Chapter 4 #2
There’s my gorgeous, filthy little Omega, coming apart on my tongue in an airplane bathroom and her whole body trusting me to take her there.
I stay with her all the way through it, easing her down slowly, not rushing her out of it, not taking my mouth off her sweet pussy until the shaking starts to ebb and her breathing turns ragged.
Then I kiss the inside of her thigh once, because I can’t help myself, and keep both hands on her while she comes back to me.
When I straighten up, she’s flushed from her cheeks down to her collarbones, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, lips swollen and parted.
She looks nothing like the woman who sat beside me on the plane pretending she had this under control.
Softer now. Wrecked in the prettiest fucking way.
Open in a manner I know she doesn’t give away easily, and the fact that I’m the one getting it makes me fucking possessive of her.
“Come here,” I say, quieter now.
She slides off the counter and comes straight into my arms like it’s instinct. I catch her against me, one hand at the back of her neck, the other low on her spine, and hold her there for a second while she breathes into my throat and steadies herself with her palms on my chest.
I drag my hand up her back, her gorgeous breasts pressed against my chest. “How are you feeling?”
“Extremely okay.”
That gets a grin out of me, but when she pulls back and glances up at me, the grin fades.
Because there it is again, that look in her eyes like she’s stopped playing defense and decided to let me see what I’m doing to her.
I want more of that than I should.
Her hands drop to my belt. I let her work at it, watching her face while she fumbles a little in her impatience, and when she glances up and catches me looking, she doesn’t shy away.
“I want you,” she says, direct as a blade. “Right now.”
Fuck.
My cock throbs hard enough to hurt.
“That makes two of us,” I admit, and then I’m kissing her again because I need her mouth busy if mine’s going to stay under control.
She makes this hungry little sound into the kiss that goes straight through me. No hesitation in it, just desire.
Her hand gets around my cock the second I’m free, and I suck in a hard breath through my nose. That gets her attention.
“Good,” she murmurs, stroking me once, slow and firm. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”
My head drops to her shoulder for half a second because Jesus Christ. “Adelaide,” I say, wrecked and warning all at once.
“Yes?” she answers, all false innocence.
I strengthen my grip on her hips. “You keep that up and I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget every smart thing you’ve said to me today.”
Her hand tightens just slightly over my cock, and I hiss deeper.
Instead of backing off, she strokes me again, slow enough to be deliberate, and says, “That doesn’t sound like much of a threat.”
Something dark loosens in my chest. I get my hands under her thighs and lift her straight back onto the counter. She lets out a breathy sound, half laugh, half gasp, and spreads for me without being told, legs opening around my hips as if she already knows exactly where this is going.
“Mouthy one second, opening up for me the next.”
Her eyes flash. “Maybe I know what I want.”
“Yeah?” I line myself up and drag the tip through her lips slowly, watching her face as I do it. “Then say it like you mean it.”
Her mouth parts on a shaky inhale, her hands locking on my shoulders. “You,” she says.
I push in an inch and stop.
She releases this broken little sound, and her head tilts back.
“You what?”
“You.” More breathless now. “Ace.”
I grip her jaw lightly, bring her face back to me. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
Her eyes are dark, pupils swallowing the green. “I need you inside me.”
That nearly snaps the last thread.
I push in slowly, because I want to feel every second of it, to watch it happen, to see exactly what my body does to hers. She takes me with this gorgeous, shaky exhale that breaks halfway through, fingers digging further into my shoulders, mouth falling open when I bottom out.
“Oh,” she says softly.
I hold still for one brutal second, trying not to lose my mind at the feel of her wrapped around me. Hot, tight, wet enough for my whole body to tense with the effort to not start moving like an animal.
“Good?” I ask, because I need to hear it from her.
She gives me a look that’s half wrecked, half offended. “Don’t stop to ask.”
“Bossy.” So I lean in, mouth brushing hers, and say quietly, “Then hold on.” And I start moving.
Deep enough so that she feels every inch and knows I’m doing it on purpose, and to ensure she moans softly in my mouth and tightens herself around me.
I brace one hand beside her head, the other locked on her thigh, keeping her open while I drive into her again.
“There,” I murmur when she shudders. “That’s what you wanted?”
She nods too fast.
I catch her chin. “Words.”
“Yes,” she breathes. “Yes, fuck, like that.”
My laugh is rough and dark. “That’s what I thought.”
I pick up the pace just enough to make her lose the rhythm of her breathing. Her mouth opens on every thrust now, those pretty little sounds getting less controlled, less careful, until she’s just giving them to me. Letting me hear exactly what I’m pulling out of her.
“You feel fucking incredible,” I tell her, because I’m past filtering anything. “Been thinking about this since that first look you gave me in the lounge, like you wanted to be good and knew damn well you weren’t going to manage it.”
Her eyes flare at that.
“You think you know so much,” she says, but it comes out shaky because I reach something that has her whole body jumping.
“I know enough.” I thrust into her harder once, and her nails bite into my shoulders. “Know you like to run that mouth right up until I put my hands on you.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah?” I drag my mouth along her jaw, then her throat, giving her nowhere to hide from any of it. “Know you like this too. Spread open on a counter, taking me like you’ve been waiting all damn day.”
She moans, low and helpless this time, and that sound goes straight to the darkest part of me.
I pull back just enough to stare at her. Flushed, choker still snug at her throat, tits bouncing lightly with every thrust, lips swollen and wet from my mouth.
Mine.
The thought hits hard enough again that I almost say it.
Instead, I drive into her again and again, faster. I bend and kiss her hard, filthy and deep, swallowing the sounds she can’t hold back now. All while I fuck her against the counter with one hand under her thigh and the other at her throat, not choking, just holding, thumb over her pulse.
