Chapter 8 Cameo #2
Though it didn’t seem that was what he really wanted, not with his back arching to press his plump ass against the ridge of my stiff cock in a bid for friction that I answered with a hard grind against him.
“No can do, Gattino,” I sing-songed, delighted in this outcome. “I’ve come to claim my prize, and I intend on doing so. Viciously.”
“Well, now I’m busy,” Joon huffed, struggling against my hold.
I collected his wrists in my free hand, removing the leverage he attempted to use to break free, my forehead resting against the mirror.
“Busy?’
“I was left to my own devices for too long,” he said, like it was obvious, continuing to struggle.
I’d call it pointless, save for the fact that with every huff of breath and wriggled attempt to free himself, his ass met my cock, teasing me through my pants.
I refused to let go, adjusting my grip on his neck to circle my long, tattooed fingers around his throat.
The dark bones shaded against my flesh, a mirror of the inside brought to the surface, nearly made my skin glow in contrast as they flexed in warning that I could and would cut off the omega’s airflow.
Joon’s eyes flashed with excitement, my view of them distorted in the foggy glass.
“Find someone else to play with?” I asked, my voice coming out rough with irritation. Even the concept was unacceptable.
There was no one else. There would be no one else.
Only me, and my pack, his alphas.
Joon’s Alphas.
“I—”
“I won,” I snarled, hand leaving his throat to find his shoulder, flipping him around to face me with the back of his head meeting the mirror with a hard crack. “You’re my toy, my prize.”
“You don’t own me,” Joon said defiantly, meeting my gaze through the slits cut into my mask before glancing over my shoulder.
I towered over him, anger pulsing through my veins like poison.
It wasn’t his words that bothered me, or even his snotty fucking tone—though both would come with consequences. It was the way his focus was still on whoever he was looking for before I’d come across him, made obvious by his fractured attention.
Infuriating.
I gripped his chin, forcing his eyes up to me where they should be.
The barest tremble of his body under my touch made me swell with pride.
It didn’t matter if it was fear alone that motivated him; I would relish in the delicate agony of being his monster—but when a thick flood of sticky, sugary apples invaded my senses, I realized that it wasn’t fear that had my omega quivering in my grasp, but desire.
It took every fibre of my outstanding self-control to stop myself from digging my teeth into him there and then.
But Joon didn’t want a pack, didn’t want me—so he said—and I was willing, for a time, to honor those wishes.
At least until I changed his mind.
Still, his words troubled me.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I murmured, leaning in close until my masked face was all that was reflected in Joon’s glassy, needy eyes. “You belong to me as surely as the knife in my pocket. A tool I will do whatever I desire with, whenever I feel the need.”
Joon gasped, struggling against me, his throat pressing against my hand until he coughed. Breaths coming quick and shallow.
“I own every inch of you, the very breath in your lungs.” To illustrate my point, I flexed my fingers, making him splutter, his face going red as the seconds ticked by without critical oxygen. “You’re my omega.”
My words sounded too close to a confession, reverent in a way that was unsettling even to my own ears, but they felt true nonetheless.
I was tired of circling Joon from the sidelines.
It was time that he admitted what I already knew, that he needed me.
“That’s not true,” he wheezed once I loosened my grip, trying to sound assertive. Unfortunately, the severe lack of surety in his voice undercut his message.
“Doesn’t sound untrue—” I started, breaking off into a snarl as Joon’s booted foot stomped onto my toes.
I only loosened my grip for a second in surprise, but it was long enough for Joon to wiggle out of my weakened grasp. The omega took off in a sprint, trying desperately to put as much space between us as possible, but I was done playing games.
Joon was mine, and it was time that he started fucking acting like it.
He made it a couple of turns before he collided, hard, with the mirrored wall.
My long legs made his misstep fatal, hand forgoing the obvious choice of snatching at the omega’s hair—the long pink tendrils of the wig he wore wouldn’t hold up to a grab like that—and instead catching his shoulder, shoving him hard onto the ground as I bared down on him.
Joon flew forward, catching himself on his hands before his face could make contact with the dirty floor, hissing at the scrape of his knees.
