Page 50 of Omega Chattel
“I don’t want to wait.”
“In time,” he replied.
I groaned in frustration.
At that, he rolled away from me and before I knew what was happening, he was on his feet at the side of the bed. His robe was open at the chest revealing strong muscles and skin a shade darker than my own. His black hair hung shiny in his eyes.
I reached for him. He couldn’t leave me now. Besides, this washisbed. What was he doing?
He leaned down and picked me up into his arms effortlessly, cradling me as if I were a baby, my naked body pressed against the satins of his robe and the full heat of his body.
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face to his shoulder.
He swiftly took me into the shower and set me down, turning on the water, testing the temperature as I stood in the cubicle watching the water flow from the spout above me.
I was still in a euphoric daze.
Then movement drew my gaze. He undid his belt and his dark green robe shimmered as it slid down his body revealing all of himself to me.
My mouth opened. Water splashed against my lips and tongue and I gulped, but not from choking. It was him, Tarin, who caused my response. His impressive body, now on display for me, took my breath.
Muscles rippled, long and lean, his arms flexing, his chest expanding with his deeper breaths. His stomach was hard and rippled, his hips narrow but strong, and his cock jutted out of a shimmering thatch of black curls, long and hard, the balls beneath weighted by their own hugeness.
After everything that had gone on at the farm, and my short time in the Trenches thinking of my bleak and limited future, to have this fall into my lap seemed unbelievable.
In one week, how had I gotten from there to here?
Fated mates.
I could feel Tarin in my mind, but not all the way there yet. And a tremor sometimes accompanied his emotions, something different from pure arousal for a mate.
He still held himself apart from me.
Impatient as I was, I heard his voice telling me earlier:Go slow. You don’t need to jump in the deep end your first time.
But it was more than that. Tarin was wary with me. The hesitation in him spoke of more than he let on.
In this moment, how could he still be unsure? My desire for him nearly doubled me over. If he didn’t feel the same—
I couldn’t let myself think that. I reached out and touched his wrist, grasping, lifting his hand to mine. I wanted him under the water with me, hands all over me. I wanted to touch him in return.
To my relief, he stepped into the stall, his body towering over me, tall and strong, taking up most of the room. Everything heated up again.
His hip grazed mine. My hand went from his wrist to his chest and I couldn’t help myself, I had to press into his pectoral and run my hand over the curved muscle there, and the tight, hard nipple.
He was solid as stone. Like touching warm wet marble.
My cock sprang up again, half-mast. I felt barely used; I was ready to go, as if I hadn’t already come twice.
It had been so good, Tarin touching me, sucking me, but it was as if I had yet to be touched still, deeper, stronger. Maybe it was because Tarin had not yet come. Maybe this incomplete feeling came from him holding back.
I glanced at his huge cock again, which might nudge my belly if I took a step forward because he was that much taller than I, at least seven inches.
And with my mind on inches, I noted his cock was way longer than seven.
“Turn,” said Tarin.
I faced the water, my back to him, and from somewhere he gathered a palm full of soap and ran his hands all up and down my body, over and over my buttocks which he seemed to love the shape of, as well as how slippery the cheeks were when soaped up.
