Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
SANTIAGO
I’ve had to shut out the realization of her being my Omega, mute the call my brain keeps repeating, or I’d have savaged her slender throat as soon as I tasted her.
That isn’t to say the brutal realization she’s mine isn’t important; it’s life-changing. But spending as much time with her, in this exact moment, is more important than making declarations.
Right now, life is beautifully simple—I’m alone with the woman of my dreams, and we’re free to explore each other without any other influence. I need and want her alone with me, for as long as possible. I’d make time stop if I could.
The time we’ve spent has been incredible. She’s amazing.
Everything about her is fire. Her scent is like waving a cape at a bull; it has me barely holding on. My hands are permanently affixed to her body, because that’s the way life should be. The way her breathing catches when she’s lost in pleasure will be a sound I hear until the day I die.
Our connection is basic and predatory, and I’ve taken the chance to track her constantly. I especially like the way she gets a flush of color over her skin when she comes. Her scent thickens and warms too.
My watching isn’t a one-sided affair, and she’s stared me down with a blazing confidence that renders me quiet, in complete awe. She doesn’t shy away from me, and I’ve seen her take as good as she gives.
Honestly, we’ve done nothing but fuck, make love, and have incredible sex since the second we walked through the door.
I wish I had the ability to stop time because if this was my life, I’d die fulfilled and happy. But we’re minutes from leaving now.
She’s dressed impeccably, the dark pants she has on hugging her long legs. My fingers itch from the memory of those legs wrapped around me, over my shoulders, slung across my lap in the aftermath.
My hands have a hard time not being on her, my fingers trailing up her leg while my feet guide hers wider.
“Bend over.”
“We need to go,” she answers with an encouraging smile and an enticing sway of her hips.
I push her forward, more insistently than only a second ago. Her eyes flick to the clock in the kitchen before she twists around to look up at me towering over her, my fist already locked around my hard length.
“One last thing, and then we can leave,” I insist as I turn her and guide her down to sitting on the edge of the bed.
All day, I’ve been in a constant state of perpetual arousal. I only need her scent, and I’m hard as fucking stone, ready to go again. And god, her eyes are like spell weavers, full of magic and mystery. She looks at me, and I’m falling.
I don’t know anything about her—not her name, when she was born, her connection to Victor, absolutely nothing.
It all seems so fucking irrelevant now. Exploring her was fundamental to my survival, and I want to make it so that she needs me as much as I need her. They’re incredibly selfish thoughts, but I own them with pride.
She’s mine. I knew that the moment I touched her, probably even before that, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt when I tasted her slicked-up cunt.
I won’t risk spooking her by pounding my chest, proclaiming the obvious. I’ll wait until we’re seated together on the long flight before I start to address how I make her mine. I’ll answer every one of her concerns or worries about how I feel about her, but first I need her one last time.
There’s no hesitation or question in her movements. She just comes when I crowd around her closer. I’m certain she knows I’d do the same, heel like a bonded dog, because I have done whatever she wanted. Repeatedly.
She reads me better than anyone else I’ve ever met. It’s like we share the same thoughts. Her fingers move deftly over the dainty buttons on her white shirt until they're undone. Without being asked, she opens her shirt, her skin so fucking perfect, then leans back on the bed.
“I’m going to fill your throat and paint your skin some more,” I promise, crawling over her.
She hums encouragingly before parting those lips and giving me her tongue.
Burying my hands in her hair, I fill her mouth and watch her eyes roll closed as her tongue laps at the gathering pre-come.
“Jesus, bebe, this mouth of yours is criminal,” I murmur, starting to move my hips, chasing the pleasure of her touch.
Her lips pull as they stretch around my cock, and I inch further down her throat.
When she gags, I go to pull out, but her fingers dig into my ass, and I have no option but to give her exactly what she wants; it’s how I’m built.
She makes a low whine when I stop fighting and let her choke on my dick.
“I love your lips wrapped around my cock,” I praise, brushing her hair off her face, burying them in and holding her still. Her nose is pressed up against my knot, her face is flushed pink, and her eyes implore, nearly begging me not to move.
I’m obsessed. I need this last moment.
The visual of her sucking my dick, and the knowledge my come is on her skin, is going to be a core memory.
