Page 34 of Shattered Omega

Dusk didn’t stand from where he was finishing his piece of toast. “How many?” he asked, and he might as well have been reading a newspaper for his casual indifference.

There was a long silence as Shatter met my eyes for half a second. She pouted, but I felt that spike of lust from her in the bond. Angry, she might be, but this dance she had going on with Dusk turned her on. More, I thought, when we were watching.

“Shatter.” Dusk’s voice was a warning.

She made an angry little sound. “Seven.”

I saw the twitch of a smile on Dusk’s lips as he dropped his crust on his plate and got to his feet.

“Hand or belt?”

Dusk took his time pouring himself a drink of water.

Shatter’s cheeks were burning, and I heard a little growl of irritation from her.

Finally, he stepped up behind her, hand caressing her hip as he waited, lifting her skirt to show the rich skin of her perfect ass to the whole living room and kitchen.

“Belt,” she whispered.

“What?” Dusk asked, hand lingering on her exposed ass, and she shivered at his touch.

“Belt,” she said again, louder.

Dusk waited, his grip on her ass becoming punishing. Shatter wriggled, pressing her cheek to the couch and fixing her gaze on the TV.

“Belt, Alpha,” she said.

“Better.”

Dusk stepped first to the coffee table, where he opened a drawer and pulled out his bottle of massage oil. When he returned behind her, he unclasped his belt and removed it. I saw Shatter shift, trying to get a glimpse of him.

Her nightshade was heavy in the air, and her cheeks were bright pink. I might not swing that way, but I got it. Dusk looked deadly: dark button-up half untucked in black pants as he coiled the belt clasp around his palm, taking his sweet time. His yellow eyes traced her shivering body, bent over the couch as she waited for him.

The longer he took, the more she shifted impatiently, brows bunching in irritation. Her nightshade rose in the room to dangerous levels, and I had to readjust how I was sitting to give my own cock some breathing room.

I refrained from looking to the kitchen, rather preferring not to have the image of batter-stirring-Umbra in an apron and sporting a raging hard on burned into my brain for life.

Dusk brushed Shatter’s ass with his knuckle, and she jumped, the tiniest squeak escaping her before she realised it was just his hand.

“Are you being a brat because you’re mad at me, or because you like what happens when you are?” He trailed his touch to where the slip of lace hugged her flesh. He pressed splayed fingers over her skin.

“I’m mad at—” She cut off with a breath as his middle finger dipped lower, and then he pressed it into her without warning. “I’m mad at you,” she whined.

I snorted at how pitiful it sounded, and her golden eyes snapped up to me with a glare. For half a second anyway, before Dusk added a second finger and her lips parted.

He drew his hand back, letting go. “Are you ready, Gem?”

“Mhmm,” she said, clearly losing her fight in the face of overwhelming lust.

Her whine was so hot as the first belt strike cracked against her skin. She balled her fists, her breathing heavy as Dusk picked up the oil from the counter and rubbed it on her sore flesh.

By the second and third, she was panting, a needy whine rising in her chest as Dusk massaged the oil in.

Fuck me.

I cracked, meeting Umbra’s eyes (only). His batter stirring had come to a complete halt. I knew by the look we shared that we were both getting far too wound up for a Monday morning.

Could we just call it on class and fuck?

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