That seems to have reminded Mylo what’s so close to his face, and he pulls my robe aside so he can palm my breast. He gives my nipple a light pinch, smiling at the hitch in my breath.
I raise a brow and tighten my inner muscles again. Pleasure rolls through him, spine arching into me as he moans and shudders against my skin.
He makes a point of returning his attention to the movie and wisely decides to not pinch me again.
The movie rolls on, and I offer a running commentary: reminiscing about the birds that tried to move into the sound studio, thinking craft services was their personal buffet; complaining about the shot where we did nearly fifty takes yet still used the first one; making a mental note that I should send a text to my co-star, ask how his kids are doing.
Halfway through the movie, after I laugh at one of my own jokes, Mylo lifts his head and casts a suspicious look at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I thought you said youhatewatching your own movies?”
“Hm? Oh, I lied.”
His eyes narrow. “And you knew I wouldn’t be able to resist…”
“Yep.”
His mouth drops open with indignant shock. “You sly bitch?—”
He reaches for my nipple again, but before he can squeeze, I clench around him.
“Oh, fuck…” His breath shudders, turning needy, and that cute little cock throbs within me.
I squeeze again, and he can’t help but thrust, now on the precipice of an impending climax that’s caught him by surprise. He clings tightly, fingers digging into my breasts, hips rocking as he pulls against the lock.
“Tee,” he gasps, “it feels so fucking good…”
I graze my nails down his back. “That’s right, sweet omega. Let it all out for me.”
His moan is low and long as he tips over the first of many edges to come.
At least the lock will keep the couch clean. For now.
His skin is feverish as he settles against me again, breath still trembling.
I snuggle further into the comforter and pillows he’d carefully arranged, loving how they carry our scent.
On the screen, a past version of myself delivers another sly, under-stated joke, and Mylo laughs against me.
I lean down and kiss his forehead. “I meant what I said before, Mylo. You made a very good nest. I’ll make sure you have anything and everything you want for another at my—ourhouse.”
This time, he accepts the compliment, snuggling deeper into me. “Oh, right… no more shitty apartment…”
“No more shitty apartment.”
“You have some obnoxiously fancy mansion in Beverly Hills, don’t you?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Don’t tell me—you’re neighbors with Pitt Bradley?”
“Mary Stuart, actually. I’ve borrowed sugar from her.”
He laughs against my chest again. “Of course you have.”
“And now you’ll be neighbors with her too. Oh, the way I’m going to parade you around… show you off…my omega.”