I stood over him, looking down at his crumpled body as he turned his head to look up at me angrily. But his eyes weren’t what drew my attention, the curve of his ass was visible over the hem of his rucked-up skirt a tempting morsel that I wanted to claim.
“Light check,” I grunted, pushing the sleeves of my hooded sweatshirt up to my elbows, revealing a heavy scrawl of black ink against pale flesh.
The defiant glint in his eyes warned that Joon considered disobeying my request.
An urge that I craved to bend until he shattered completely, leaving nothing but a needy, begging mess of an omega in its wake. A broken doll that even Indi couldn’t restore to its former glory.
“Are you fucking deaf?” I snarled. My foot made contact with Joon’s head, pressing it towards the floor with a growl that had a bark lingering just on the edges of my repeated demand. “Light check.”
“Green,” he gasped clearly, barely concealing the breathy moan in his voice.
“Good boy,” I praised, the softness gone as quickly as it came.
I dragged my boot from his cheek along his shoulder and down his spine. Lifting my foot away, I used the top of my shoe to rub between the omega’s legs, nudging at his cock through skimpy underwear with my rough laces.
Joon’s thighs tensed with the effort not to collapse, and though from this angle I couldn’t see it, the thigh of his back told me that his cock was twitching at the contact, his jaw clamped tightly shut as muscles clenched and unclenched needily.
I drew away, using the same booted foot to kick his thighs further apart.
“Roll over.”
The omega tried and failed to fight me, holding steady for a few moments before giving way, his back meeting the cold floor with a soft huff.
“Bossy,” he whispered breathlessly.
It wasn’t lost on me that he kept his legs splayed open, as though he was begging for another whisper of stimulation.
“Perhaps so,” I conceded, eyes trailing his slender frame.
Joon’s tanned legs went on for miles, longer than his torso until they met at the apex of his thighs. I used my foot to flip his skirt up, the fabric resting against his abdomen and revealing a pair of pink lace panties straining to contain his rigid, leaking cock.
I licked my lips at the sight of the dark, wet patch near where the head of his cock rested, precum glistening through the tiny scrap of fabric like a beacon for just how deeply he enjoyed being thrown around.
Fuck, he was gorgeous. The fact was undeniable as I bore down on him, mind already jumping ahead to watching his mascara run as I fucked him into oblivion.
But not yet.
“Take it out,” I demanded.
“And if I don’t?” Joon replied, defiance licking through every syllable.
“You and that fucking mouth,” I mumbled, reaching a hand into my back pocket to pull out the small switchblade Indi bought me for my birthday last year.
The black handle’s grey smoke pattern shone in the dim light like mist.
I unfolded it with a snick, the metallic sheen of the blade catching on the flashing lights from above as I folded into a squat, hovering just above Joon where I was positioned between his thighs.
“Either take them off, or I’ll remove them for you.”
He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took in the blade. “Do it then.” It came out as almost a whisper. A look falling somewhere between keen interest and terror etched into his face.
I let my gaze drift over his body, taking in the tremble of his lips, his exposed collar bone and heaving chest before returning my attention to his cock, pressing the cold, blunt flat of the blade against his straining erection.
Joon hissed, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d heard him make a whimpering moan.
I rubbed him slowly with the knife, delighting in the obvious effort it took the omega not to move, not to breathe for fear that I would accidentally nick his most private of places.
“Cameo…” Joon begged, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh my fucking god…”
I let my blade trail to his inner thigh, circling the tip against his skin—careful not to cut, only to stimulate. I let the cool metal glide along his skin before finding its way under the thin strap of the underwear, a hand on his lower belly kept Joon still as I teased.
Joon’s breathing had turned into ragged intakes of breath, his scent filling the enclosed space as thick as syrup, making my head spin.
I was teetering dangerously on the edge of rut, Joon’s obvious enjoyment in every slight movement gnawing at my rapidly dwindling sovereignty over my emotions.
With the flick of my wrist, the sharp blade sliced through the fabric like butter.
An unintentional moan clawed from Joon’s throat, drawing a smirk to my lips as I slid the knife under the fabric to press against his bare cock, mirroring the same treatment as before.
I was rewarded with a breathy whine, the omega’s thighs shaking as another bead of precum seeped through his panties desperately.