“Touch me, Eli,” she begs, her hands moving to my chest. She fumbles with the buttons of my shirt, her fingers clumsy in her haste. “Please.”
Her scent is clawing at my throat now, shifting from sweet jasmine to something muskier and richer. It’s the scent of an Omega and it’s making my head spin.
I help her with the buttons, shedding my shirt and tossing it aside. Her hands are on me immediately, exploring the planes of my chest, her fingers brushing over my nipples.
I hiss in a breath, the sensation shooting straight down my spine. I reach for the hem of her sweater and peel it off her body.
She raises her arms to help me, and the fabric falls to the floor. She’s wearing a black bra, simple lace that cups her breasts perfectly.
The contrast against her pale skin is stunning.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, my eyes roaming over her.
I lean down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone, tasting the salt of her skin. My hand traces the band of her panties through the denim of her jeans. I can feel the heat radiating from her.
“Amber,” I murmur against her skin. “I’m going to make you feel good. But you have to promise me you want this. Truly want this.”
“I want this,” she says, her voice firm. She undoes the button of her jeans with shaky fingers, pushing them down her hips. “I want this.”
I kick her shoes aside, then help her step out of the denim. When I look back up, I have to stop and stare.
She’s standing in my kitchen in nothing but a black bra and a pair of leopard print cotton panties with a little bow on the front. They’re unexpected, playful, and incredibly sexy.
“So pretty,” I murmur, my cock straining against the zipper of my pants. She is driving me wild.
I rest my hands on her hips, guiding her backward until her back hits the cool wall of the walk-in cooler. She gasps at the temperature change, but I’m there to warm her up.
I drop to my knees in front of her, looking up at her flushed face. “Trust me,” I say.
She nods, her eyes almost glazed over with desire as she looks down at me.
I lean forward and press a kiss to the fabric of her panties, right over her core. She gasps, her hands tangling in my hair.
Her scent is intoxicating here—rich, musky, and utterly feminine. It’s making me so hard it hurts.
“I want to hear you moan,” I tell her, looking up at her from under my lashes. “I want to know how you sound when I’m inside you.”
I hook my finger into the waistband of the leopard print cotton and trace the seam of her folds. Her hips buck.
“Wait,” she moans, her thighs trembling. “I didn’t plan this. I don’t have… I’m not…”
“I know,” I reassure her, kissing her hip bone. “It doesn’t matter.”
I peel the panties down her legs, revealing her to me. She’s unshaved, a dark thatch of curls that glistens with her arousal. I smirk, looking up at her.
“I don’t care,” I tell her honestly. “I just want to taste you.”
She nods, her lips parted, her chest heaving.
I don’t make her wait any longer. I fuse my mouth to her pussy, licking a broad stripe from her entrance to her clit. She cries out, her fingers tightening in my hair, holding me to her as I begin to devour her.
She tastes like heaven and sin, a complex flavor that I know I will become addicted to instantly. I don’t let up, using the flat of my tongue to lap at her clit before sealing my lips around the tight bundle of nerves and sucking hard.
Her reaction is instantaneous. Her hips jerk off the wall, a choked sob tearing from her throat as her fingers knot in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting.
I love it. I love the urgency, the way she abandons all control. I slide one hand up her thigh, holding her open for me, while the other grips her hip to keep her pinned against the cooler.
She’s so wet, soaking my chin, her musk filling my nostrils and making my head swim. I work her with a relentless rhythm, flicking my tongue fast, then slow, then circling, listening intently to the sounds she makes to figure out exactly what drives her wild.
