Page 85 of Claiming Their Omega

Easton smiles, drawing his hand away to take the laptop from me and read what I’ve written. His gaze burns as his eyes scan the screen.

My face catches fire as I watch him read, because I know all the dirty things that are on the screen. He’s already seen me naked and done some pretty dirty things with me himself, so it shouldn’t be embarrassing, but even though I trust him and he’s proven he’ll take care of me, this still kind of feels like someone reading my diary over my shoulder as I write it.

It’s weird.

After what feels like an eternity, Easton glances away from the screen and grins at me.

“It’s amazing,” he says, and I’m instantly conscious of how close he is. His face is only a few inches away from mine, so close I can feel and hear him breathing. It’s elevated.

“Really?” I ask, my face flaming.

“Definitely, even though it’s a cliffhanger. What happens next?”

“Good question. I hit a bad stretch of writer’s block and I’m just not sure where to take it from there.” Easton grins and a teasing glint sparkles in his gray eyes. I love this side of him. He’s much more playful and lighthearted than I thought he was before I knew him as well as I do now. “What are you smirking about?”

“I can help if you want. You know, give you some inspiration.” He winks at me, and my cheeks burn.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Easton chuckles. “Okay. Then go ahead and keep writing.” I rest my fingers on the keyboard, but no matter how hard I try to think, words won’t come. Easton rests his hand on one of my shoulders. “It’s okay. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Trust me, that’s much easier said than done.”

He trails one finger from my shoulder all the way down my arm to the tender patch of skin between my bicep and forearm. A chill ripples through me. “That’s not helping me think.”

“No? How about this?” he whispers as he moves closer, his lips hovering less than an inch away from my neck. He lets out a long, slow exhale, sending his hot breath cascading down my torso, and I shudder. “Write what I’m doing to you.”

My body thrums. The suggestion is hot as hell and perfect for where the story stopped. Like they’re suddenly possessed, my fingers start flying across the keyboard, depicting everything he’s doing in painstaking detail. I describe the warmth and moistness of his breath on my neck, the way it makes all the hairs stand straight up when he breathes or speaks, and the tantalizing tickle of his fingertips brushing up and down my arm.

“There you go,” he mutters, his lips fluttering against my earlobe and making me sigh. It’s hard to concentrate on writing when what he’s doing to me feels so damn good. I’d much rather close the laptop and go to bed with him, but I want to finish this scene.

And who says I can’t do both?

Easton’s hands drape over my shoulders, snaking down my chest to my breasts. He cups one in each hand, giving them a gentle squeeze, and I squirm under him as I keep writing. His thumbs flick across my nipples, hardening them, and I chew my lip to keep my focus despite the tingle he’s causing in me.

“Write how good I’m making you feel. I want to see it,” Easton whispers in my ear before he nibbles on the lobe. I shudder and write something without looking at the screen, so for all I know it’s gibberish, but it’s hard to care with his hands all over me like this.

“There you go. Just like that.” One of his hands moves farther down my body, lodging itself between my legs. I’m already a little wet, but feeling his fingers there is only making it worse. “Would your character like this?”

“She’d be crazy not to,” I mutter back.

“Then write it. Just like I’m doing to you now,” he says as he snakes his fingers into my shorts and pulls my panties aside. They glide across my lips, making me shudder. “How would it feel for her to have this happen?”

“Like she’s dancing on a knife’s edge of desire,” I say as I write the same words, barely able to get them out. “She’s overcome with it. It’s all she can think about, a compulsion. A need.”

“Go on.”

“Like she can barely stand the anticipation, the teasing of his fingers against her pussy, knowing that what she really wants is something more. Something deeper. And that, if she plays her cards right, it’s exactly what he’ll give her.”

“Mm, I love the sound of that too,” Easton says and plants a kiss at the base of my neck where it meets my shoulder. “How would it make her feel if this happened?” He pushes a finger into me, and I can’t stop a gasp from hitching in my throat.

“Electric,” I say, breathless. My fingers are still moving across the keyboard, but even I don’t have a clue what they’re writing. And it’s getting harder and harder to care. But Easton drags his finger out of me, surprising me just as much as when he put it in.

“Stand up,” he orders gently. I push back from the desk, making the chair groan with the movement, and stand. “Good. Now keep your fingers on the keyboard.” I stay bent over, my back slightly arched, as he reaches around me to unbutton my shorts.

Desire rushes through me as he unzips them then drags them down to my ankles along with my panties, but I keep writing, describing each of his movements and touches.

“How is she feeling now? The character in your story?”

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