Page 58 of Vallaverse: Twist
“Brooks, is everything alright?” someone asks, but I might as well be deaf to anything but the sound of Laz's shallow breaths.
Laz wraps his hand around the base of his cock and squeezes. His eyes flutter shut and his head tips back, but he doesn't make a sound as a heavy drop of precum leaks from his tip to pool on the shiny surface of my desk.
Well, that's done it.
“Gentlemen,” I start, my voice much deeper and rougher than the last time I spoke to them. “I'm afraid I need to cut this meeting short. Something pressing has come up. I'll be in touch soon.”
Exiting the meeting, I close my laptop and slowly rise to my feet. Laz may be tempting me to abandon my better senses and ravish him, but I need to be careful. Every single thing I do mustremain intentional. This will be my first opportunity to help him through a heat spike. I refuse to allow myself to lose control and possibly hurt him.
My fingers tremble under the strain of undoing the buttons on my shirt rather than ripping the fabric apart and scattering buttons across the room. My shoulders ache with the effort it takes to slide the shirt over my shoulders and down my arms. It physically pains me to fold the shirt in half and drape it over the back of my chair.
Then he strokes down his length and makes a sound of such tortured need that it almost destroys my determination. An involuntary growl begins deep in my chest, and he responds to it with a sigh.
I'm not going to make it through this. Not with any amount of sanity. It's been too long since I've had him like this. The chemically induced fog he was in for weeks at a time was intense, but this is genuine Omega heat. This is real.
I lower my fingers to my belt buckle, the sound of me unfastening it loud in the room.
Laz groans when he hears it, his hips thrusting into the tight grip of his fist. “Brooks,” he gasps. “Please.”
My engorged cock presses urgently against my zipper as I slide it down. I let my pants fall to the floor, and I step out of them, but I keep my boxers on. There are things I want to do to Laz before I finally let myself sink into his heavenly depth, and the thin material will be enough of a reminder to remember them in the throes of this.
When I drag my gaze back up his torso to his face, he's watching me through slitted eyes.
“Don't stop, gorgeous,” I purr. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
“You've seen it before,” he pants.
“I want to see it again,” I tell him as I sit back down on my chair. I lean forward far enough so that I can prop myself up on my elbows and rest my chin on my hands, just a scant few inches in front of his swollen head. “Show me again.”
“It's nothing special,” he says softly, his eyes closing to hide the shame he's determined to carry.
“Give me what I want, Omega,” I growl, letting just enough command into my voice to overpower any doubt he might have.
Laz whimpers and lets his head drop back again as his fist slowly moves down his shaft.
“There you go, beautiful,” I roughly encourage. “Keep going.”
He strokes himself while I watch, need dripping from him right in front of my face. It's all I can do to stop myself from stretching out my tongue and lapping at him. I watch his wrist flex as he twists his grip from base to tip, over and over, until the muscles in his thighs are visibly trembling. Then I take him into my mouth.
He gasps harshly, coming up onto his knees and catching himself on my shoulders to keep from tumbling over me and onto the floor. “Brooks,” he pants.
I swirl my tongue around him once, savoring his taste, before letting him slip from my lips. “Did I tell you to stop jerking off?”
“Brooks,” he argues, but he loses his words when I look up at him.
“Did I tell you to stop?”
He shakes his head.
I raise my brows.
He takes a breath and leans back again and wraps his fist back around his shaft.
“There you go,” I encourage. I wait until he's worked himself back into a breathless rhythm before I open my mouth again.
I don't suck or lick. I simply let him jerk himself into my wide-open mouth, swallowing every drop that leaks onto my waitingtongue. I can feel his gaze on me, and I glance up. I find him staring down at me, his eyes dark and deeply hooded, his teeth sunk into his soft bottom lip. Fucking beautiful.
But it isn't enough. I know he needs more than this. We're both at the mercy of the spike he’s trying to stay on top of, and we're both losing.
