Page 11 of Such a Lovely Omega

“Omega, are you sure? I want to make this good for you.”

“Don’t make me beg. Actually, I think I’m already doing that.”

“Then let’s make sure it’s very good for us both.” I grasped his hips and lifted him onto all fours. “Grab your cock.”

He shuddered, but he did as I asked, now balanced on one arm and his knees, but he was already jerking at his dick, his elbow sawing back and forth when I tested his slick. So slippery, I put the head of my cock at his hole and rocked my hips, the head disappearing inside him. Now I was the one with tremors, but I locked my legs and drove in deeper, his hot walls closing around me. In and out, faster and faster, my grunts creating a harmony with his moans until I leaned in and ordered, “Come now, omega.”

No marking…this time.

Chapter Nine

West

Hot kisses pressed against the back of my neck. “Mmm,” Alex said from behind me. “I thought that would wake you up.”

“But why?” I giggled. Me. Giggling. I shook my head at the silliness, but at the same time lapped it all up. The alpha who had made fast then sweet, slow love to me the night before, lit up all new facets of my life.

“Because it’s almost nine, and I’m starving.” He slid his hand along my hip before wrapping it around the base of my cock. “All kinds of starving.”

We shared a shower that was anything but clean and then stumbled into the kitchen. Alex had on his jeans from the night before and nothing underneath.

“Should we order in?” he asked, fumbling with the espresso, latte, cappuccino, whatever machine. The best on the market, Emile had said, claiming he had to have it.

I shook my head. “Let me get that for you. I’d like to cook for you if that’s okay?”

Alex wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face into the crook of my neck. “I would love that, omega. Thank you. You’re so giving—in and out of the bedroom.”

Funny how one person can appreciate another more than they’d been appreciated in a lifetime.

“You weren’t so bad yourself.”

While I whipped up some French toast to be topped with blueberry-lemon compote, Alex sipped coffee and cleaned up behind me, washing bowls and utensils so there wouldn’t be a mess when we sat down to eat. Something I never managed on my own. He set the table for two and, after some coaching from me, found the maple syrup.

I really should’ve stopped comparing Alex and Emile in my head, but the contrast was so glaring, I couldn’t help myself. Emile went to the back porch in the morning, saying he needed alone time. Time to think. Time to collect his thoughts. What he really did was go outside to talk to the neighbor. It irked me. He could be cordial and friendly, making light conversation with him but not with the omega who slept in his bed.

“Where did you go there?” Alex took my cup and made me another round of espresso. He was a fast learner. It took me three times to figure out that damned machine.

“Nowhere,” I lied through my teeth.

“Tell me, West. There’s nothing you can say that will lessen how I feel about you. Good. Bad. Ugly. Mean. Even if I was a disappointing lover. Lay it on me.”

“Never that. You were”—my cheeks flamed—“spectacular. I served us both up four pieces of French toast and spooned compote onto both. “I’m feeling guilty about not feeling guilty.”

Expecting Alex to laugh, I braced myself for impact. He reached for the maple syrup and poured some on my French toast first and then his own. “There are no rules about how you are supposed to feel, West. What you feel, you feel.”

My shoulders and jaw relaxed, releasing the built-up tension that started in the moment I woke up every day. “I’m a widower, and my mate has been gone not even a year, and I’m wrapped up in you like I never was with him. I threw myself at you the moment we were alone. That’s not something to feel bad about?”

“No. No one, no matter what stage in life they are in, should feel guilty about receiving and giving love.”

He said love. Alex said love. I stabbed my French toast and stuffed a bite in my mouth, closing my eyes and trying to slow my rapid heartbeat.

“West?” he urged. He grasped the underside of my chair and slid me closer. “West. Omega, look at me.”

I opened my eyes slowly to see Alex’s lines in his forehead deepen. He was worried again. I kept doing that to him, and my wolf didn’t like it. He wanted us to settle in and be at peace—or at least lust together. This alpha had a grip on me, and I wanted it so badly.

“I’m looking.”

“There you are. Listen, let’s not label this quite yet. I think you’re beautiful and sweet. Such a lovely omega. But we’ll take this at your pace. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”

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