I don’t stop. I keep going until I’m slamming into her, brutal fucking that nearly strips the air from my lungs. I hold still for one second, just breathing, because if I move too soon, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.
She’s looking at me with this open, dazed expression, as if she feels it too. Then I move.
She grabs my shoulder, and I keep fucking her, harder and faster, the counter knocking softly against the wall behind her, both of us gone from the first thrust.
“Fuck,” I growl, because there’s nothing else for it. She feels too good, too hot, too tight, too perfect, like every filthy thought I’ve had got packed into one impossible woman and handed to me in an airplane bathroom.
“You’re going to destroy me,” she breathes, and her voice breaks on the words. “That’s what’s happening here.”
I grin, pumping into her, never pausing.
She laughs and drags me closer by the back of the neck. I kiss her then, completely at odds with the pace, and the little surprised sound she makes into my mouth nearly finishes me.
So I go quicker.
She’s barely breathing now, forehead dropped to my shoulder. Her pussy is squeezing me, and I can tell she’s close. In moments, she comes apart, a muffled cry shaking out of her while she clenches around my cock in hard, pulsing waves, and it tears straight through whatever control I had left.
“Hell—”
It hits me fast. Too fast.
I pull out at the last second, one hand fumbling blindly for the stack of tissues beside the sink, catching and getting them around myself while she’s still shaking in my arms, still riding it out against me, thighs trembling and breath coming apart in little helpless bursts.
We don’t have the luxury of time for me to be knotting inside her right now.
The force of it leaves me swearing under my breath, forehead against her shoulder, one arm locked around her waist to keep her steady while she comes down, and I deal with the mess as quickly as I can.
For a second, all I can hear is both of us panting for air.
Her body is still trembling when I get rid of the tissues and wrap both arms around her properly. We just pause there in the tiny, warm space, pressed together, exhausted and breathing hard.
Then she starts laughing. Quiet and helpless and a little disbelieving, her face still tucked against me.
I laugh too, because Jesus Christ.
“That was absolutely insane,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say, still holding her. “Little bit.”
I gently push her hair back from her face, and she lets me, which feels significant coming from her.
She stares at me for a beat. “You’re nicer than you look,” she says.
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret is safe.” She pats my chest once, businesslike, and slides off the counter.
“Right. I need my shirt.” It’s on the floor, her bra near the paper towel dispenser.
One of her shoes has ended up by the door, and neither of us remembers that happening.
She finds her bra, puts it on, then picks up her shirt and dresses.
I’m pulling my own shirt back on, and we keep getting in each other’s way in the cramped space, her hip catching my elbow, my arm nudging her shoulder as she reaches up.
“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry.
“It’s fine,” I say and steal a kiss. Then I pull up my jeans, tucking myself away.
She tugs on her panties and leggings, then makes a face. “I’m going out first,” she explains.
I raise my hands in agreement.
She opens her mouth, and I’m certain she’s going to say something deep. “You were so much better than I expected.”
Then the door opens and she’s gone.
I lean against the wall and blow out a slow breath.
Who is that Omega? I finish up, straighten everything, and come out to find one of the flight attendants, who hands me a glass of champagne with the expression of someone who has seen everything and judged none of it. I take it and stroll back to my seat.
Adelaide has her head turned toward the window, and she looks over when I drop into the seat beside her, and there’s a beat where we are two people who know each other differently now, and then she shifts over until her shoulder is against my arm and closes her eyes.
I sit with that for a second, feeling close to her.
I ponder what I know about her: She’s sharp, funny, and fast. She reads people, so she has trust issues.
She’s traveling alone and not by choice, not entirely, and heading to a friend’s place.
The relief in her voice when she spoke about going to Hawaii was of someone who’s been outrunning something and is nearly at the place where they can stop.
Her scent alone would have been enough to capture my attention. The rest of her is just the universe making sure I got the message.
She’s asleep in no time, her breathing slow and heavy, her body warm against my arm. I don’t move, just sit there with her tucked close, the sun coming through the window hot against both of us.
She doesn’t stir. I lean in so my mouth is near her hair. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I murmur. “And you know it too.”
I can’t remember the last time I felt like this about anyone, let alone an Omega.
This settled. This locked in. Something deep in me has been awake since Seattle, since the lounge incident, the first hit of her scent, and it’s only gotten stronger.
She has to have felt it too. She played it cool, but there’s no way she didn’t sense our connection.
No way she doesn’t know what she is to me.
My scent match.
Mine, if I’m lucky.
I’ll deal with what that means later. When I’m not warm, half drunk on her Omega scent, and sitting here with a remarkable woman asleep on my arm. I close my eyes and let myself drift off to thoughts of her.
Later, something grabs my arm.
I come up fast and alert, hand moving before my eyes open, and find a flight attendant stepping back with wide eyes and both hands up.
“Sir, I’m so sorry to startle you. We’ve landed, and almost everyone has disembarked.”
The cabin is empty. Overhead lockers hanging open. No voices, no movement, just the flat silence of a plane with nobody left on it.
The seat beside me is empty. “The woman who was sitting here.” I’m already unclipping, already hauling my bag from the overhead bin in one move. “Where is she?”
“She was one of the first off,” the attendant says carefully. “She moved quite quickly when we landed.”
“How long ago did we land?”
“Twenty minutes, sir.”
“Fuck.” I sling the bag over my shoulder. “Sorry. Not at you.”
I move up the aisle at a pace that has the remaining crew stepping aside, then make my way down the jetway and into the terminal at something just short of a run.
Twenty minutes.
She was gone before I even woke up.