I run my thumbs over his ribs and trace his spine with my fingers as his body rolls under my touch. A low moan pours across his tongue as he presses deeper, grip tightening in my hair, teeth catching my lip.
Moment by moment, the heat blazing across his skin seeps into me. My stomach flutters, then my core warms. Need brews slow and deep, rising with every subtle whimper from my omega.
My omega.His tongue sweeps across my lip.
My omega.He moans against my mouth.
My omega.His hands tangle in my hair, pulling tight.
He presses against me again, grinding his hips, dragging his throbbing cock across my stomach.
My hands slide around his ass, kneading the muscles, earning a low groan.
God,he smells like… candied oranges licked from sticky fingers, like honey drizzled over fragrant flowers, like a pitcher plant designed specifically to capture me.
And all I want is to tumble in.
CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX
MYLO
Kissing Christine feelslike trying to swallow the ocean. The more I drink, the more I crave, and there’s always overwhelminglymore.
Heat crackles in my bones, radiating outward, slicking my skin with sweat. Still, I need her touch, her warmth, and anywhere other than pressed up against her feels arctic, sending me shivering violently.
Her hands nearly circle my waist, and I finally let myself notice how much larger than me she is, how my kneeling across her only barely puts my mouth at the level of hers, how there’s so much of her to get tangled up in, lost in.
She could crush me, toss me, pin me.
I wouldn’t be able to get away.
I don’t want to.
Grinding against her, I’m already dripping. It’s less pleasure and more a brief reprieve from the wild, urgent need rising within me. There are no words for what I want, only myfingers tightening in her hair, my tongue pressing deeper, the whimpering moans I can no longer hold back.
My hands slide down, pawing at the slick nylon between us, needing more of her skin. She raises nails that have become claws, hooking them under the collar of her rash guard and tearing through. The string bikini underneath meets the same fate, freeing her breasts to meet my palms.
I wait for her claws to roam further, to strip off my bottoms or hers, but they just trace gentle lines along my ribs.
Urgency gathers faster than pleasure can relieve it, and my moans turn needy and impatient.
Christine laughs against my mouth, and I whine—then gasp as she moves to nip at my jaw, breaking the kiss and forcing me to catch my breath.
“Such a needy little omega,” she teases.
An indignant whine rises in my throat.
“But what do you want?”
“I want—” I knowthatI want: my whole body burns with it, withneed. “I want—” But there are no words for this craving, for the tangle of instinct and impulse, primal urges I don’t yet understand. “I don’t know,” I whine, leaning heavily against her, still grinding desperately though it gives me no relief.
“Poor thing,” she croons against my ear.
I shudder, curling my nails into the skin of her shoulder.
“Do you need your alpha to take charge?”
