filled the room, curling around me, intoxicating me. I climbed onto the bed, hovering over her. Fuck, she looked like a queen lying there covered in our juices. I licked my lips as I watched her writhing, kicking around the sheets, wanting... no, needing more.
Her body was still trembling, twitching beneath me, but I wasn’t finished with her. Not yet. The others were spent, their marks already carved into her, their satisfaction dripping across her skin was irrefutable proof of what we’d done. But me? I liked to drag it out. Needed to make her feel every second.
I didn’t touch her right away. I wanted her to feel the weight of waiting. The silence stretched, heavy, until she shifted beneath me, restless. That was when I caught her wrist, pressing it into the mattress, my grip unshakable. Her wide eyes snapped to mine, vulnerable and defiant, all at once.
Heather’s glazed eyes blinked up at me, pupils wide, lips parted as though even her breath belonged to me. I loosened my hold on her wrist just enough for her to believe she might be able to move. She tried—of course she did—and I caught her again, pressing her back into the sheets.
“Not so fast,” I whispered in her ear. My breath made her shiver. “You don’t get to run from me. Not yet.”
Her whimper slid between her teeth, soft and helpless. She squirmed beneath me, and I laughed low in my chest. I loved this part—loved knowing she was too wrecked to fight me but still too proud to beg outright.
I kissed a line down her jaw, deliberately slow, letting my tongue drag over her sweat-slick skin. Each pause, each brush of my lips, made her shift beneath me, restless, impatient. She bucked her hips, seeking more friction, but I moved to pin her even harder.
“Ah, ah,” I taunted, pulling back just enough to meet her wild eyes. “Patience, Omega. You’ll get what you want when I decide you’ve earned it.”
The frustrated noise that ripped from her throat made me grin. She arched against me, teeth clenched, hands twisting in the sheets. Every ounce of her was straining toward me, and I relished it. Drawing out her need was better than any quick release.
I traced circles around her marks with my tongue, ignoring the places she wanted me most. She gasped, then tried to turn her head away, but I caught her chin between my fingers and forced her gaze back to mine.
“You let them claim you so easily,” I said, my voice low, smooth, deliberately dark. I let my thumb stroke across her skin, a parody of gentleness. “But you should know, I don’t rush.”
Her pulse thudded against my fingers, frantic. She wanted me. Wanted this. “Look at me,” I ordered, soft but commanding. “Every sound, every shiver—it’s mine. Do you understand?”
She nodded, weak, desperate, and the small surrender pulled heat straight through my blood.
I leaned in, close enough for my lips to brush her ear. “I want to hear you scream my name.”
The sound she made then, half frustration, half need... went straight to the darker part of me. She writhed, testing my hold, as if she could slip free. I pressed her harder into the mattress, savoring the way her body arched, caught between resistance and surrender.
