“Lucas,” she whispers, almost a warning. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown.
Does she want to keep going?
I tilt my head, brush her hair from her face. “We can stop, if you want.”
She shakes her head and bites her lip. “No. Please.”
That’s all I need. I let my palm slide up her leg, bunching the fabric until I’m at the soft heat of her inner thigh. Her breath hitches, and she presses her forehead to mine.
“You sure?” I ask.
She nods and then guides my hand higher, under the edge of her panties. She’s slick and hot, her honey scent overwhelming. I work two fingers in slow circles, feeling her tremble. She doesn’t try to hide her noises, not even when people push past us to get to the bar. It’s intoxicating, how much she trusts me to keep her safe here.
My omega.
Fuck, is this really happening? We’re giving this a chance?
Seems so.
I keep one hand on her hip to steady her, the other never stopping, building her up until she’s clutching my shoulders for balance and mewling in my ear. She buries her face in the crook of my neck and shudders as her body pulses in climax around my fingers. I kiss her, slow and deep, until she comes down.
She laughs, a sharp, embarrassed sound. “That’s definitely a first.”
I grin, then wipe my hand on my jeans. “It’s the ambiance. Very inspiring.”
She pulls me in for another kiss, sweeter this time. There’s a flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with the alcohol.
“Your turn.” She grabs my hand and weaves through the crowd to the back door.
The alley is cold and silent compared to the inside. Helena checks to make sure no one’s out there, then presses me against the brick wall. She kisses me again, then drops to her knees. Her hands are confident, moving with no hesitation as she undoesmy jeans and frees my cock. She glances up at me with parted lips and eyes shimmering dark in the alley’s wash of gold and blue. Her gaze pins me in place, demanding attention in a way that is nothing like the shy omega I met on the sand. I brace my hands against the bricks at my back, but even the rough stone feels soft compared to the heat of her mouth when she takes me in.
It’s not just that Helena is good at this—she’s fucking incredible, somehow both practiced and brand new, like every sound I make is a discovery she’s eager to collect. Her tongue flicks and swirls with deliberate curiosity, mapping every inch, every vulnerable nerve, until I have to squeeze my eyes shut or risk cummingembarrassinglyfast.
She holds me at the base, thumb gently tight just where I’m most sensitive, while her other hand wraps my hip to keep me from rocking forward. I try to keep quiet, but the whine that escapes me is louder than any of the music thumping from inside the bar. I’m thankful for the cover of night and noise, for the way her hair falls in a curtain, hiding us both.
But she doesn’t want to hide. She makes a satisfied hum around my cock. I bite my fist to keep from groaning out loud. I look down again. She’s watching me with blue eyes dilated and her cheeks flushed. My breath stills in proximity of her beauty. She pulls back to lick the tip of my cock, slow and purposeful, then takes me deeper, swallowing me so far, I can feel the back of her throat.
I see stars. I’m barely holding on. My hands drop from the bricks to her shoulders, then to her hair, threading through the dark, soft strands. With each bob of her head, my composure frays until I’m stammering her name like an apology.
“Helena—fuck, I’m?—”
She doesn’t stop. If anything, she doubles down, the rhythm of her mouth and hands pushing me right to the edge, then overit. I spill down her throat. Her lips stay snug around me, coaxing every last bit until I’m boneless and shaking, slouched against the cold bricks, knees actually jelly.
She wipes her lips with a thumb, stands, and grins up at me, almost smug. I expect her to break the moment with a joke, and she does, but not before she drags me down into a kiss. She’s not gentle about it. She wants me tasting myself on her tongue. There’s no shame in it—just a hungry, wild pride.
“Not bad for a girl who’s never been to a dive bar before,” she says, smug.
I’m still catching my breath, but I manage, “You’re hired.”
She laughs, grabs my hand, and we walk back through the kitchen to the front. The show’s over, the band packing up, but I don’t care. Helena’s fingers are laced with mine, and I can’t help but feel like we just got away with something huge.
“Want me to walk you home?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes, but not just yet. Let’s take the long way back.”
We slip into the night, taking winding roads back to her rental flat and pausing in more than a few dark shadows to continueenjoyingeach other.
CHAPTER 13
