Annie Nicholas: Omegas In Love

Sex got better with time, and being with Katrina these past two years had proved it. Tyler twisted in the cramped bathroom stall as Katrina squeezed in against him and closed the door. An electric shock of pain shot along his nerve–he’d jarred his funny bone against a metal bolt that held the faded fiberglass walls together. “It’s too narrow in here. I can’t maneuver.”

“That is half the fun.” Katrina whispered with her Asian accent, then undid his zipper.

His pain vanished.

She knelt in front of him and pulled his waistband below his hips. His cock had thickened when she’d asked him to follow her to the restaurant’s bathroom after lunch, so he was already erect. She caressed him, her delicate hands confident in their movement.

Never, in a thousand years, would he have guessed they’d be in this position one day. He took a shaky breath and leaned his weight against the cool wall behind him. They’d grown so close, he couldn’t imagine a future without her.

Leaning forward, she licked her ruby red lips before wrapping them around his shaft. At a slow, easy pace she swallowed him.

Time stopped. Mesmerized, he couldn’t pull away his gaze. Her thick lashes formed crescent moons when she closed her eyes and stroked her tongue against him. So soft and smooth…

He moaned and it echoed in the closed-in space. Cutting the sound off in a gasp, he leaned his head back against the stall. “Everyone in the restaurant will hear me, Kat.”

Ignoring his protests, she withdrew from him, then slid his cock farther down her throat, sucking him into a moist, warm haven.

Bracing the stall as if it were caving in, he remained on his feet, even though his knees threatened to give out while her rhythm became more demanding. Oh God. Short of breath, he struggled with his inner wolf-like beast. Its presence rose, threatening a shift. “Kat…” He tried to warn and whisper, but it came out more like encouragement.

The beast part of him loved Katrina as much as the human did and it wanted to participate. However, public shifting was forbidden by his alpha.

The scent of Katrina’s beast filled his nose. Shit. She was close to shifting as well. Things became more aggressive when her wolf-shifter nature joined them in sex, which would be great at home, not in a fucking public bathroom. His afternoon was going to get very, very complicated if he didn’t tone things down.

She grasped his ass and dug her long nails-turned-claws into his skin.

All his reasoning ability crumbled with the pain–oh–the pain. It turned into searing pleasure. His internal wires must be crossed somewhere for him to love the claws.

The door to the bathroom creaked open and Tyler swallowed a groan. He almost had an aneurysm.

Footsteps followed, with the sound of unzipping.

Katrina didn’t stop, or even slow down. Having someone else in the room didn’t appear to bother her. She’d changed so much from the time he’d met her, from a shy, frightened girl to a confident, strong woman. Well, she’d smack him for calling her a woman. They were both werewolves in the Vasi pack, far from being human.

He listened to the male use the urinal.

All the while, she sucked hard and fast.

Unable to breathe or move, Tyler remained silent until the stranger washed his hands and left. “Oh my God, Katrina, I’m so close.” He pulled himself from her mouth and lifted her onto her feet. In a frenzy of hands, he slid her red silk dress over her hips and she pulled his pants lower. Eager to be inside his mate, he didn’t waste time with her panties and tore them off in an act of what he called He-Manism.

Nothing about him would make anyone think He-Man. All one hundred and fifty pounds of curly, red-headed male made them think Ronald McDonald. Never mind that he could bench press a car in his beast form. Werewolves might be legal citizens now, but not many tolerated them, so he kept a tight lid on his secret identity to keep his job.

Why a beauty like Katrina even paid him any attention still amazed him.

She trapped his face between her hands and gazed at him with her dark, tilted eyes. “Take me, Tyler. Make me yours.” Hot damn, she could read his mind sometimes.

In his suit’s jacket pocket was the engagement ring he wanted her to wear. That would truly make her his. Lifting her by the hips, he pressed his cock against her clit and rubbed. He could make her climax this way–he’d done it before.

She gripped his shoulders and the jacket seam popped. “Fuck me.” Her voice was husky with desire. She never swore in public, but those rules didn’t exist in their bedroom, and apparently, public bathrooms.

With a thrust of his hips, Tyler entered her in one hard shot. Wet and tight, her pussy enveloped him.

She cried out and it echoed in the small room.

Buried inside his mate, he didn’t care if the whole building heard. He pumped, allowing Katrina’s velvet to stroke him. The stall creaked and rattled. He caught her delicate mouth in a kiss, her taste a mixture of need, love, and sake.

Sweat trickled along his face, making his curls stick to his skin. A passion this strong, a love this fierce should tear him apart. In and out, in and out, he thrust until her secret muscles clenched even tighter around him.

“Oh Tyler.” She moaned against his lips.

He brought her this pleasure, his touch that she craved, and his name she used. Nothing could have made him feel more–more male.

Harder and faster, he plunged inside. Panting as if running a marathon, clothes pasted to his sweaty skin, he helped her find her release and milk him of his.

He arched his back when he came.

Katrina rode his climax, her strong limbs wrapped around his body until she slowed, then sagged against his shoulder.

Catching his breath, he leaned his sweat-soaked forehead against the cool wall by Katrina’s head, sandwiching her. “If I win another Rube Goldberg contest, can we do this again?”

She laughed, drawing him in for a chaste kiss. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” It was all he could think to say. Every year Chicago held a small Rube Goldberg contest. He’d competed since high school. Developing over-engineered machines that performed simple tasks, usually involving a chain reaction, summed up his life. Finally winning left him empty. His true contest lay in convincing Katrina to marry him. She was the ultimate prize.

She’d blown his mind when she’d suggested a tryst in the men’s room. A huge step for her to be so open about her sexuality. She’d been so abused by her old pack. He thought he’d never get through those barriers. Then one night, two years ago, she’d knocked on his bedroom door and told him she wouldn’t live in the past anymore.

That he, Tyler McCoy, was her future. Unbelievable, even now.

Setting her down on her feet, he tugged at her hem and fixed her dress. He picked up her torn panties. “I don’t suppose you want these?”

She laughed. “Keep them as a souvenir. Just do not pin them on the bedroom wall like last time.”

Exactly where he wanted to display them. They truly were a perfect match.

“I am going to wash in the ladies’ room.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of the bill.”

She rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’ll meet you outside under the archway.”

It didn’t take long for him to clean and dress–no amount of work could make his red hair look tame–but paying for their dim sum lunch took forever. He stood at the register as Katrina walked by and pinched his ass for good measure before stepping out of the restaurant.