Prologue Sleigh Me In The Garage #3
“Oh really?” His hands rove up my sides, thumbs digging into the soft curve of belly, up to the underside of my breasts. “Not yours, hmm? ‘Cause every time I say something nice, you squeeze down on me like you’re the only one who gets to keep me.”
That is…shockingly unfair.
Damn him…
I try to scoff, but it comes out as a needy, strangled sound, full of heat and longing and the deep, insatiable rush I get whenever Nash gives me even an inch of honest praise.
Shut up, brain, do not analyze it.
He starts slow, rolling his hips, dragging his cock through me, up against the spot that melts my thoughts to frosting; every beat is matched with a new compliment, low and rough and sticky with intent.
“That’s it. Fuck, you’re gorgeous, you know that?” He bites down on my shoulder, hard enough to tingle, not hard enough to break. “Look at this body—all curves, all sugar, all mine. You’re leaking down my cock, making a mess on my bike, and you’re still pretending you don’t want to hear it.”
Colored lights strobe across every exposed inch of us, making the scene extra grotesque and extra pretty, like Nash is re-skinning my entire world for maximum seasonal chaos.
I am not winning against this onslaught.
Snow is starting to fall in real earnest outside, the flakes catching and sticking to the window glass in neon-lit starbursts.
It’s cold enough out there for ice to fog the windows, so the only real light inside is the mesh of LEDs draped across Nash’s garage like a crime scene staged by hyperactive elves.
Every time I open my eyes, the bulbs refract in the polished tank, sending wild streaks of color over my bare arms, my thighs, and the trail of handprints Nash is leaving behind.
I grind back on him, desperate now, just trying to keep it together.
Instead, all I do is turn Nash on more.
“Look at that. You like when I talk about you?” He rocks forward, cock buried to the hilt, and I nearly scream. “Why does every compliment make your pretty little cunt clamp down so hard?”
I want to punch him.
I also want to beg him to say it again.
I settle for whimpering, drool pooling against the cold tank as the pleasure ratchets up into full-blown need.
Inside, it’s all heat and light and friction. Nash is a monster, sure, but he’s also careful. I can feel him holding me up, bracing every reckless movement, making sure no matter how badly I shake, I never actually touch the ground.
Outside, the snow packs into drifts, silent and heavy.
We’re a hurricane inside a snow globe, and the world can watch but not touch.
He keeps going, lewd praise tumbling with every stroke.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” He teases, knowing from the way my pussy is contracting around his length.
“You want to know what I see when I look at you? Fucking temptation. You make me want to do every bad thing. Gorgeous eyes, perfect mouth, that voice—mmm, that voice when you moan for me. Should I list more, babe, or you gonna admit you’re into it? ”
I shake my head.
Deny, deny, deny.
“N-no. I just—you’re—“
“See? Eyes dilating. Christmas lights all over your skin. You’re going to break, aren’t you, Sugar?”
I want to tell him he’s got no effect.
Yet, every word from Nash drags a new pulse of slick from me, makes my entire body clench and seize around him, heightening everything until I can’t even remember why I was pretending to argue.
Pressure hammers between my legs, so tight it almost hurts.
I’m so fucking close.
Trying to prolong the inevitable is simply a losing game, and the reality is, we both know it.
“Say it. Say you want to hear me tell you how hot you look. How perfect you feel. Say you want to be my Omega, right here, where anyone could walk in and see you dripping for me.”
I could die. Right now.
Just melt on the spot and be immortalized in the museum of “Omegas who got absolutely destroyed by compliments and Alpha cock and the holiday spirit at the same time.”
But most humiliating? Most damning?
I want it. All of this sensual madness with this Alpha that drives me wild, inside and out.
My bones turn to gingerbread, femurs soft and crumbly, whole body gooey with the struggle between pride and need.
I look down, try to focus on the snowflake-glitter stuck to my skin, try to recall why it was so important to keep up the snarky persona, and all I get is a view of my own wrecked, ruined body reflecting back in the chrome. Nash’s handprints and my wild hair.
I look like all the best and worst ideas I ever had.
Tell me how I’m supposed to fight that.
He slows his pace, not out of mercy, but to make me listen.
Each drag of his cock is deliberate, the dirty talk never stopping.
“Fucking exquisite, that’s what you are. Every inch. Every sound. Every mess you make on me. Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, and you’re only getting sweeter the more you try to resist.”
