Page 100 of Unhinged
She needs control.
She needs to take something back.
“So what’s it gonna be, Omega?” I ask, keeping my voice low. My scent’s already thick in the air—lemon, black currant, bergamot. I can feel the wet spot in my boxers. It’s sticky and cold now. Kinda uncomfortable. But worth it.
She hesitates.
“While you’re restrained in the chair?” she asks.
“Yup.”
“You don’t wanna touch me?”
I laugh once, short. “I want to touch you so fucking bad. But you need this more than I do. You nearly sliced Gears open—but you held back—like a good little slayer. That energy's still sitting inside you like a bomb. You need to let it out. You need to be the one in charge. So come on, Gidge. Get naked.”
She shivers at the nickname. Her scent shifts and every inhale tastes like fresh-squeezed OJ. Gods. I could live off it.
“I like when Arrow calls me that,” she says, quietly. “I like it even more when the Enforcer of the Renegade says it.”
Fuck.I bite back a groan.
“Trust me, omega.”
“I don’t?—”
“You don’t need to,” I say fast. “You don’t need to think. Just do what feels right. Your instincts are already screaming at you. Let ‘em talk.”
She moves.
She pulls her shirt over her head and throws it. It lands on the floor and she doesn’t even look at it. Her bra’s black satin and tight across her chest and my mouth goes dry. I shift in the chair, but with my wrists cuffed behind me, it just pulls at my shoulders, all tight and aching now.
She unbuttons her jeans next, slides them down, slow. Black thong. White ankle socks. Fuck me sideways, I almost come from that alone.
She steps between my knees and stands there like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Maybe she does.
“You like what you see?” she asks, all breathy and dangerous.
“My dick’s already leaking, and you haven’t even touched me,” I mutter. “That’s what you do to me, omega.”
She straddles my lap. Doesn’t sit, yet. Just close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off her. The scent of her slick curls intothe air—bright orange and soft jasmine, sweet and heady and completely fucking wrecking me. I want to lick it right off her thighs, but I can’t move. Can’t touch. Just have to sit here and take it.
Then she takes her bra off, and my head falls back against the chair. She’s perfect. All curves and skin and power.
“Fuck, Brydgett,” I breathe. “You could kill me right now, and I’d thank you for it.”
She lowers herself slowly until her pussy is pressed right against the bulge in my jeans. Her heat. Her scent. Her weight.
It’s too much.
My hips jerk without thinking. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back off.
“I’m not gonna kill you,” she says, voice low.
“No?” I rasp, licking my lips. “Then what are you gonna do, little Omega?”
She just grinds on me.
Slow. Intentional.
