Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(84)

Matthieu cursed again, a rough combination of English and French, as I wrapped one hand around his base. He had a curve in his length, bowing toward my face, one I was pretty sure would feel fantastic brushing inside of me. The head of his cock was weeping, and I sat up on my knees, lapping my tongue over the slit to catch the fluid. Velvety and burning, like a shot of good alcohol. Matthieu snarled and froze at the touch, his breathing loud in the small space.

I did it again and he released a long, quaking groan, thighs flexing and stomach jumping, his entire body fighting the urge to pounce and take control. But he held still, even as I took him deeper in my mouth, pumped his length with my hand and cupped his balls.

I didn’t usually go down on the betas I met in the club. I wanted to make sure that I got off on those excursions, not the random partners I met. This also wasn’t something I’d been bullied into with Indy. It might’ve been Matthieu who was groaning and moaning at the feel of my mouth on his pulsing cock, but I was getting wetter too, the longer he held still and let me have my way.

This was something I’d never asked for with an alpha. Alphas didn’t give up control, and to be honest, I had been so determined to catch one because I’d wanted that thrill of surrendering. Matthieu’s surrender was twice as heady as any of the early nights with Buzz or any other alpha who’d given me an hour of their time.

I licked stripes up his length, sucked at his tip until he was shaking in my hands, and then pulled him deep into my mouth with long drags and bobs of my head till he hit the back of my throat. Underneath my hand at his base, his knot grew swollen and pulsing, begging for attention.

“Fuck, merde. Lola, Christ,” Matthieu chanted a long litany of expletives and pleas as I toyed with him. His fingers squeaked over the leather, leaving sweaty handprints behind.

I wanted him to touch me again. I wanted his hands in my hair, tugging. Or even on the back of my neck, guiding me to the right pace, forcing me deeper on his length. He never so much as bucked, even while I rolled his sac in my hand and mouthed down to his base where they met.

“Touch,” I said, lifting my head just long enough to catch my breath.

Matthieu’s hands flew off the seat, but they weren’t forceful. They scooped my hair up away from my face, piling it on the back of my head in one of his hands, the other resting gently over the back of my neck, thumb stroking my cheek. I squeezed my hand harder around his knot and sucked, hollowing my cheeks and taking Matthieu as deeply as I could. Matthieu moaned and then purred as I pulled slowly up, licking a swirl over his head and mouthing down the underside of his length. When I made it back to the tip, there was a small dribble of fluid waiting for me.

“I’m so fucking close,” Matthieu rumbled.

So I did it all again, Matthieu stiff as a board in the seat as he sank into my mouth until my nose was against my own gripping fist. A long line of curses fell from his lips as I drew back up, panting gasps as I teased his cock with kisses and licked away the pre-cum. On the fourth slow deep thrust into my mouth, he gave in.

“Don’t stop, Lola. Please, please don’t stop.”

My hand left his sac just long enough to give an encouraging squeeze to the back of his hand. And then Matthieu was urging me faster, deeper, both of us desperate to see him crashing over the edge.

“Now,” Matthieu hissed, tugging on my hair.

I forced myself to relax and kept sucking and pulling as Matthieu arched and let out a long shattering, low howl of pleasure as he exploded on my tongue, knot pounding his pulse against my palm. He was fiery down my throat, the warmth spreading through me even as I gagged a little. I eased up and caught my breath, slowly pulling away, careful to catch every drop. When my tongue flicked over his head, Matthieu growled.

His hands grabbed me by my neck and arm, dragging me back up against his chest. I met his lips in a rough kiss, trying to keep all his flavor to myself as his tongue ravaged my mouth. He turned me on his lap, almost like a bridal carry, so that I was laying in his arms and against the side of the car. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere—squeezing on my breast, gripping the back of my bare thighs, and then up, hooking under my wet panties and thrusting into my aching sex.

I shouted at the sudden intrusion, and Matthieu swallowed the sound, tongue stroking against mine, his fingers pumping roughly into me, thumb hunting for my clit. I thrashed in his hold and his free hand clamped on the back of my neck, holding me in place. Panic spiked, but so did ecstasy as he found my clit and my g-spot at the same moment, thumb and fingers manipulating me into a sudden, shocking orgasm.

The anxiety melted away as I arched and then collapsed under the thick and drugging feeling that followed the orgasm. Matthieu’s kiss softened into gentle presses and pulls, and my arms twined around his shoulders, fingers slipping through silky strands. His touch was careful too, slowly guiding me through sweet aftershocks.

“That’s it,” Matthieu murmured. “You didn’t think I’d leave you wanting, did you, Lolotte?”

The name made me shiver, as did the shallow but steady pumping of his fingers.

“You almost followed the rules,” I said, leaning back against the car and sharing a smile with him. I wasn’t mad, I was just—

I gasped as his thumb brushed my over-sensitive clit again. I tried to scoot back, but Matthieu shook his head, touch following.

“No, not done yet,” Matthieu whispered, curling his fingers inside of me and then pushing in his ring finger too to stretch me wider.