Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(11)

No knot tonight.

Maybe tomorrow night.

And maybe tonight…

"I want you to lick me," I whispered, my eyes wide at the words.

Bear purred louder, nuzzled against my collarbone, huffed a laugh. His fingers pulled out of me and I whined, until those slick fingers hooked into the waistband of the briefs, pulling it easily down my hips aside from the wet cling of it on my cunt.

The room was dark and full of my perfume and his scent. I could just make out the enormous shadow of Bear's head and shoulders as he scooted down the bed. His hands found mine and placed one in his hair and the other on the back of his neck. My thighs spread to make room for him, and the air was too cold on my wet pussy until Bear puffed a breath over the spot.

"Take what you need," he purred, patting my hands where he'd placed them, then cupping my thighs and spreading them a little wider.

I arched my hips forward and found that mouth on my sex, groaning as his full lips spread me open, tongue flicking at my opening.

Take what you need. Take him.

I dug my fingers into his hair and did exactly that.





5. BEAR





I stood at the foot of the bed, staring into the closet, frowning. I could still taste sugar and almonds and coconut and something floral on my lips, and somehow "Butterfly" had managed to slip back out of the bed and into her makeshift nest after having her way with me.

My lips twitched.

Shyly, sweetly, bashfully having her way with me. Sweet little omega.

It was difficult to remember the number of problems she posed when I was still coated in her scent, so I moved slowly toward the attached bathroom, cranking on the shower. I'd leave the door open to be sure I didn't miss anything, but I needed to wash off and clear my head.

And also jerk off.

Resisting her skittish offer of getting my knot in was more challenging than I'd expected. If she'd been a little more relaxed, begged instead of that careful 'you can,' I probably would've had her pinned on my cock in five seconds flat. Most alphas wouldn't have needed much more encouragement than the half-hearted request.

But I'd worked as a service alpha to omegas in their heat for five years before finding my way to Dead End, and I knew when an omega was really ready for a knot.

Butterfly was going into heat. She was feverish, throwing off perfume, slick running eagerly. And only a heat could send an omega out of a cage and onto an alpha's cock. Her still being half feral probably didn't help. She was operating on instinct and her instinct demanded to be bred.

I grimaced as I stepped into the spray of water. I'd never reversed my vasectomy, but I would get tested today to make sure I was clean and safe for her. She'd need toys for her to use so she had an option that wasn't me. Packaged food because she wouldn't touch the sandwich I'd left her—a smart but inconvenient defense mechanism. And everything else an omega might want.

Chance would have to keep an eye on her and maybe even help me sneak all this shit up to my room. Bubble bath and twinkle lights weren't my usual fare, and if someone saw me carrying in bags of goodies, there'd be questions.

I licked my lips, groaned at the flavor I found there, and reached down to my own cock. It jumped eagerly into my hand, knot swelling fast and hard, aware of how I'd denied us both the night before.

But fuck, it'd been worth it just to watch her have her own pleasure, selfish and sweet. She was underfed, but she had a nice curve to her waist and soft handfuls of breasts. I'd get her back in fighting shape. Get all the vitamins and protein bars I could find.

And I'd make her come as often as she asked. Watch the color smudge over her cheeks, her eyes drifting wildly as if she were searching for some explanation to the sensations I drew out of her, her tongue flicking out over her lips as she fought for breath, pretty nipples sharpening to points.

I grunted and used both hands, one for my knot and one to stroke myself. Her hands were smaller than mine; she would need both of them to stroke me too. I'd worked with dozens of omegas, servicing them through their heats. I could pace myself through Butterfly's too if it came to it, although it created issues with the plan I'd just presented to King. We either needed to introduce the omega to a pack she liked in the next couple days before the heat really set in, or there'd be no turning back until it was over.

And it worried me how much I liked that prospect.

Been too long since I knotted, I tried to tell myself. Been too long since I fucked anyone period, actually.

I groaned as I caught another whiff of the omega's sweet and slick perfume, beautifully sexual, and then my eyes widened as I realized why. She was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, dark eyes fixed to my hands on my cock.

My chest rumbled with a purr automatically—that hungry look on her face seemed to communicate directly to my cock, making it jump in my hand—but I cleared my throat as she stepped forward.

"No." The word was gravel, the direct opposite of what my body wanted, but it made her pause and frown. "Gotta wash you off, Butterfly. Or the others will know."

"That's not washing," she said, and I laughed.

I expected her to stay, to keep watching, but her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed, like she was trying to get a better look and frustrated with the result. Maybe staring at dick wasn't her thing? Fair enough. I savored the sight of her in my T-shirt as she turned away. She was bare under that shirt.