Page 9 of Omission: Part 2

“Good girl. Milk my cock, sweetness.” Another thing I’ve noticed about my female; she likes praise. Those two words set her off again—her hips rise in their limited space and gyrate, small little jerky movements before she locks up.

She doesn’t move. Keeps me buried deep while her chest rises and falls rapidly.

Aya tightens, her walls molding around my length—gripping so tight I can’t move—and a small growl rips from her. Her hunger isn’t abated. If anything, it rises, and I begin to swell again.

I also don’t pull out.

Instead, as her wings unfurl, I flip our positions, giving her one sharp smack across her right asscheek. She’s impaled on my semi-hard cock while the bottom of her iridescent wings grazes my thighs.

Neither of us speak, our bodies moving to meet in small thrusts as the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room. We’re a mess, slick with her release and mine; I inhale deeply and meld that scent with my DNA.

It’s heady and sweet, the perfect mix of dark chocolate and strawberries with a hint of cream and spice. It’s us. It’s perfect.

“Motherfuck, my precious one. I could never live without you.”

“And I love you.” Her words are low, just a whisper while grinding down on me, rubbing her clit on my pelvis as her face lowers to mine. “You’re my everything, Leo. My peace.”

No sooner do those words leave her lips than she twitches, a series of involuntary movements, and holds her breath, falling forward onto my chest. Anaya’s boneless in my hold as she comes again, her muscles spasming and the legs on either side of my hips lock up.

Her cries are no higher than a whisper yet powerful, and I wrap my arms around her while she rides each wave out. My still-hard cock slides in and out now. Lazily now. No rush.

I didn’t come this time, but it doesn’t matter.

Her pleasure is mine, and I’m a blessed man to call her mine.

Because she is. Every single part of her will forever belong to me.

Pressing a kiss to her sweaty temple, I smile against her sweat-slick skin. Breathe us in once again and thank the goddess for this gift because this right here, the feel of her in my arms, is heaven. Because nothing will ever matter more than her happiness, and if I must eradicate an entire kingdom to protect her, so mote it be.

I’ll kill Silla when the time comes, too.

No one touches my queen.

My precious one.

3

LEONARDO

It’s a little past eight in the morning when my precious one rouses from her well-fucked-into sleep. She’s curled up beside me, leg placed across my thighs while her long, golden hair fans out behind her. A few strands stick to the side of her neck and my arm, creating an interesting pattern that reminds me of lightning before it strikes the forest floor, and it’s adorable.

Wild and untamed, Anaya is perfection like this to me.

Something about her being not put together—natural—makes me harder than steel, and my cock gives a not-so-subtle jerk against her flesh. It grazes the soft skin as it rises, each throb leaving behind a pearl-like drop until I’m standing straight and the sheet barely covering our lower halves tents.

That’s what she opens her eyes to.

Her king’s need. A hunger that only rises for her.

“Good morning, precious one,” I say, my timbre deep, and she shivers, those doe eyes peering up at me while her lips part. A little owlish. Still so sleepy. Yet, she’s aware, and the way her leg slides up until it grazes my hardness causes an instant change in me. From calm to near feral in an instant, and she’s on her back before her next inhale, a low squeal slipping past that plump mouth.

Neither of us speak, the seconds ticking as I take her beauty in.

From her beautiful violet eyes to her dainty nose and then lower to those lips again. From how soft she looks—the way her skin reacts as I press her into the mattress, my full body weight over her. Then, there’s how she parts her thighs to cradle my hips, still tender from our earlier mating while exhaling little gasps at the slightest shift of my dick against her slick flesh.

Anaya is always wet for me. Ready to receive her male, an automatic reaction that fills my chest with pride because this wonderous fae trusts me. Knows and accepts my love for her.

“Leo.” That’s all she says in the breathiest voice, her cheeks a warm pink that quickly spreads down across her chest. Her nipples are hard against my chest, and each rapid rise and fall of her chest rubs them across mine, gifting me small electrical pulses each time.

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