Page 45 of Omega's Forbidden Heat
“No, Jack. We didn’t talk about it. And we both know it was more than that.”
“Don’t do this, Amy,” he whispers, as if all the fight is draining from him and she sees how his nostrils flare and the fingers of his hand twitch. “I’m no good for you.”
“I know you feel this too. I know you do.” She can see him relenting, his will flinching.
He can’t look at her, his eyes hovering about the ground. “I had your brother here, vying to beat the shit out of me. And what do you think your dad — and your mum — will say when they get back?” His voice has turned to pleading. “I’m not right for you, Amy. All that shit I just did to you.” He runs his fingers through the mess of his hair. “I’m broken.”
His eyes are the colour of water. His face like ice, lines skating across the surface, cracking the facade.
She shivers against the cold and reaches for him, cradling his head in her hands. “You’re not broken.” She strokes her thumbs over his cheeks and his eyes flick up to hers, and for the first time she sees it, the depth of the pain buried deep inside him. He works so hard to hide it behind this blank hard wall, this wall she’s been trying to break through, and now she sees the merest, fleeting glimmer of it, diluting the brightness of his irises. “You’re not broken,” she says, “you’re sad. You just lost your mum.”
His eyes sink to the ground and his body shudders, fighting the emotion her words have stirred.
“I miss her.”
“I know.” She draws him into her arms, and he buries his head in her chest, as she kisses the crown of his head and gently combs her fingers through his hair. And he lets her, lets her hold him and soothe him.
“No one ever asks me what I want,” she whispers. “Including you, Jack. Isn’t what I want important in all this? Don’t I get a say?”
He lifts his head. His eyes are dry.
“What do you want, Amy?” he asks.
She swallows, holding his deep gaze. “You.” And then she kisses him, bending down and pressing her mouth against his, closing her eyes and savouring the taste of him. She tries, tries so very hard, to kiss away his pain, to drive it away with the love of her mouth, the soft touch of her lips, the longing of her caress, the needy stroke of her tongue. And he kisses her back with so much emotion she can barely stand. It’s different, so different from before. Then it was all lust, all hunger and want and passion. A need to consume her. Now his kiss is laced with everything in his heart and all she wants is to kiss it away.
Then almost as suddenly it fades and his arousal spikes. The boy swamped by the Alpha, and the smell of it makes that point in her gut spin with excitement. She whimpers into his mouth, and his hands grip around her waist, fingers digging into her flesh as his kiss hardens until he’s working his jaw against her, kissing her with the whole of his mouth. He drags her inside, kicking the door shut behind them and crashing her up against the wall. She twines her legs around his waist as he hitches her up and she bites down on his fat bottom lip.
He snaps back to look at her.
“There’s no use fighting this,” she says, clasping his shoulders and grinding against him.
“I’m fucked. Your brother is going to kill me.”
“This is none of my brother’s business.”
He pushes her against the wall. “If you keep turning up like this, you’re going to keep getting fucked yourself, little Omega.”
“Good. All I want is for you to fuck me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
“Me neither,” he mutters into her neck, scrabbling up her top so he can squeeze her tits.
She leans her head back against the cold wall, closing her eyes as he bends to capture her nipple between his teeth.
“Your skin is like silk,” he murmurs, tracing his tongue around and around the creasing skin of her nipple before sucking her tit into his mouth. “Hmmmm,” he groans with his mouth full.
Then he shoves up her skirt and rips at her tights, and she inhales, waiting, getting wetter and wetter. And then he’s there at her entrance, plunging his way inside, and she hisses through her teeth at the stretch and the feeling of him filling her up completely.
When he fucks her, she loses any care, any self-awareness or consciousness. She moans loudly into his ear, unable to keep the noise from her mouth. She doesn’t give a shit how vocal she is. She wants him to know how much she loves this, how good he makes her feel.
He thrusts into her, banging against the wall. Fucking her with the whole of his weight, her body crushed between the powerful Alpha and the plaster wall. And every time he hammers back into her is better, driving away all of her own hurt that’s been swimming around inside her. The little Omega bereft that the Alpha had abandoned her, now rejoicing at the fact he’s back where he belongs. Buried deep inside her cunt.
He stumbles with her into the lounge, dropping them both onto the sofa and she tussles with him for control, rolling him onto his back and straddling his lap. She hovers above him, with her skirt hitched up, catching his gaze. His eyes shine eagerly as they flick between her face and his cock waiting for her. It’s beautiful, long and thick and curved in a way she’s learnt hits her exactly where she needs him. And his skin here is soft as velvet, the head engorged and swollen and wanting her attention. She grips him round the base, holding him in place, while she lowers herself onto him. Slowly, stars crashing against her eyelids as he slides into place.
And then she rides, and she’s in control, one moment grinding into him in wide circles, the next bouncing up and down on his cock. He lies back and lets her dictate the pace and the depth, his hands firm on her hips, his eyes swimming all over her face and her body, then back to her face.
She likes having him at her mercy, even if she knows he could flip her onto her back and pound her into the carpeted floor at any moment. She likes that he’s letting her pleasure him, that she can give him something in return after the days he worked for her during her heat. She likes the way his brow creases and his irises and pupils roll away leaving only the whites of his eyes, the rough grunts he makes and how he can’t hold back from lifting his hips to meet hers every time she slams back down onto him.
His hands creep slowly up her body, tracing over her hipbones and the dip of her belly button, stroking each rib and the rise of her breasts. He does it as if he’s making a mental note of her, as if she’s unreal and he needs to touch her to confirm she’s here with him, riding him like this.
