Page 142 of Run Little Omega

"Like we were made for each other," I correct, turning to the side and lifting a leg to draw him deeper, as deep as my swollen pregnant belly will allow. "Now fuck me, my alpha."

There's nothing measured or controlled about the way he moves inside me. He withdraws almost completely before driving back in with brutal force, setting a punishing rhythm that has the headboard crashing against the wall with each thrust. His hands grip my splayed leg with bruising intensity, angling me to take him deeper, harder, each drive of his cock hitting places inside me that make me sob with pleasure.

"Take it," he snarls against my bleeding throat, lapping at the claiming bite between words. "Take every fucking inch."

And I do—gods help me, I love the roughness, the primal claiming that speaks to something ancient in my blood. My nails rake down his back, drawing silver-blue blood that crystallizes instantly against his frost-marked skin. I bite his shoulder in return, tasting winter and metal as my teeth break his skin.

His rhythm falters only momentarily at my counter-claim, a growl of surprised pleasure rumbling through his chest before he redoubles his efforts, claiming me with a savagery that would frighten me if it didn't feel so perfectly, desperately right.

Our cillae flare with violent brightness, blue-white light exploding beyond our bodies to coat the entire chamber in crystalline formations. The little ones respond to the surge of power, their movements growing more vigorous inside me—as if they too feel the magic transferring from father to mother in this most primal exchange.

"Can you feel it?" Cadeyrn asks, his rhythm never faltering. "The magic flowing between us. Through us."

I nod, words momentarily beyond my capacity as pleasure builds again within me. Each thrust sends sparks of sensation radiating outward, each withdrawal creates an emptiness that demands to be filled again. My hands roam his back, tracing the powerful muscles that flex and release with his movements.

"Mine," he growls against my neck, teeth grazing my claiming mark as his pace increases. "My omega. My heart."

The possessive declarations would have infuriated me weeks ago. Now they send fresh heat coursing through my veins, my inner walls clenching around him in greedy response.

"Yours," I agree, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. "And you're mine."

His rhythm falters momentarily at my claiming words, surprise and pleasure flickering across his features. Then his smile turns predatory, satisfaction darkening his gaze.

"Yes," he acknowledges, driving deeper with his next thrust. "Yours. Bound to you as surely as you're bound to me."

The dual claiming—his of me, mine of him—sends a surge of magic pulsing between us. Frost explodes outward from where our bodies join, coating the chamber in delicate patterns that glitter in the dim light. The air itself crystallizes around us, suspended moisture particles catching the blue-white glow of our connected magic.

His knot begins to swell at the base of his cock, catching on my entrance with each thrust. The added friction sends fresh waves of pleasure radiating outward from my core, pushing me rapidly toward another release.

"Come for me again," Cadeyrn urges, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control as his own pleasure builds. "Let me feel you fall apart around my cock."

His hand slides between us, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center and circling with precise pressure. The dual sensation—his cock stretching me from within, his fingers working expertly against my most sensitive spot—sends me hurling over the edge without warning.

My climax tears through me with devastating intensity, inner walls clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses that draw a roar from his throat. I'm vaguely aware of frost exploding across the entire chamber, of furniture creaking as ice forms along its surfaces, of cillae spreading from our joined bodies to cover the walls in glowing constellations.

"Briar," he groans, his rhythm faltering as his own release approaches. His knot swells rapidly now, stretching my entrance with each thrust as it prepares to lock us together. "Can I?—"

"Yes," I gasp, understanding his question without him having to complete it. "Knot me. Fill me."

With a roar that shakes the very foundations of our chamber, he drives forward one final time, his knot forcing past my entrance with enough pressure to hover at the exquisite edge between pleasure and pain. It locks inside me, swelling to its full size, stretching me beyond what I thought possible.

His release floods me in violent pulses, each one triggering another wave of pleasure that has me convulsing beneath him. I come again, and again, and again—orgasms stacking on top of each other until I'm incoherent, crying his name interspersed with primal omega sounds I didn't know I could make.

The heat that's been consuming me from the inside out finally begins to recede, replaced by a different kind of warmth—the satisfaction of being thoroughly claimed, properly knotted, completely filled.

Through our claiming bond, I feel his rut-pleasure merging with my heat-release—the primal satisfaction of knotting his omega, the triumph of flooding her with his seed, the pride of providing exactly what she and their unborn children need. The feedback loop intensifies every sensation, our shared ecstasy building upon itself until I can't tell where my pleasure ends and his begins.

Even locked together, his hips continue making small, grinding movements that keep his knot pressed against spots inside me that send continuous aftershocks of pleasure rippling through my oversensitized body. I gasp as another orgasm builds, gentler than the others but somehow deeper.

"That's it," he encourages, his mouth finding my claiming mark again, teeth pressing just hard enough to send fresh sparks shooting down my spine. "One more. Give me one more, little omega."

His hand slides between us, finding where my body stretches around his knot, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves there with precise pressure. The dual sensation—his knot pulsing inside me, his fingers working against me—pushes me over into one final release that has frost exploding from my fingertips in uncontrolled bursts.

As we come down together, still locked by his knot, Cadeyrn carefully shifts us to our sides without separating. His arms cradle me against his chest, one hand splayed protectively over my rounded belly where our children grow.

"That was..." I begin, then trail off, words insufficient to describe what just happened between us.

"Yes," he agrees, pressing a kiss to my temple. "It was."

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