Chapter 6

Russt

Her needy, demanding little tongue tests my control. I slide my fingers into her hair and knead her scalp as I take over the kiss. She groans and tightens her fist in my shirt, pulling the fabric tight across my shoulders and highlighting how cold and wet I am. The only warmth in the room comes from her ass nestled in my lap and the fire roaring in my blood. My drenched pants constrict my pulsing cock. She moans into my mouth and pulls my hair. A warm spot grows on my leg as lava leaks from my tip.

Afraid I might lose myself to rut and actually devour her in my desperation, I pull back and grab her wrists. She fights me, but I extract her hands from my shirt and hair and tuck her forearms against her chest. I growl and grind my teeth, using the pain in my jaw to center myself as her soft breasts and hard nipples brush against my knuckles.

She whines. I close my eyes. She shifts her hips, rubbing her thighs together in my lap. Pleasurable pain spears through my cock. I snap.

Food and half-empty jars clatter to the floor as I use my forearm to clear the table and lay her out like the most scrumptious feast in history. Surprise widens her gorgeous blue eyes, but I'm too hungry to stop.

"There's no turning back now, little mouse. I need to taste you. All of you," I growl as I unwrap her head and legs and spread the towels out underneath her, ensuring she's as comfortable as possible.

I part her knees, wedge my hips between them, and lean down to begin, but when my wet shirt brushes against her front, goosebumps rise on her flesh, and she shivers. I stand, whip the fabric over my head, and toss it aside.

Her strangled gasp pleases me to no end. I release a low rumble and slowly unfasten my belt as I feast my eyes on her tempting curves. An edge of menace enters my purr at the signs of abuse, and I silently vow to replace the horrors lurking in her eyes with moments of pleasure.

I pull my belt free of my belt loops. She stiffens and blindly seeks the edge of the towel to cover herself as her eyes remain glued to the leather in my fist.

I let my belt slip from my grip. The buckle hits the deck with a metallic clank. I frame her face with my hands and land a quick kiss on her forehead to clear the nightmares from her thoughts. Fresh tears shimmer in her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. I brush my thumbs over her cheeks.

"I can't promise to be gentle, little mouse. What I want from you is too raw. Too feral. Too dirty." My voice deepens as I speak. I relish the dilation of her pupils as she shivers in delight. "But I'll never hit you. I need you too much." Her breath hitches and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth. I track the movement with hungry eyes. The edge of the table digs into my swollen cock, preventing me from leaning forward and getting sidetracked. "Understand, Morwenna?"

She twists her fists in the towels and swallows, taking a moment to pull herself together before answering.

"Promise?"

The single word nearly buckles my knees.

I haven't earned her trust, nor do I deserve her forgiveness, but both shine from her gaze and weave clearly within her tone.

"Of course," I promise.

Her brows scrunch.

"You're probably just afraid I'll kill you like I did my father if you hurt me."

The moment the words leave her mouth, she turns green and rolls onto her side. I splay my fingers over her back and support her as she heaves over the side of the table.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that," she says once her gagging settles down.

I pull her up against me, refill the glass with water, tilt the rim to her lips, and regulate her drinking. She shakes from adrenaline, exhaustion, and her building heat, but I feed her some medicinal leaves from the jar on the counter to calm her stomach and freshen her breath. Pride and concern flow through me when she nuzzles my chest.

"He was going to drown me. I thought I was for sure dead."

I brush her hair away from her face and tighten my arm around her.

"I would have made him suffer longer, but I'm glad you defended yourself and took care of him. It wasn't clean, quick, or dignified, so I can't think of a more fitting end for the monster who murdered his omega mate and abused his daughter for over a decade. You did well, Morwenna."

She splays her digits over my chest and brushes her lips over my heart.

The thought of her lying dead at her father's feet fills me with furious desperation. I push her onto her back and pin her to the table by her throat as she writhes through a cramp.

"I still need to taste you. Be still, little mouse,"

She curls her fingers into the towels and watches with nervous, hungry eyes. I rise and unbutton my trousers. She swallows and dips her eyes down my body. I unzip, hook my thumbs under the waistband of my pants and underwear, and push the wet fabric down my legs before kicking them away and shucking off my socks.

