Chapter 18 #2
“See?” Lucas says. “Hospital perks.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
He licks the pudding cup clean, eyes fixed on me the entire time. There’s a heat to his gaze that I hadn’t expected. My omega senses prickle, alert and sharp.
I want him. Even here. Especially now.
I lean in and whisper, “How much privacy do you think we have?”
He raises a brow. “You feeling frisky?”
“Maybe.” My cheeks go hot, but I don’t look away. “You saved someone’s life. You deserve a reward.”
He grins, wider now, and his hand slides to my hip. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Negotiating the tangle of wires and the creak of the bed is awkward at first, but eventually, I’m kneeling between his legs, hands steady on his thighs. He’s already half-hard, the hospital gown doing nothing to hide it.
I look up at him. He’s staring down, breath shuddering.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He laughs breathily. “Helena, if you stop now, I might actually go into cardiac arrest.”
“Guess I better finish, then.”
I slip him out of the gown. He’s beautiful, even like this, pale and marked with new bruises.
I run my hand up his thigh, tracing the hard line of muscle beneath skin that’s usually bronzed but now paled by hospital lighting.
He tenses and gives a shivery intake of breath, making his chest stutter.
He meets my gaze as I curl my fingers around his cock.
He grows in my palm, lengthening and thickening with each heartbeat.
I run my thumb over the head—just the way I remember from one fumbling night that feels both impossibly distant and deeply present—and he shudders, a small sound scraping up from his throat.
“Jesus, Helena,” he whispers, voice ragged.
His hand trembles, searching for something to hold, and lands on the scratchy blanket.
He grips the fabric, which gives me the beautiful view of his biceps bunching.
I stroke him slowly, savoring the contrast of my cool, careful hands compared to his overheated need.
His hips lift. I press my palm flat against the jut of his hipbone.
“Easy,” I murmur, and he laughs, eyes squeezed shut, the laugh dissolving instantly into a groan.
I lean over him, hair tumbling down to graze his belly, and let my mouth hover above the tip. He’s leaking already, the taste of his pre-cum salty and faintly oceanic. I flatten my tongue and lick him from base to tip, slow and deliberate. Air leaves his lungs in a gust.
He’s so responsive. I love this about Lucas.
He never tries to hide how good it feels.
I take him into my mouth and let my lips stretch to accommodate his girth.
My tongue swirls gentle circles as I slide him deeper down my throat.
The feeling is strange but grounding. I can focus only on this, the new and fragile rhythm of us.
I bob my head, finding a pace that matches the steady beep of the monitor, as if I could sync the two and will him to health with pleasure alone.
If only. The sounds he makes—half-choked, half-laughing—are a balm to something wild and feral inside me.
I realize that I’m shaking a little myself, nerves singing with the intensity of it.
Some part of me is worried we’ll be caught.
Another part—much louder, much more primal—wants the whole world to know.
I glance up. Lucas is watching me with his mouth slack, pupils blown wide. He looks completely at my mercy. The trust in his face stuns me.
He tries to be quiet, to hold back, but every time I take him deeper, a new whimper escapes. He bites his knuckles, eyes rolling back. The sound is everything: fragile, grateful, desperate, alive.
I slow down, letting him rest on my tongue before hollowing my cheeks, sucking gently. He moans then clamps a hand over his mouth, obviously mortified by the volume.
I pull off with a slick sound. “Hey.” My hand keeps working him, thumb teasing the little ridge just beneath the head. He’s throbbing, so close. “You’re allowed to make some noise. The walls will block it out.”
“It’s just—I didn’t expect—”
“I want you to.” I kiss the tip and then swirl my tongue around it. “Let go, Lucas.”
He does. His hips lift off the bed. I press them back down with both palms. The hand in my hair tightens. Not directing, just holding on. Somewhere behind me, the monitor ticks faster.
“Helena—” His voice breaks on my name. “I—fuck—”
His thighs go hard as stone beneath my hands.
The sound he makes is low and helpless and nothing like the Lucas who jokes about pudding cups.
I feel him pulse against my tongue. He cums, pouring down my throat.
I stay with him through all of it, until his grip loosens and his breathing comes back ragged and slow.
I sit back. He watches me wipe my mouth.
Lucas tugs me up, ignoring the IV, and kisses me deep and sweet.
“Best hospital visit ever,” he murmurs against my lips.
I laugh, giddy and free. “Don’t make it a habit.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We curl up together. I feel the omega inside me finally settle. For the first time in weeks, I’m not afraid of what I want.
“Helena?” Lucas whispers, half-asleep.
“Yeah?”
“I really like being yours.”
I close my eyes and let the feeling wash over me, as bright and warm as the summer sun. “And I enjoy being yours, too.”