Page 37 of Omega's Forbidden Heat
She can’t mean that, can she? Even though it pleases him immensely, he knows it’s her thoughts lost to sleep. She can’t possibly mean that.
Chapter Thirteen
An owl hoots out in the darkness and it wakes him from his sleep with a start. His Alpha senses are alert to any strange noises and scents, any potential threats and dangers while he’s with an Omega, especially when he’s rutting an Omega in heat. He doesn’t want her stolen from him. He doesn’t want her hurt. He lies for some long seconds, the Omega pressed against his chest, still locked to him by his knot, and listens. Yes, it is only an owl. There’s no other noise, no other scent.
He relaxes back into the mattress and she rolls with him, stirring.
“What’s wrong?” she asks him. Her back is to him so he can’t see her face and he decides he’ll knot her differently next time so he can look at her properly.
“Just a noise woke me. Don’t worry.”
“A noise?” Her instincts make her body stiffen.
He shushes her with the low growl of his throat and her tension thaws. “It was only a bird, Omega. Nothing to worry about. And I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Hmmm,” she says, and her scents spirals with satisfaction. He smiles to himself.
“I’m taking good care of you, Omega.” He strokes her hair from her neck, his fingertips dancing over her gland. “Tell me how well I’m taking care of you.”
“You are, Alpha,” she says.
“And is it good for you, do you like it?” He grinds into her and pinches the skin below her gland.
“Yes!” The word is more of a squeal than anything else and he licks his lips and presses them against her gland. “Is it … is it good for you too, Alpha?” she says and he lifts his head.
He doesn’t answer straight away, closing his eyes and allowing himself to just feel how good it is to be buried inside her. “Yes,” he grunts. What else can he say? There aren’t words to describe it, and he doesn’t possess the way to make people understand his thoughts and his emotions, anyway. She’d never grasp the enormity of this for him. It’s like a medicine, a tonic — it’s as if something inside him is being mended, as if his brokenness is being healed.
“Was it lonely?” she says, taking his hand in hers and following the lines that run his palm.
“What?” Her voice brings him back to himself.
“Were you lonely in prison?”
“It was….” He grits his teeth and rolls on top of her, pushing her face down into the mattress, crushing her with the full force of his weight. Why is she asking him about that? Now? He wants to drive that place firmly from his mind. Pinning her hands above her head on the mattress, he pounds into her, every thrust pulling him away from his consciousness and away from the pain. There’s nothing she can do but take it like a good little Omega, opening her legs wider for him, lifting her backside, and allowing him to sink deeper and deeper inside her. Around his cock, her walls quiver and then they’re clenching at him as her body falls limp and she moans in satisfaction. But he’s not done, not nearly done, even as he releases into her, he remains hard thrusting into her and into her and into her until his arms and legs are burning with the force and sweat slides down his forehead and drips into his eyes.
He wishes he hadn’t locked her this way. He wants to bury his face between her sweet tits and suck those pink nipples of hers into his mouth. He wants to run his tongue over the softness of her stomach and sink his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder. Instead, he rises up onto his hands and admires the sweep of her spine, the way it dips at her waist and rises again with the glorious globes of her arse. Her skin is so smooth, so soft, so warm, and now it smells like him. All of her smells like him.
* * *
When the knot at the base of his cock deflates hours later, he rolls her away and lays the covers over her dozing form, then he tiptoes down to the kitchen to find her something to eat and drink. He needs to keep her energy up and to keep her hydrated. Her soaring temperature is a danger if he doesn’t ensure he looks after her properly. There’s little food in the house. Certainly, not the supplies he’d choose for his Omega in heat, but it will have to do. He finds a punnet of grapes in the fridge, as well as some cheese, and crackers and chocolate in the cupboard. He cuts up the cheese and the grapes and lays them out on the crackers. Then arranges it on a plate and takes it upstairs.
She rouses as he enters and starts those mewling noises he knows means she wants to be fucked, but he’s going to feed her first. Arranging the pillows against the headboard, he ignores the way she paws at his chest and drags her up until she’s sitting. She shakes her head when he holds up a cracker to her lips and tries to reach for him. He draws back and she pouts. He brushes his fingers against her protruding lip.
“Eat, Omega.” She starts to slide down the bed, parting her legs for him. He clasps her upper arm and tugs her back up. “I’m not fucking you again until you’ve eaten.”
“I’m not hungry,” she says, her voice gravelly from all the moaning and screaming.
“It doesn’t matter. I want you to eat. Don’t you want to make your Alpha happy?”
Her eyes widen. “Yes,” she says, opening her mouth like a well-trained pet.
He brings the cracker towards her mouth, then pauses. Her mouth is irresistible, soft and tender, her lips full and bowed. The tiny dent on her upper lip perfectly formed. He presses a kiss there now. Then one lower to her lips. Two chaste kisses. Closing his eyes, he kisses her over and over, deepening the kiss each time until her breath quickens and she opens her mouth to take him in. He pushes the plate away. The food can wait as he climbs between her legs and his mouth lowers to her breasts.
They are soft against his cheek and he watches as he slivers his tongue over her nipple and the velvety skin crinkles and the nub stiffens. She lets out a deep moan and her body shakes.
His eyes flick up to her face, she looks like she’s melting into the mattress. He’s heard that some girls orgasm when you play with their nipples, but he’d always dismissed that as bullshit. Now he wants to see if it’s true. He has a strong inkling he can make her come this way. Sucking the soft skin up into his mouth and kneading it with his tongue and the suck of his cheeks, he takes the other tit in his hand and rolls her nipple between his fingers. She responds as if he’s fucking her, bucking and moaning, her head flopping from side to side and her eyelids fluttering. He chuckles. Yeah, he can make her come this way.
“Poor little tit,” he says, lifting his head to her other breast, “does it feel neglected?”
