Page 12 of Mistletoe Omega

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Desire. Want. Possession. Nothing new to an alpha.

But—it never hit like this before. It had never wrenched purrs and rumbles from me.

Never had me envisioning a life with some club omega after the doors closed and the sun came up.

Fuck.

Ithwackedher other breast without looking, heightened senses perfectly capable of navigating this world blind as a bat.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case.

Unfortunately, I bloody welllovedthe sound of her cry, the wet inhale of her gasp and the whiny mewl that followed. Eyes open again, devouring every inch of her, I darted around Hollis at vampiric speed. One blink and I was behind her, cracking the flogger across her trembling thighs, taken with the rise of blood in her skin, the sounds she made a symphony I needed recorded—now.

“Relax your muscles like a good girl,” I remarked when she clenched her ass, the flogger’s bite crueler on tension. “It’ll feel better if yourelax.”

She huffed something, maybe a laugh, maybe a scoff—intriguing all the same, given the way Kane straightened and Laszlo pushed out of his chair. Our bond in navy blue, the golden Graves pack affiliate ring on his thumb, same as the rest of us—he bolted up, then just stood there, watching, jaw clenched, pants tented as I peppered Hollis’s thighs and ass with more precisethwacks, the redness fleeting, her cries and whines hooking into my very essence, refusing to let loose.

Given the full capacity of vampiric physical strength, matched only by fae,maybea shifter on a good day, sometimes by our long-lost gargoyle brethren, what I gave Hollis now wasnothing. Practically a kiss, chaste and sweet, all these hits.

“Legs wider,” I ordered, a rasp coloring the demand. “Better balance. Help you relax.”

But when she did as she was told, it only heightened the heady scent of her slick, her inner thighs coated in it, the thick, translucent evidence of her desire smeared almost down to her knees now. It seemed cruel to make her stand in it, to drip and dribble with no sign of relief. The longer I stared at it, my next strike actuallymissingher by a full two inches, the harder I groaned, and I ended up hurling the flogger aside, patience thinner than usual, starving for ataste.

“On your back, Hollis.”

“H-Holly,” she stammered, deliciously pink all over, her red-tipped nails gritting into her palms in those adorable fists. If she thought reminding me of the nickname she went by would do a damn thing, this little omega was sorely mistaken. With a flash of fang, I hooked her around her nipped waist and yanked her back into me, caging her against my body, my mouth at her ear.

“I’ll call you whatever I want, little one,” I whispered, sweeping my tongue along the shell, taken with the way her skin prickled all the way down to her toes. “You can correct me over and over again, be a petulant brat, but, oh,darling, I have a taste forHollisnow, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I then kicked her legs out from under her, and in another burst of vampiric speed, had her scooped into my arms—where she fit a little too perfectly—and down on the rug while she squealed and flailed, her heartbeat roaring for me.

How I longed to make itdance.

Instead, I left her flat on her back, kneeling by her side, and pulled the nipple clamps from my jacket pocket. As Kane stood, black candle in hand, I went for her left breast, smoothing it properly so the clamp would sit just right, capturing what it ought to and leaving the rest alone.

“A little pinch, darling,” I purred. “Nothing you can’t handle.”

While clamped at their gentlest setting, our little omega still whined and writhed, her hands fisted into the rug below. Once I had the right clamped too, I trailed my finger along the delicate gold chain connecting them, transfixed on the way her breasts shuddered and jiggled through every ragged breath.

“Oh, poorthing,” I teased, light and playful, mindful of her limits on verbal degradation. Whore, cunt, slut, bitch—hardly terms in my vocabulary, and I only bothered with them if the submissive specifically requested degradation and humiliation. “You can take a gentle pinch, can’t you? Think of it as butterfly kisses.”

Hollis whimpered, her eyes shut as she nodded, then jumped when I gave the sweetest, softest tug at the chain that I hadeverdone, just enough to gently pluck at her nipples. She shot up, eyes wide with panic now, fire catching in those moody greens. Before I could guide her back to the floor, about to remind her of the two for flinching rule, Kane’s loafer found her shoulder, where he pushed down—gently as well, mind you, by Kane standards—and corrected her position.

There she stayed, trembling, slick staining our rug, the air thick withherand nothing else. No cigarette smoke from Kane. No vintage blood from Laszlo’s collection. None of our scents, our auras—sheclaimed it all for herself, her perfume ravenous and bold and fuckingperfect.

Another tremor ran down my fingers as I sat back and wrenched my jacket off for freer movement. In that time, I mapped her body, devouring all the details I longed to ink on canvas.

Maybe next time.

Maybe next time she could just sit while I painted her—

My frustrated snarl had her tensing, and while Kane stood with a foot on either side of her splayed black mane, I prowled down her body, licking and nipping and scent-marking where I saw fit. Only when I reached her red-tipped toes, taste buds on fire, did I straighten up and part her thighs, kneeling before her like a sycophant at the altar.

Goodness.

What a feast.

Vampires could only survive on blood. We all had our preferences in type and texture and temperature, but some stubborn bastards tried to choke down regular food as if they weren’t afflicted with thisdiseaselike all the rest of us.


Tags: Rhea Watson Paranormal