Page 240 of Waiting Game

Ah, shit.

My semi morphs into a painful erection.

My jersey.

No panties.

And she was jilling off while reading one of my favorite books.

Before she settles her knees on either side of my face, I stare at her and rasp, “If I didn’t love you already, I do now.”

A small smile curves her lips. “I’ve pleased my… Alpha.”

Oh, fuck.

I swallow. “Very much… Omega.”

She shivers as she lowers herself onto me, and I take a deep sniff of her pussy that has her shrieking with laughter and bobbing onto her knees again. “Cole.”

My grin is wider than the Cheshire cat’s. “What? They sniff and scent mark!”

Mia bites her lip. “I should shower first.”

“You showered this morning.”

“Yeah, but?—”

I cluck my tongue, grab a firm hold of her ass, and drag her onto my mouth. I stop with the teasing because I can sense genuine self-consciousness behind the words and decide to take her mind off things by the simplest route.

She’s wet too—slippery and juicy and so fucking devourable that I want to eat her until the end of time.

As the tip of my tongue tunnels through her folds, I flick her clit a couple times before thrusting into her slit, circling the hole that takes me beautifully, and, in between licks, I murmur, “I love your scent. I fucking love this pussy that welcomes me in. I love how you taste and what you do to me?—”

“Cole,” she moans.

I smirk against her slit then suck on her clit until she’s wriggling, riding me, going as far as to surge high enough to rub most of her cunt on my face.

Now that she’s forgotten about being nervous, she’s lost to this chaos, and I’d have her no other way.

When she starts to drag off the jersey, I only know because I’m gusted with a wave of air that’s scented by our mutual soaps. I slide my hands along her back from below. My nails might be short but they’re blunt enough to rake down her spine. She shudders in response then flops forward as I get to work.

Only stopping when she’s screaming my name this time, on the cusp of release, do I flip us over. Ignoring her distressed cries, I settle between her thighs so she doesn’t get the chance to see my dick.

When I’m looming above her, I find her mouth with my own and thrust my tongue into her so she can taste herself. “You’re better than maple syrup, Mia,” I retreat to rumble. “Do you know how sacrilegious that is for a Canadian to say?”

A dopey laugh escapes her.

For a second, we stay like that, my dick settled against her pussy, my weight on her, me covering her, shielding her, blanketing her…

There is nowhere else I’d rather be than here.

Forever.

It’s a stupid time to ask this of her, but… “Move in with me.”

Her eyes pop open. Wide. Enough that I know I’ve ended her buzz. “What?”

“You heard me.”

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