Annie Nicholas: The Omegas

She scratched his shoulders when her nails bit in his skin. “Oh... That’s...that’s good...”

His cock throbbed with fullness. He positioned himself so he could have her both ways, with his cock and his mouth. He pressed his tip to the entrance of her sex to tease her opening.

She groaned and raised her hips, inviting him in.

He clamped down firmer onto her neck as he began pressing himself into her tight, soaked pussy. The hunger drove him and grew stronger; he became a creature more of sensation than of reason. He drank deeply while pumping harder.

Her incomprehensible cries grew louder, more labored. She clawed at his back, grinding her hips with his rhythm, panting with each deep, hard stroke.

She felt wet and velvety. Her blood tasted sweet and tangy.

He pinned her down so she wouldn’t tear herself on his fangs.

She struggled.

This prey behavior excited him, but he had to be careful to not draw too much blood, not to scare her. The demon housed in his soul wanted to be released. Not this time, never again. Instead, he focused on her hot, wet opening as it convulsed around him.

She squeezed him when her climax crested. His guards out by the gate probably could hear her cries.

He pumped as deep as he could until he came inside of her, then withdrew the bite to roar his own finish.

Sugar rested in Daedalus’s arms on the polar bear rug in front of the fire, thrilled she’d made the right decision in coming here. The move and the house didn’t solve her problems.

Daedalus did.

She loved the expression on his face when she’d walked into the study. Never had she been with any man who made her feel so beautiful, sexy, and safe. Who cared if her best friends were werewolves and her lover a vampire?

She flushed away those hang-ups once she’d been on her own. Danger lurked everywhere, not only from paranormal beings. Humans were violent and unpredictable too. She could isolate herself more but for what? To survive? She wanted to live and to be with the man she loved.

None of her human friends worried about her, sent guards to try and secretly follow her, or wrote her atrocious poetry.

Daedalus whispered in her ear.

“That was a very moving poem.”

“It’s a limerick. I’m a treasure trove of dirty limericks.” He leered at her and wiggled his eyebrows, then leaned in to whisper another.

She giggled. “More.”

He whispered again.

“That’s the best one of all. I love you too.”