Omega (Alpha #3) (2 page)

“Trying to make me scream, right here on the deck?”

“Uh-huh. Is it working?” He adjusted me, and now my mouth was crushed to his.

“Nope. Not yet.”
 

He had two fingers in me now. I writhed helplessly as he scissored his fingers inside, and then whimpered in the back of my throat as he pressed a big rough thumb to my clit. Circle, circle. And then he slid his fingers out and smeared my wetness over my clit, his thumb resuming its lazy circles, and I was a mess, biting my lip, my forehead pressed against his, my chest heaving.
 

And then, abruptly, he stood up, depositing me on my feet. Buttoning my jeans, he gave me a twist and sent me stumbling toward the stairs leading to our quarters. “Go get naked, my love. Wait for me. I’ll only be a moment.”
 

My thighs rubbed together as I made my way to our bedroom, the buzz of my jeans brushing together sending delicious vibrations through my core. I was on the edge, mere moments from coming. Frustrated, I hurried up the stairs as fast as I could. I stripped in record time, peeling off my sweater and shirt, unfastening my bra, tossing the clothes aside, and then hopping out of my jeans. I still couldn’t put all my weight on my knee for very long, but that wouldn’t stop me from stretching out on the bed in my panties.
 

He’d said naked, but it’s fun to disobey him.
 

True to his word, I heard him on the stairs a minute later. He already had his black T-shirt off, balling it in his fist and tossing it aside, then stepping out of his khakis as he made the top step. He crossed the room in just his underwear, tight black Polo briefs that outlined his huge cock and cupped his buttocks.
 

“I said naked, babe.”

“You aren’t,” I pointed out.

He peeled his underwear off and stalked over to me, then got on the bed and crawled toward me on his hands and knees. “I am now, but you’re still not naked.”

“What are you going to do about it, Valentine?”
 

He grabbed my ankles and hauled me over to him. I let him pull me so my thighs spread around his trim waist, and then I hooked my ankles behind his back, reaching for him at the same time. But instead of taking my hands in his like I’d thought he would, he gripped both of my wrists in one hand, using the other at my hip to roll me onto my stomach. One hand still gripping my wrists in an implacable but gentle hold, he lifted me by the stomach until my knees were under me and my ass was in the air, presented to him.
 

He tugged my underwear down around my thighs, but left them there.
 

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
 

His hand smoothed over my left ass cheek, and then my right.

SMACK!
His hand cracked against my buttock, stinging it, causing it to tremble, and I fought to keep from flinching or crying out.
SMACK!
The right side now.
 

Oh god.

Oh god.
 

I felt him reach past me and pull open a drawer on the bedside table. Then I watched as he produced a condom. He ripped it open, and sheathed himself with the rubber. Reaching into the drawer a second time, he found what he wanted: a bottle of lube and a thick pink vibrator. He tossed both onto the bed.

“Kyrie?”

“Yes, Roth?”

“Tell me what you want.”

I swallowed hard. “You.”
 

“Me, how?”

“Your cock.”

I felt his hand smoothing over my ass, caressing the globes, and then his finger was pressing against me, back there, pressing. I gasped as he slid a finger into me. I didn’t fight it, but relaxed and let it in. I swallowed a moan as he withdrew his finger and added a second. And then a third.
 

He’d been working me up to this for months now. Teasing me with it. Telling me how good it would feel, how hard I would come. But, so far, all he’d done was use his fingers, stretching me, getting me used to the feeling. Using the vibrator a few times.
 

I wanted it.
 

God, did I want it. So bad.

He applied some lubricant and put his fingers into me back there, then filled my pussy with his cock, and we moved together—the world stopped when I came, hard and fast, immediate, powerful, a breaking wave of orgasmic bliss.
 

He teased me with the tip of his cock, smearing the broad head of it against my clit, and then pushed it into my pussy again, stretching me, and I couldn’t help but moan, loudly.

“Shush, baby. Keep quiet.”
 

“Can’t…help it.”

“You didn’t answer me, Kyrie.” He plunged deep into me, seating himself into me to the hilt, filling me until I gasped at the fullness. His fingers were knuckle deep into me too, so deep. “Where do you want my cock?”

