Chapter 315

Daphne

Technically, I came here to comfort her.

I don’t know why I started kissing her, but now I can’t stop.

Her lips are soft and warm and hers, and every part of me that’s been holding back for weeks is screaming for more.

My hands slide into her hair, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss. She makes a sound against my mouth in half gasp, half moan and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

Yeah, I think I came here to do something, but I can’t remember it now.

Something about comfort? About talking? About—

Her fingers curl into my shirt, and every thought evaporates.

I break the kiss just long enough to scoop her up,she gasps, arms wrapping around my neck and I carry her the few steps to the bed.

I kneel on the edge, kissing her deeply, drinking her in. Then I pull back, looking around at the generic hotel room,the beige walls, the cheap art, the thin curtains.

"Are you sure you want to do this here?" I ask.

She looks at me.

Not just looks. Glares.

And then she reaches out, grabs the belt loops of my pants, and yanks me forward until I’m nearly on top of her.

"I don’t care if it’s a sketchy room, a mud house, or a fucking homeless person’s cardboard box," she says, her voice low and fierce.

"You are going to fuck me today."

I blink.

Then I grin.

"Yes, ma’am."

In record time, I get rid of all her clothes. I open her legs.

Wow.

It’s an ocean.

I could literally dive in and go for a swim? Have any of her versions ever been this wet?

[It’s because of the omega biology.]

What the hell! Go away! I mentally scream at it.

"Daphne?" Vivienne asks cautiously, her voice a little shaky.

"I just don’t know where to start," I say, my own voice a low rasp. I take one of her legs, the skin impossibly smooth, and place it on my shoulder.

There’s been this sweet scent for some time now, I wonder what it is. It’s stronger down here, warm and thick, like heated honey and rain.

I place her other leg on my shoulder, opening her completely to me. The scent is intoxicating, a fog in my brain.

From the first slide of my tongue, something is different.

I mean, I’m always home between my lovers’ legs, but this is... this is something else.

It’s sweet, and addictive, a flavor that blooms on my tongue and sings straight down my spine. It’s not just her wetness; it’s this taste.

I think I hear something, a high, thin sound. A whimper? I wonder what it is? It must be her. The thought is distant, unimportant.

I want more.

What is it?

I want more of it.

My tongue flattens, dragging through her folds, and I groan against her. The sound vibrates up her body, and her hips jerk.

That noise again, louder this time.

A moan.

Her moan.

It’s beautiful, but it’s secondary.

The taste, the scent... that’s everything. My focus narrows to a pinpoint. There is only this.

Only her. I’m not exploring anymore; I’m hunting. My tongue circles her clit, and her back arches off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from her throat.

My hands, which were holding her thighs, tighten. My grip is possessive, bruising. I’m holding her in place so I can take what I need.

That scent, that source I want more.

The air is thick with that honey-rain scent, and I’m breathing it in, drinking it down, and it’s not enough.

It will never be enough.

"More," I hear myself snarl, the word guttural and raw.

"I need more."

***

Vivienne

How long has it been?

I can’t bring myself to wipe the drool and tears off my face. My body just keeps spasming and twitching, a live wire with no off switch. Every nerve ending is fried, oversensitive, screaming.

She’s turned into a crazed monster, that only wants to eat me.

She hasn’t listened when I told her stop.

She’s just been there between my legs, like a dog, going on and on and on, her tongue a relentless, hungry force. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

What’s worse is that her pheromones are out of control. They’re a thick, heavy blanket in the room, suffocating and intoxicating all at once.

That scent of pigment I usually find so comforting, the familiar smell of oil and canvas, now makes me feel like I’m drowning in a masterpiece.

I love it.

But that’s beside the point.

If I let this go on, we won’t get to the next part, will we? She’s acting like a teenage alpha around their first omega? That can’t be though, at some point she was a notorious playboy.

I feel her tongue lapping hungrily again, a broad, flat stroke that makes my whole body seize, and I can’t take it anymore. A surge of adrenaline, sharp and cold, cuts through the haze.

I grab her by the hair, with a strength I didn’t know I still had in my body, and yank with all my strength.

She doesn’t budge.

Is she serious?

I yank again, the strands of her hair biting into my knuckles, my forearm screaming with the strain of it. Her tongue doesn’t stop. It just... continues.

My legs tremble violently. She doesn’t budge, taking my struggle as a sign to go deeper, her tongue plunging inside me, and I can’t help the moan that rips from my throat.

She’s not just ignoring me; she’s actively resisting, her grip on my thighs tightening like iron bands.

It feels good, amazing, but this is enough, please.

I yank with the final bout of my strength, pulling her head away and she looks at me. I finally rip her head from my legs and...

...she looks ridiculous.

Her chin is slick and shiny, her lips swollen and parted. A stray, dark curl is plastered to her cheek, and her eyes, usually so sharp and knowing, are wide and hazy.

She blinks slowly, like a kitten who’s indulged in way too much cream, drunk and dazed and utterly confused by the sudden removal of the saucer.

A laugh bubbles up in my chest, sharp and slightly unhinged. It’s hilarious. The notorious, the untouchable alpha, completely wrecked and stupefied by a little taste.