And while every cell in my body is primed and nearly feral with the intention of scarring her throat for the world to see, I’m not about to rush claiming her.
I treasure her too much. I want to, though.
Boy, do I fucking want to. Which is why I’m back to fucking her face nice and slowly, hoping to distract myself so we can talk on the plane.
It’s kind of working, but there’s a lot of me still thinking the best course of action right now is to throw her over my shoulder and kidnap her.
She splinters my thoughts, redirects my plans, but also seals her fate when she digs her claws into my hips and takes me right down her throat. God, she is fucking distracting.
I’m struck again by how insanely perfect she is.
Her pretty cheeks hollow, and I lose my sense of time and space when she gives me the best blow job of my life.
“Don’t swallow, bebe. Hold my come in that dirty mouth of yours. I want it back,” I insist as I hold her still, so I can feel her throat working around the tip of my cock, massaging my pleasure until my balls draw up, and I’m seeing a fucking galaxy of stars.
Her eyes glitter in her own desire and enjoyment, and I can smell how turned on she is.
I move my hands into her hair, giving in to her pleas for even more.
Again. She ruins all my self-control, constantly pushing me to wonder if I’m strong enough to be her Alpha.
I’ll do anything to become exactly who she needs, though.
“Yes,” I groan in between praising her.
When she looks at me through her eyelashes, the vibrant color of her eyes reflecting the very emotions I’m trying not to confess, I come so fucking hard and fill her mouth so full of my orgasm that her cheeks puff out.
“Honestly, you are so fucking beautiful. Can I please touch this very pretty pussy again?” I ask, somehow swallowing the bark I was going to give about it being my pussy.
Her eyes roll backward, and she nods frantically.
I slip my fingers inside her panties before a second has passed, circling her slippery little clit with a gentle touch while I dip down to kiss her.
Using my tongue and sucking gently, I take my come from her mouth.
I get to watch the fireworks of her pleasure flash in her eyes and listen again to the way her breathing hitches when she comes.
Lifting her hand from my ass while she’s still trying to right herself, I hold her long fingers in mine and wait until her eyes are more focused. A cloud of questions hits the pretty blue of her eyes, but it’s gone as soon as I part my lips and let my come dribble over her engagement ring.
I twist her hand to make sure I saturate the behemoth diamond. I hate that she wears someone else’s ring, but I also hate that whoever gave it to her doesn’t realize how wrong this ring is for her.
“Really?” Her laughter is husky, proof of how good she’s been sucking my dick and moaning my name.
She unknowingly has fed my ego, making me believe I could leap fucking buildings. I’d try, too, if she asked me. I’d do anything to make her happy.
“Yeah. Now, at least I know you’ll smile when you look down at your ring.”
“There is that,” she says before surging to her feet and kissing me until both our phones are buzzing with alarms.
We don’t speak or touch again, even though I have this need to talk and never stop talking with her, saying things I never thought I would. The lift gets crowded as we go down to the departure lounge.
I can’t let her go, but at the same time, I can respect her wish to walk ahead of me. She said, there’s too many eyes seeing things that are just for us. Of course, I agreed.
The lift opens, and it’s a sign that our time together has come to a temporary end. Not a permanent one because I knew the second I saw her that this bond of ours is too real and poetic for anything less than the rest of eternity.
I can’t allow fate to give her to someone else.
“Hey, handsome, I’ll see you on the plane. And…” She leans in close, despite saying she wouldn’t. My hand cups the back of her head again as her lips are on my ear. “I’m certain we can figure out how to keep ourselves entertained for a few hours.”
And then she’s gone.
I wait until she’s walking past the chairs we sat on what feels like a lifetime ago before I step out of the elevator.
She turns, and her smile speaks of the intimacy we shared. But then, instead of looking at me, her eyes move and her entire demeanor shifts.
I drop my bags and step closer, ready to race over and defend her from whatever caused my girl’s mood to snap like a bear trap. As soon as I look to the side, I see the issue—the tacky blue bulletproof vests DEA and Interpol wear have the rest of the lounge clearing out pretty quickly.
But not her. She stands just out of my reach.
I’ve done this dance enough and expect them to come for me, but one of the officers beelines to her. And that sets a switch off in my brain.