Despite her thick pheromones perfuming the air, the wetness coating her inner thighs, the flush on her cheeks, and the flare of interest in her eyes, she pulls the towel around herself and scoots away in fear.

I grab her ankle and yank her to me until her knees part around my hips. She squeaks and abandons the towel to push at my stomach. The feel of her soft, dainty hands on me nearly sends me into rut.

I gather her wrists in one hand and pin them over her head.

"Be still and let me enjoy my feast, little mouse," I snarl before ducking down and licking her collarbone.

She wriggles, searching for an escape, but finds none. I trace up the side of her throat with my tongue and nibble at her ear until she gasps, then dive into her open mouth. She submits with such grace my soul aches.

I will never forgive myself for mistreating her.

When the kiss turns deep and sensual, I pull away and nip her chin before trailing down the other side of her throat.

I continue over her collarbone to her sternum.

"Wait, Russt, I—oh gods, I—"

Her back bows and she emits the sexiest little gasp as I swirl my tongue over and around her nipple before filling my mouth with her breast and laving the hard peak with the flat of my tongue.

Needing more, I move to her other breast and give it the same treatment. She writhes and digs her nails into my knuckles. I shift my grip on her wrists, giving her more wriggle room. She holds onto me as though I'm her lifeline.

She honors me. I don't deserve her.

But fuck if I can hold back another moment.

I pull back until her nipple pops free of my mouth, then lick, nip, and nuzzle my way down her stomach to the juncture of her thighs. At the first taste of her slick, I lose my composure.

Her scream bounces off the walls as I drop to my knees, wrap her legs around my shoulders, and consume every inch of her. I suck each of her labia into my mouth, run the flat of my tongue up her entrance, circle her clit, and reach over her hip to part her folds with my fingers.

Pink, wet, and perfect.

I spear my tongue into her, fill my hand with her breast, and moan. Her frantic fingers tug at my hair. I lap, scoop, and stroke. Tease, suck, and nip. Nibble and coax. Growl and demand.

Her thighs squeeze my head.

I flick the pad of my thumb directly over her clit. She explodes. I seal my mouth over her entrance and consume every drop of fresh slick gushing from her core.

For several long, delicious moments, she orgasms on my tongue. Her legs mash my face harder against her sex. I can't breathe.

I'll die a happy male. Oxygen is overrated. Her slick is so much better.

When she flops against the table and heaves as though she ran a marathon, I smile against her folds and wriggle my thumb against her clithood.

She stiffens and lifts her head to peer down at me.

"I can't, Russt."

I chuckle. She nearly jackknifes off the table.

"You can and you will, little mouse. We've barely begun."

She pushes my forehead and whines, "I don't think I can survive more."

"You'll be begging for more in a few minutes," I promise.

She stops and huffs a watery laugh.

"You're right, I will. I'm finally having my first heat. I waited for you."

She breaks down into heart wrenching sobs. I gather her to my chest, keeping one towel between us so I don't lose control and rut her on the floor, and drop my cheek to the top of her head.

"Wait just a few more minutes, little mouse. You deserve better than the kitchen table, don't you think?"

She leans into me and cries harder.

Something I said triggered her, but there's no appeasing her in this state. Omegas suffering through their first heat are volatile beasts, and my female has been too strong for too long. She needs the outlet.

I stalk from the kitchen and cross the living space to the narrow ladderwell tucked in the corner. With one arm supporting my omega and my other on the handrail, I climb the steep steps and stop in front of the watertight hatch.

"Open the door," I murmur into her hair.

She bites back a sob and wipes her face before she lifts the lever with shaky, hesitant hands. As I push the metal open with my shoulder, she sneaks her palm over my heart and leans closer, but doesn't lay her head down.

I close the first hatch and turn to the second. She glances at the new door and meets my gaze.

"Go ahead, little mouse," I insist.

She breaks the seal and braces her palm on the door. I step over the threshold and enjoy her gasp of surprise as the hatch swings open and reveals an omega wonderland. She stops breathing. Stops blinking. Stops thinking. Just stares in shock.

Guilt dampens my delight, and I know if I'm ever to feel worthy of her trust, I can't lie by omission. I swallow my fear and hug her tighter.

And pray I don't ruin my only chance at happiness with my next words.