Page 77 of The Don’s Omega

He lifts his gaze to mine. “You sure you don’t mind?”

I laugh gruffly. “I don’t mind, Elio. Trust me on this.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip nervously, and my dick throbs.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he murmurs, brushing past me slowly.

His scent fills my nostrils as he passes, a mix of his sweet omega aroma and his arousal. I close the door behind him, feeling like the luckiest alpha on the planet. He crosses to the bed and my gaze drags down the length of him. Slim waist, the sweet swell of his ass, those long sinewy legs. My mouth waters. I want to get my hands on every inch of him.

He reaches the bed and he trails his fingers down the silky comforter. He looks at me over his shoulder, and the look can only be described as seductive. My dick gives another painful throb, and I move toward him. His breathing picks up, but he doesn’t retreat from me. He stands his ground as I approach.

When I’m a foot from him, I reach for him. “Did you miss me?” I whisper, slowly drawing him against me. His warm body seems to melt into mine and he rests his hands on my chest. His fingers lightly outline the tattoos there.

“You didn’t make a move on me,” he says softly. “Why?”

I lift one shoulder. “I was being respectful. We had a great day. I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

He bites his bottom lip. “I thought maybe you weren’t interested.”

I grab his hips and tug him against me, pressing my body into his so he can’t miss my erection. “You still think that?”

“No.”

I open my mouth to ask him if I can kiss him, but before I can get the words out, he kisses me first. His mouth is hot and greedy, and my brain short-circuits with lust as his taste and scent swamp me.

Chapter Ten

Elio

Marcello kisses me back like he’s been craving it.

I can feel the sheer force of just how much he wants me, and it’s exhilarating. There’s nothing tentative in him. His mouth responds to mine, hot and certain, and the relief of it floods through me.

I spent ten minutes on the other side of that door convinced he wasn’t interested because he didn’t try to sleep with me. But that’s not the case if his tongue in my mouth is anything to go by. His hand fists in my hair and tilts my head and takes the kiss deeper, and every bit of that insecurity burns off and is gone.

He tastes like the wine from dinner, dark and a little sweet. His lips are firm and his stubble rasps against my chin. When his tongue strokes against mine I make a needy sound that seems to excite him.

He’s so warm and alive. The heat of his skin soaks straight through me and I press closer, craving it. My palms flatten against the hard planes of his inked chest, feeling the muscle shift under my hands, and the heavy thud of his heart going as fast as mine. He’s hard against my hip, thick and insistent through the thin cotton, and the feel of it sends a hot pulse straight through me.

He walks me backward without breaking the kiss. One hand spreads wide and possessive on my lower back, steering me until the backs of my knees hit the edge of his bed. His mouth never leaves mine. He kisses me like he’s starving for it, like he’s been thinking about it all day. I melt under the urgency of his mouth, my whole body going loose and pliant and wanting.

He lowers me onto the mattress and follows me down, and his weight settling over me drives the air out of my lungs in a rush. He’s above me, blotting out the light, caging me in with his forearms planted on either side of my head. Heat pools low in my belly and I tilt my hips up against him, chasing the friction, and he groans into my neck.

His mouth moves slowly down my throat, his tongue tracing the line of it, his stubble dragging in a way that makes me shudder. When he reaches the bite mark he stops. He presses his lips to it, soft, and the bond flares so bright I groan. His mouth on it lights me up from the inside, a current running from my neck down my spine to curl hot between my legs.

He feels it. I know he feels it because he makes a low, satisfied rumble against my skin and does it again, lips and the barest edge of teeth, and I clutch at his shoulders and hold on while my whole body vibrates.

He works his way lower. His mouth on my collarbone, the center of my chest, a slow wet path along my sternum. He pauses at the fading bruise on my ribs and presses a kiss there so gentle it makes my eyes burn, and then he moves past it, lower, his lips trailing over my stomach. My muscles jump under his mouth. I’m breathing hard, my fingers buried in his thick dark hair, hanging on as he goes.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my briefs. He drags them down my legs and off, and the cool air hits my bare skin and then his hands are on my thighs, spreading them, and his mouth is on me. The heat of that draws an aching gasp out of me. His mouth is so wet, hot, and fucking perfect, my hips buck up before I can stop them. His forearm comes down across my hips and pins me to the bed, holding me still while he takes me deeper.

The loss of control should scare me but instead it excites me. I can’t move. Can’t escape the delicious suction. He’s holding me exactly where he wants me and there’s nothing for me to do but feel it, and take it, and revel in it. The pleasure climbs fast, too fast, gathering hot and tight at the base of my spine. My thighs are shaking as my free hand fists in the silk comforter. I’m right at the edge, so close, so fucking fast, and a sound of pure want escapes me.

He pulls off me and I groan with pure frustration. He huffs a quiet laugh against my inner thigh, his breath warm on my skin, and I feel that laugh travel all the way through me.

“It’s not funny,” I grumble.

He grins up at me, a lock of dark hair on his forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you there, tesoro. Just not too quickly.”