Page 77 of Shadowlands Omega

Lord Yaron does not hesitate. Alright, he hesitates for the first second, and then not another second more. He drops to all fours. The sight…dear gods of sin…the sight of it. This Lord crawling to me like a beggar to a queen. His shoulders move powerfully and I admire them, wishing the fabric of his shirt was gone so I could appreciate them even more. And then, I realize…that I can make that happen. All I have to do is ask for it.

“Stop.”

He stops on the instant. His gaze is pinned to mine. It’s never left. He licks his lips and they shine blood-red as he rises up onto his knees to bare for me his torso and chest. “What do you command, my queen?”

My pulse is racing. My heart…my lungs. I can barely breathe. I fall back onto the bed, perching on the edge with my legs slightly spread. I can’t quite assume the power pose I was going for because my feet don’t touch the ground. Slowly, I kick off my boots. They thunk to the ground one at a time.

“Take off your shirt.” He draws his tunic out of his trousers. When he reaches for his belt, I stop him. “No. Leave your belt and pants and boots.”

He nods and slowly, so fucking slowly, he removes his tunic. It’s a strange construction, layered flaps of textured leather and roughspun cotton. I don’t care what it’s made out of, though, I only care how it looks, and even more, how it looks when his bare chest comes into view.

I’m startled. I have seen him without a shirt on before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him likethis. I’ve never been so, so…concentrated on him like this before. He’s not sacrificing for me and I’m not withering before him. He’s just…displayed.Positioned for my perusal. For my own personal use. However I see fit. Gods, I want to touch him. I want to touch him in so many ways.

He tosses the garment to the side and I don’t miss the way the muscles pulse beneath his chest — his beast, struggling to restrain itself. I crook my finger and he comes forward again. It takes him only two strong prowls, his body moving like a panther in the dark, before he reaches the edge of the bed. His torso lifts, his shoulders positioned between my knees. He hooks his biceps beneath my thighs and slides his hands onto the bed, up my outer hips. He grabs me forcefully. My lips part and a gasp escapes them.

Yaron kisses my inner knees. Each one. The left first, and then the right. He bites the fabric of my pantaloons, nipping dangerously at my skin through them. “A few days ago, you flinched from me when I was in such a position. Is it your intention to flinch from me today?” he says, his warm breath heating me up everywhere.

“No, Yaron. Today, I will give you what you need and what we both desire.”

He bites my inner thigh through my pants. Harder this time. My eyes roll back in my head. My head rolls back on my neck. My arms are trembling as they attempt to support the weight of my torso and not simply flop back and let him take me. “Is it because I took those lashes that you reward me with this?” His fingers dig into my outer thighs. Three clawed nails tip each hand, two blunt ones that dig into me harder, but hurt less than the rest.

I’m about to scream at him to fuck me, but I bite my bottom lip, needing to maintain the illusion of control. I’m not in control. I’m notout of control, but I am not in control here. “In part.”

“What’s the rest? Don’t tell me it’s pity for my pain…”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want your pity. I want your heart.”

I reach down between my thighs and grab a fistful of his hair. I yank on it hard enough for him to hiss and tip his head back. I look down at him, meeting his gaze boldly, and say, “You’ll take whatever I see fit to give you, Lord of the Shadowlands. Now make me come. If you do a good enough job, I might take it upon myself to reciprocate.”

I’ve barely got the words out before Yaron tosses my skirts up to my chest and yanks down hard on my waist, dragging me to the edge of the bed so that my ass half hangs over the edge while my thighs brace on his shoulders, heels twitching against his shoulder blades.

He doesn’t tease me. He doesn’t coax me into submission. He does what he’s told. His mouth latches onto my pussy through the thin fabric of my trousers. He soothes my labia with the flat of his tongue. It’s hot and wet but, through the fabric of my pants, not nearly so wet as I am. “You say you’re not out of control, Omega, but you’re dripping for me,” he says, voice raspy and so, so low. “You taste divine.” He makes me so hot. He’s rumbling so hard, everything about him is shaking.

I’m about to command him to shut the fuck up and take that cunt like a good boy, but he beats me to the finish. A tearing sound is followed by a blessed coolness as he blows softly against my sex, bared to him now. I bite my bottom lip as I watch him look up the length of my body and worship my lower lips with his tongue.

“Yaron,” I whisper.

His eyes flare. He plunges his tongue deep within me and when I moan, he does it again. And again. And again and again. My heels are seeking purchase, looking to rock and take control, but he doesn’t give it to me. Instead, he uses the breadth of his shoulders to force my legs farther apart so that I’m completely at his mercy. I want to open my mouth to challenge him, to put myself back behind the reins, but he’s a cruel torturer and every time he slows down enough for my mind to catch back up to clarity, he does something to throw me back over the edge.

My elbows give and my spine hits the mattress. My fists clutch the flimsy sheets and my face screws up as he holds me on the cusp of an orgasm, on the edge of despair. “Yaron!” I shout as his tongue runs roughly over my folds, laving my clit, worshipping it. He dips his tongue inside my body and I lie there panting as his two declawed fingers slip inside of me, his tongue never leaving me.

The fullness is heavenly. His tongue slips free of my body and starts to work faster, circling back up over my clit. His free hand is roaming over my outer thigh, beneath the folds of my skirts and the torn fabric of my useless fucking pants. I want to kill Zanele for insisting I wear them right now, never more so than when he fists the fabric he finds at my waist and tightens it, simultaneously pressing down on my belly so I can feel his fingers working inside of me even more.

I can’t hold on. I grab his hair and I’m screaming as I burst. The orgasm slaps me, spasming through me. I can barely hold on. I can’t hold on. I’m not holding on…

I’m gasping and when he purrs against my wet, sensitive flesh, the reverberations echo through me, forcing my orgasm to spiral into a second, or maybe just keep spiraling. I can’t tell. I can’t feel anything but everything. The wickedness of his tongue is unending. He flicks it against my clit like a lash, culling more from me than I knew I could give and more than he has a right to take. His fingers are pumping furiously into me and out of me and just when I think I can’t give anymore, he stands, bringing my whole lower half with him and changing the angle.

I can’t breathe as he pushes me again to a final pinnacle of destruction, and when I come down, the room spins. Everything is hazy. The first thing and the only thing I’m able to focus on is the mania in his eyes. They’re electric, glowing like moonstones when he tilts his head to the right, before returning to grey. He prowls over me, grabbing me around the back of the neck and yanking my body further onto the bed. I’m limp, unmoving, limbs all splayed.

His two fingers covered in my slick find my lips and pass them, shoving all the way to the back of my throat. I am undaunted and suckhard, tasting myself upon them. Even though I’m near to gagging, it’s Yaron who chokes. He yanks his hand back, fingers scraping on my teeth, and reaches for the front of my corset with a devilish gleam in his eye.

I grab his wrist, panting, and twist his hand back. “Don’t you dare. Flip me over, unlace me. Don’t you dare destroy this corset.”

He growls, an animal in his throat, no words to be found. But he does as I ask, flipping me onto my stomach. He works through the laces quickly and I’m hoping he used his nails and not his claws to untangle them. I’m breathing hard, feeling strangely nervous as he pulls me up into a seat and yanks my corset off and my dress down. His gaze rakes hungrily over my breasts when I shift around. He grabs his belt.

“Don’t,” I say, regaining my balance a little bit. A very little bit. My head…I can barely breathe or think, but I want…more. I lick my lips. I’m breathing so hard. He’s frozen in time, not breathing at all.

---