Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

“Slow down, where’s the fire?” I coax him into slowing his pace, my hands taking a more deliberate approach to his considerably more complicated line of metal rivets.

“Easy for you to say—you didn’t have to be face down in that sweet omega cunt and not bury yourself knot deep inside her,” Sol growls—and I’m surprised by the fire in him, the dirty talk is both a seldom and welcome occurrence.

“Alright then,” I drawl huskily.

“A little less conversation, then?” I growl, Sol bares his teeth in a manic grin.

“Though you’d never stop running that trap,” he challenges.

In the blink of an eye, I’ve turned the tables—launching myself from the metal tabletop and taking Sol with me.

We nearly trip over one another as I shepherd him toward the ratty sofa on the far wall; the two of us shimmy-step out of our jeans and boxers as we make headway toward the worn slate blue velour sectional.

I’m still kicking one foot out of a leg of my boxers as Sol tosses one of the throw pillows on the threadbare area rug to spare his knees.

An insult about his ‘delicate constitution’ dies on my lips as he takes my throbbing cock in his mouth.

Since he’s already playing rough, I grab a fistful of his golden waves, close to the crown of his head and push him further down my length, making sure to allow him enough give to escape if I trigger his gag reflex.

I look down, his eyes glare back at me—his tongue running along the underside of my cock inside his mouth.

We stay like this a few moments, me fucking his face—Sol furiously jerking his own hard cock on his knees before me.

I’m dangerously close to cumming when Sol draws back—my cock clearing the ring of his lips with a loud, hollow ‘pop!’

“Cosmo, I need you to fuck me,” he whimpers, hand still fisted around his thick cock, squeezing his swollen knot.

I don’t need to be told twice.

I reach for the side table, pulling a tube of lube from its tiny drawer.

Sol shambles onto the couch and I follow him, kicking the pillow he used to kneel on into the space in front of his seat on the couch

He’s panting—heels dug into the edge of the couch cushion, knees spread wide to allow me access to his tight asshole.

Sol’s so worked up that I barely need to loosen him up with my lubed fingers before I push my own hard cock head into his hot tightness.

“Fuck, yes Cos,” he hisses as I slide deeper inside him. I know he won’t be able to take my knot, just like I wouldn’t be able to take his—but I can help milk his prostate and relieve my own aching hardness for a little while with this diversion.

“Did she cum for you?” I rasp, low and needy—my glutes flexing as I piston my hips, stroking Sol deep inside.

“Yes,” he gasps, pumping his own erection hard and fast with his trembling fist.

“How many times?” I grunt, batting Sol’s hand away—pumping some lube into my open palm before closing my firm grip around him.

Sol can’t immediately manage a response, overwhelmed as he takes me up to my knot—sucking a breath in through his gritted teeth.

“How?” I thrust, Sol moans. “Many?” I squeeze his knot with my lubed hand, I feel him flex around my cock. “Times?” I pull back, my cock threatening to pop free of his tight asshole as he lifts his hips, trying to make me stay inside.

“Twice! Only twice,” he finally whines, lifting his head to watch me—making sure I don’t leave him in this state of desperation.

“I guess that will have to do,” I rasp, adjusting the pace of my thrusts and strokes—allowing both Sol and I to get closer to orgasm.

Sol’s eyes struggle to fix on me through the haze of his pleasure.

“I can’t wait to watch you knot her,” he moans, eyelids fluttering as he approaches the edge.

“I can’t wait to feel you inside her with me,” he gasps, eyes pinching shut as he cries out; my hand squeezes his knot as he shoots his cum onto his own chiseled abs.