The air is so cold in the garage I can see our breath, little clouds of lust and shame and want rising every time I gasp for air. The window glass is half-frozen, but inside, my skin is a heat map of pink and red and sheer, helpless lust.
“Should I take you out in the snow, Princess? Let everyone see who you belong to, see how sweet you sound when you’re getting what you need? Or should I keep you here, safe in my garage, fucking yourself dumb on my cock where it’s warm and dripping and all lit up?”
I whimper.
Nash takes that as a win.
“You say you don’t want my compliments, but your body tells a different story.
” He leans over me, the scent of pine and bourbon so thick it makes me dizzy, stubble scraping over my ear.
“You love when I call you beautiful. Love it when I say you’re the only one in the world who could ever get me like this.
Can you feel it, how wet you are for me? ”
I can. I really, really can.
“You’re gonna come undone just for me. The Alpha that you love and hate.”
My entire existence collapses into sensation. Lights, color, the velvety cold under my hands and the inferno between my legs, the sound of Nash’s possessive, confident voice in my ear as I lose the will to pretend, even for another second.
Nash pounds into me harder, punishing and flawless, and each filthy compliment leaves me clenching down on his cock, making everything wetter, louder, and even more humiliatingly intense.
“You don’t want to hear you’re pretty? Fine. Strongest, smartest, most unhinged Omega I’ve ever met. The way you always look at me when you want something? Fuck, that’s a drug, babe. The way you sound when you moan for me? Perfect. Fucking perfect. Tell me you don’t love that.”
My hips rock back on instinct.
I feel my body clamp and flex and seize, and Nash is no longer even pretending to hold back.
The world narrows to him, and me, and the relentless pulse of filthy words and blinding pleasure.
“Say it, Rev. Say you want more. You want my compliments. You want to be filled up and called my Omega, even if it makes you crazy.”
I want it.
I want it too much.
“Fuck…I want it,” I whimper in defeat, the pleasure boiling over.
I’m so close—so, so close. I’m going to cum any fucking second.
He knows it, too.
I am past the point of being cute.
I am past the point of arguing, snarking, or pretending I’m the one in control of this plot.
Nash’s cock pounding into me with the kind of devotion that should be covered by medical insurance, and the only thing left is the splintering, frantic need to finish.
“Shut up,” I whimper, high and desperate, the sound so wrecked it echoes off the chrome and all over again in my brain. “Nash, shut up, or—fuck—”
But he hears the catch in my voice.
Smells it, too, the spike of vanilla sugar in the air, the clutch-and-release of my slick every time he compliments me, and oh, he doubles down. Of course he does.
He snakes a hand under me and finds my nipple, pinching just right—enough sting to make my vision flare, enough heat to send a spike straight to my core.
“This what you wanted, sugar?” Nash growls, never slowing his rhythm, just grinding in deeper, cock so thick and perfect everything inside me tightens.
“You want to cum on my cock, let me hear you, let me feel just how much you love being ruined? That’s what you like, isn’t it? Pinched just so, while I’m buried eight inches deep and fucking telling you how divine you are?”
I shudder.
The word “divine” goes straight to my brainstem and detonates it.
“You are, you know. Divine.” Another twist, another curl of pain-pleasure at my breast, and I’m arching, helpless, shameless, wild.
“The prettiest, cleverest, most out-of-control Omega I’ve ever seen, and don’t get me started on that pussy.
Christ, it’s a miracle I don’t lose my mind every time I see you bent over for me, lights reflecting in your eyes, looking like the cover to every X-rated Christmas card I never mailed. ”
My hand scrabbles at the tank, leaving a wild smear of condensation and glitter and pride.
His voice hones in, words so rough and full of intent I feel them everywhere.
“You’re fucking mine, Rev. Despite all the followers and the fame and those Alphas panting after you, it’s my cock you want. My hands on you. My words turning you inside out even while you tell me not to.”
That’s it.
I go liquid.
“Tell me who you love,” Nash bites in my ear, thrusting harder, every word designed to undo me.
“You—you—” I gasp, whimpering as another bolt of pleasure shoots up my spine. “You, you asshole, you—”
He laughs, a wild, unrestrained sound, but there’s tenderness woven into every movement.
“That’s right. And you know what, princess?
If all those Alphas wanted to get their hands on you, they’d have to get through me first. I’d set the whole damn world on fire before I let anyone ruin you but me.
This body? This sweet, curvy, insatiable body?
It’s all mine now. It’s Christmas, so I’m making a wish. ”