Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

Sol moans into my mouth as I grind against him, his hands already at my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress.

As the soundtracking of the movie swells in the background, Sol frees my breasts from the smocked bodice of my dress—his fingers toying gently with my stiff nipples for a moment before he breaks our kiss to close his lips around one.

I let out a little whine, his tongue gently teasing the sensitive shell of pink flesh while his hands rove up my skirts.

Sol’s fingers are at the waistband of my panties when I take him by the shoulders and guide him to lay down along the back seat. He seems a little more than surprised when I make a beeline for the heavy brass buckle of his leather belt—the line of heavy metal rivets on his button fly.

“Daphne, you don’t have to—ungh.” Sol is unable to finish his thought, his sizable, uncut cock springing free from his boxers and slipping between my cherry glossed lips.

“Shit,” Sol moans, his hands collecting my hair, clearing the way so he can watch me.

One of his hands leaves my hair and travels down my spine to my lower back.

“Fuck, I just wanna be inside you right now,” he rumbles, hips lifting on their own accord as Sol’s hand round over my ass and beneath the hem of my dress.

I swirl my tongue around his cock head and Sol lets out another moan.

“Alright, I can’t be the only one having all the fun.” Sol’s fingers find my panties and give them a gentle tug.

I shimmy out of them, keeping Sol in my mouth, my cheeks hollowed with suction.

“It’s a 60 series,” he pants as I continue sucking him.

“Might as well christen ‘er with a 69,” he laughs dryly, helping to guide me with one knee over each of his shoulders, almost the entirety of his upper body disappearing beneath my skirts as I straddle his face. I moan, his hard cock buzzing between my lips as his tongue laps greedily at me.

I pump my hand up and down in time with the motions of my mouth, Sol’s knot begins to swell as I work him almost to the back of my throat.

I’ve seen girls give head to alphas in porn, how they squeeze the knot while taking the shaft as deeply as they can, milking the cum from the hugest of alphas with ease.

In real life, it’s not so easy. I can tell by the way that Sol’s hips buck—from the way that he pants and sighs against my slick pussy—that me squeezing his knot is only making him want to put his hard, thick cock inside me. He wants to stroke me hard and deep until the hard knot fills me—keeping his hot cum inside me.

The thought of Sol knotting me, breeding me, bonding me is nearly enough to send me over the edge.

I squeeze his knot with one hand, the other milking his hard cock—my lips still close around his head.

“Daphne, fuck,” he hisses against me, his legs spasaming as he unexpectedly shoots his load into my mouth. Clean and slightly salty, just like his skin.

My libidinous imagination spins as I wonder what the rest of Pack Silver tastes like.

My muscles ache with tightness, a combination of slick and Sol’s saliva running down my inner thighs. I’m still sucking his softening cock when Sol finally catches his breath.

“Daphne Dale,” he rumbles, using his considerable upper body strength to help negotiate me off of him, so that we’re both sitting upright and facing one another.

“You made me break one of my age-old rules,” he pouts, a grin sparkling in his eyes.

I clear my hair out of my face and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Oh, and what is that–Sol Cooper?” I tease, my skirt still hiked up around my hips.

“Ladies first,” he intones seriously, reaching into the front of the car to adjust the front bench seat as far back as it will go—gesturing for me to climb onto its white leather surface.

At first I can’t imagine why he’s having me do this. I climb into the passenger side of the front seat, my panties still on the floor in the back—still unsure of what Sol’s planning. He takes a moment to re-button his jeans before opening the door and scooting out of the back seat.

Sol opens my car door and manages his athletic frame into the space between the edge of my bench seat and the dashboard.

Aha!

I realize what he’s planning just as he begins helping to guide my feet up onto the polished chrome trim of the dash—my legs spread wide for him.