I lifted my ass, writhing against his fingers. “Here.”
 

“Say it, babe.”

“In my ass.”

“Tell me what you want, love. Let me hear it.”

“Fuck me in the ass,” I whispered.

He groaned, this time, driving deep in my pussy and I came, hard and quiet, going tense, mouth open and trembling.
 

In the moment of my orgasm, he pulled out of my slit and withdrew his fingers from my ass. Then he squirted more lube onto himself and onto me, and then fit the tip of his cock to the opening of my asshole, pushing gently, gradually piercing me in fractional increments. “Like this, love? Is this what you want?”

“More.” It was all I could say.
 

A nudge, and the round head of him was inside me, stretching me, a fiery burn. An ache. But I was coming, and that trumped the sting of pain. Roth put his fingers to my clit and circled, and I groaned as the orgasm fluttered and extended, and then his other palm cracked hard against my ass, and I cried out, the sting startling me. Another. And another. Hard enough that I cried out into the mattress, but then…then I realized he was in me deeper than ever. So deep.
 

“How does it feel, Kyrie?”

“Jesus, Roth. It feels good. Too good.”

“Does it hurt?”
 

“A little,” I admitted. “But don’t stop.”
 

“Can you take it, love?”

I touched myself, fingers circling my clit, bringing myself closer, closer, but then Roth stopped me, the vibrator buzzing, touching me with it. I took it from him, pressed the tip of the wildly vibrating dildo to my clit and felt stars detonate within me. Roth was utterly still, half-impaled inside me, but I felt him trembling. Needing. Waiting. I arched my back and slid the vibrator into my opening, and now I was so full, full to the point of aching. I could feel his cock rubbing against the dildo, a thin veil of skin separating them, and I was coming so hard it hurt, coming so hard I was crying with it, unable to do anything but slide the device in and out of me, letting the smaller secondary part of the dildo hit my clit just so, just there. Again. Again.
 

And then I felt Roth spank me, and when I cried out he filled me yet further, pushing himself deeper into my asshole with a slow glide, his hips now meeting the flesh of my buttocks.
 

“Can you take it, Kyrie?” His voice was guttural, frantic, on the edge of control.

“Fuck me, Valentine,” I murmured, pushing back against him.

Oh god. It hurt so good. So deep. So much. So full.
 

And then…he withdrew. Ever so slowly. Just a fraction, but it had me gritting my teeth and shrieking into the bed, gripping the sheets in shaking fists…this wasn’t an orgasm, this was raw pleasure, a thread of pain to make it potent, a fullness that couldn’t be properly described, so much of him, all of my Valentine throbbing inside me.
 

“Jesus, Kyrie, you’re so tight it almost hurts. So perfect.” He pushed back in. “God…love—your asshole is so perfect. How does this feel?”

I couldn’t even speak. I hung my head and bit the silk sheet between my teeth and grunted, arching my back and writhing—
more
, I was telling him, shouting it, screaming it nonverbally.
 

“You like it?”

“God—fuck—yes!” I managed, my voice hoarse, raspy, needing so badly to scream like a banshee but holding it back.

And then he moved again. A slow slide, and I could feel the width of his cock scraping against the taut muscle of my asshole, each stutter of flesh against flesh making me shake and gasp. Oh—fuck. Fuck. He was pushing in, slowly. So slowly. Glacial thrusts, but nonstop now, drawing out…out…and out—and then…back in…fucking me slowly. Fucking my ass with all the gentleness he possessed, but his hands, oh his hands, they gripped my hips with bruising force. As if the grip of his fingers in the crease of my hips was all that prevented him from drilling me so hard I’d break.
 

“Fuck, Kyrie. I can’t take it, love. I need to fuck. I need to move.”

“
Valentine
…” I didn’t know what to say.
 

I wanted that. But I didn’t think I could take it. Not because I was afraid he’d hurt me. No, this felt so good, so perfect, months of anal play gradually stretching me until I was prepared to take all of him like this. I was afraid if he fucked me like he so clearly needed to that the orgasm would just wreck me, would ruin me, would shatter me beyond repair.

