Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

This is why it’s such a goddamn big deal to find your pack’s omega. The sexual tension is so thick in here you could carve it like marble.

The question is—are any of us in here fit to be Michelangelo? Rodin? Raphael? Can we sculpt this into something beautiful? Or is it just a tempting set up for failure?

Daphne, teetering in her bare feet, slick still glistening on the insides of her legs, comes up for air.

Magnus and I watch, ravenously, as she reaches down to spin the bottle on a breathy laugh.

The bottle revolves. I try not to show my disappointment when it lands on Magnus.

He takes a last drag of the spliff he’s been puffing away on throughout the game, preparing to snuff its glowing cherry in the standing hotel style ashtray beside his chair. Daphne stops him though, staying his hand by draping her fingers gently over his wrist—bringing her lips to the carefully rolled paper filter and inhaling.

Magnus watches her with great intensity as she crawls up his reclining form. Sol, Julian, and I hang in the balance, unsure of what will happen next.

Daphne slithers over Magnus, pressing her lips to his, before decanting the smoke from her lungs into his. During the exchange, Magnus’s hands travel from the soft hollow of her throat to somewhere unseen. The pair pull apart from one another as Daphne lets out a small, shuddering gasp—Magnus exhaling her lungful of smoke before bringing his left index and middle fingers, shining with Daphne’s juices, to his lips.

There’s the sound of metal scraping over concrete as all three of us; Sol, Julian, and I, collectively try to keep a hold of ourselves and not fall out of our seats.

I’m pretty sure I’m about to lose my goddamn mind, when Daphne springs up spryly and shuffles her way back toward where she had been sitting before.Though she’s so soaking wet, she refuses to take a seat on the fabric lounge cushion, her legs anxiously shifting as she hovers—visibly uncomfortable.

Magnus makes a big show of sucking every drop of her off of his fingers.

I’m fighting back an actual growl at my packmaster, when he reaches forward and spins the bottle. It lands on Daphne again.

Instead of reaching for her, Magnus reclines once more—that look of the demon about him again.

“I have an idea,” he purrs.

“Cosmo, Daphne—you haven’t kissed yet,” he continues, low and deliberate. The hand he’d just licked Daphne’s juices from, stroking himself through the thin fabric of his pants.

“I’d like to give you a little… Direction.”

My heart thunders in my chest. At the very beginning of this pack—Magnus and I fantasized about moments exactly like this. While we had made considerable progress toward the realization of our darkest dreams and desires—we had done so with Julian, then eventually Sol, we hadn’t yet found our omega. Could this be her? The missing piece to our puzzle?

Her expression glazed and hazy, as if fighting through a veil of intoxication, Daphne bobs a series of floaty, affirmative nods.

My eyes are on Daphne, but my focus is on Magnus and whatever commands he will issue.

“Daphne, lay back on the chaise darling—if that’s alright,” Magnus instructs, his eyes focused so intensely that I can tell he’s framing her like a cinematic shot in his mind.

She looks hesitantly at the pool lounger—her legs sticky with slick, as if she’s about to remind Magnus that she can’t sit without making more of a mess of herself and the cushions.

“The cushions can be washed my dear, don’t fret,” Julian offers helpfully, and Daphne does as she is told.

“Take a deep breath, relax—let your knees fall open slightly,” Magnus directs, Daphne becomes softer in repose, her knees parting to reveal her sodden panties, her thighs sparkling in the sunlight with her own wetness.

“Is it alright if I have Cosmo lay on top of you? To move against you even?” Magnus ventures carefully.

“You can and should say no at anytime you don’t want to?—”

But before Magnus can finish, Daphne interjects.

“It’s more than fine Magnus.” She pants, petrol blue eyes hooded with desire, her arms already outstretched for me.

“Cosmo, I want you to go to her. I want you to be as close as you can possibly get to her without actually being inside her. I want to see both of you skirt the very edge of igniting your passion into full flame,” Magnus gives his poetic guidance, and I am off and out of the starting blocks before I am conscious of my own movements.

In a fluid instant, I am between Daphne’s legs, my right hand under her knee, parting her legs wider to allow me access. My left hand is in her hair, clutching the golden curls at the crown of her head, just tightly enough to tilt it back. I bow my face to hers, catching her full bottom lip gently between my teeth before pulling her in for an open-mouthed kiss. My right hand slides up the back of her thigh to cup one cheek of her round ass, lifting her hips off the couch, grinding my hardness against the sticky wet gusset of her panties.

Daphne moans loudly into my mouth.