Page 193 of Star Claimed Omega
Even sleeping, her face held an echo of sadness.
Strength too. Like she’d been reforged in silence, her experiences carving even more grace into her.
Her eyes fluttered open.
He didn’t shift, nor look away. She sustained his gaze, calm and steady.
With a fluid move, she sat, shifting until she was kneeling beside him, her spine straight, eyes never leaving his.
Her hands rose to the hem of her vest.
She pulled it over her head, then unhooked the waistband of her sleep shorts and pushed them down.
Every movement was deliberate, each second making his pulse pound louder in his throat.
Santi threw an arm over his face, the weight of the moment crashing into him with violent tenderness.
His breath broke as he shuddered into his palm, not from lust, but from the sheer ache ofrelief, of love so sharp it hurt to breathe.
Of the unbearable beauty of having her back, here, now, choosinghim.
When her hands touched him again, his chest, his ribs, his jaw, he lowered his hands and met her halfway.
He pulled her to him, then, with a grunt, turned her so she lay underneath him.
He knifed up, staring down at her, lips parting to utter a raw, rough, desperate rasp. ‘You are sofokkin’ beautiful. Soreal. Somine.’
‘Naam,’ she whispered.
It was all the impetus he needed. He stripped off his tee, then his utility pants and shorts, revealing his chest, his thighs, and rippling muscles.
His cock appeared, throbbing and seeping, bobbing and thick, and she moaned, staring at it, widening her thighs, readying herself for him.
She slid a hand between her legs and stroked her slit, her other hand pulling on her nipple.
‘No cumming before me,’ he growled.
Her eyes flamed as she arched her spine.
With a growl, he bent over her, his weight braced on his forearms, his breath unsteady against her throat.
Her hand on her tit lowered, capturing his shaft, pumping it as she cried out.
He took over the stroking of her pussy, as his mouth meshed once more with hers.
Each harsh groan and every exhale was a promise that he would never again let her face a dark universe alone.
Her touch roamed over the ridges of his spine, tracing them.
He shuddered, pressing his forehead to hers.
‘Tell me this is real,’ he whispered.
‘It’s real,’ she breathed. ‘Nowfokkme.’
With a growl, he slid into her, pumping so deep she mewled, clutching the back of his nape, her thighs anchoring themselves, clasping his hips.
His thrusts shifted into a rhythmic devotion, not frantic but slow and penetrating, bottoming out deep inside her.