Another slow—
ssssslllloooowwww—
withdrawal, and an even slower thrust back in, so I could feel him enter, feel myself stretched further open as the wide hilt of his huge cock filled me. And then he was leaning over me, chest pressed to my back, hands sliding under to cup my breasts, and he was gasping, heaving, growling in his chest.
 

“Roth—” I gasped.

“I’m right there, Kyrie. I can’t—I need to go slow.” He sounded…shredded…as if his control was being sorely tested, more so than it had ever been before.
 

Of all the sex we’d had up to this point, and there had been a lot, I’d never heard him so clearly, audibly shaken by the potency of it all. I’d held him as he cried, yes. I’d fucked him and made love to him when he was an emotional wreck after what Gina had done to him. But that was all different. This was my Valentine needing to fuck yet holding back for me, holding back from what he wanted, which was utterly unlike him. He took what he wanted, from me and from life, and never slowed down or held back.

But this was different.

“Fuck me, Roth.” I reached out and grabbed a pillow, stuffed it under my stomach, drew my knees further forward, pushed back into him, driving him deeper in the process. “Just fuck me. I need it. I can take it. Just—Jesus god, just fuck me.”
 

He straightened behind me, stilled. I felt him breathing, gathering himself. Felt his hands on my back, smoothing down my spine, caressing the globes of my ass, pulling them apart and groaning as he pushed deeper. I could only breathe and moan and grip the bedding. And then, oh god. He pulled out. Almost all the way. Squirted yet more lube on his cock, slid in, pulled out, applied more still, and now he was pushing in and out in tiny flutters, miniature thrusts, and I was driven mad. I’d forgotten about the vibrator as I concentrated on taking in all of Valentine, and now I fumbled for it, found it on the mattress under the pillow, turned it up so it was vibrating on high, touched it to my clit, screamed into the pillow, slid it out, gasping, making a shrieking, breathless sound.

Roth fucked me, a little harder now. A little faster.

I touched my clit again, and was clenched all over by a wracking wave. But still, this wasn’t an orgasm. Not really. I slid the thick pink dildo—which I’d taken in the ass before, since it was smaller than Roth by a good bit—into my pussy and fucked myself with it. Slowly, at first, but then faster and faster, gasping, arching, writhing into it, letting the clitoral stimulator buzz against me. Roth couldn’t hold back now, and was moving in earnest, grinding in and out of me, and it was so much, so good, so incredible I didn’t want it to ever stop. I wanted to let him fuck me like this forever.

He had my hips in his hands again, tugging, and now slid one hand to the base of my spine, pressed the heel of his palm to my tailbone and gripped the crease of my hip in the other hand and I felt his hips slapping against my ass cheeks and felt his cock slam in deep and his thighs brush against the backs of mine. He was pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling with his hands, grunting, driving toward his own orgasm.

I felt him thicken inside me.
 

I felt him quicken.

I matched the now-relentless driving pace of his cock in my ass with the vibrator in my pussy. I was so full and being so thoroughly fucked, harder and harder now, that it was almost impossible to be able to even breathe.
 

“Kyrie—”

“
Fuck…
” I gasped.
 

“Shit, Kyrie. I’m there, love, I’m—oh, ohhhhh fuck….”

And he came, before he could even formulate the words. I felt it, felt him gush into the condom, felt him thicken yet more. I groaned and moved with him as he fucked me, moving the dildo in synch with his pace.

Everything stopped, then, as he came. My blood turned to fire, my muscles—all 640-some of them—contracted and pulsed, and my cunt squeezed and my asshole contracted and I writhed like a madwoman, bit the sheets and screamed as an orgasm unlike anything in my life ripped through me, and Roth kept fucking, fucking, fucking, pushing me through the climax until I was quivering and moaning and crying. And then I came once more, and then again in an unending cycle. I barely knew what was happening as wave after wave of nuclear-powered climax exploded through me, and in me.

As the aftershocks hit me like earthquakes, each one a wracking orgasm in its own right, I felt Roth pull out of me as slowly and carefully as he’d pushed in, by gradual degrees, tenderly.

When he was out of me, I collapsed to my side, tears sliding down my cheeks. I felt him get up and heard him discard the condom, and then he was in bed with me, cradling me against his warm broad chest.