Omega

by Jasinda Wilder

  Contents

  OMEGA

  COPYRIGHT

  Part One: Kyrie

  1: AT THE END OF THE WORLD

  2: DISCUSSIONS

  3: FAREWELL, MANHATTAN

  4: THE SYSTEM

  5: LAYLA, THE NOPE-FISH

  6: THE DRESSMAKER AND THE GUARDIAN ANGEL

  7: PERIMETER BREACH; THE BONFIRE

  8: LIGHTNING STRIKE

  Part Two: Layla

  9: KIDNAPPING IS FUN

  10: SAO PAULO

  11: ROAD TRIP

  12: LOST AND FOUND

  13: FUCKED

  14: DRAW IT OUT

  15: SAY IT

  16: AIN'T OUT OF THE WOODS YET

  17: "I LOVE YOU," FINALLY

  18: THROUGH-AND-THROUGH

  19: WORTH IT

  EPILOGUE

  PLAYLIST

  ALSO BY

  OMEGA

  By

  Jasinda Wilder

  Copyright (c) 2015 by Jasinda Wilder

  OMEGA

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art by Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations. Cover art copyright (c) 2014 Sarah Hansen.

  Part One:

  Kyrie

  1

  AT THE END OF THE WORLD

  "So where the hell are we again?" Layla asked, standing on her tiptoes, leaning rather precariously over the bow of the Eliza, a monster luxury yacht, registered in the Bahamas, belonging to both Valentine Roth and me. "I lost track two months ago."

  "Ushuaia," Harris answered, gruff and brusque, but with a trace of amusement most people wouldn't be able to detect unless they knew him well. "It's the capital city of Tierra del Fuego. Also known as The End of the World."

  "And why are we here again?" Layla asked. The couple of extra inches she had gained weren't doing much to let her see the approaching city more clearly.

  Really, if she wanted to get a good look she should go up on the bridge.

  I reclined in a teak deck chair, a floppy, wide-brimmed hat shielding my eyes from the sun, a glass of red wine in one hand, tugging my cardigan closed with the other. The temperature was pretty cool here at the end the world, not quite fifty degrees Fahrenheit, and it was the middle of May.

  "Because it's somewhere to be," I answered for Harris. "And because it's extremely remote."

  Layla turned to me with a frown. "Remote? Bitch, we're almost in fucking Antarctica. Have you seen those icebergs?"

  I just shrugged and smiled. Layla was being Layla, but it was so great to finally have her with me again. "Roth mentioned that we might take a cruise down there to get a good look at them. Tomorrow, actually. I guess they have them all the time. It's like a tourist industry down here or something."

  Harris snorted. "We would hire a private tour, obviously."

  Layla rolled her eyes. "Obviously." She crossed the deck to sit at the foot of my chair, snatching my wine from me. "For real, though, I'm developing a serious case of cabin fever. As much as I love being here with you, eight fucking weeks is a long time for me to be stuck anywhere. I need off this damn boat. Nice as it is, and as much as I love you, babe, I need the real ground under my feet. I need to get naked-wasted with total strangers and pretend I'm not at the End of the World, doing dick-all with my life."

  Harris let out a sigh, and we exchanged amused glances behind Layla's back. "Layla...only you would complain about being on a world tour, on a super-yacht, every need seen too, every desire met," I said.

  "I'm not complaining. Much. I just...I've worked my whole life, Key. Since I was fourteen, I've worked six and seven days a week, two or three jobs at a time. Suddenly being unemployed...it doesn't sit well. I'm going crazy."

  "It does take some getting used to," I admitted.

  "Plus..." she leaned close to me, whispering. "I'm horny as all hell. Little Miss Middle Finger isn't cutting it anymore. Harris got me out of the States so fast I didn't have time to pack my dildo collection."

  I let my head fall back against the chair and laughed. "Jesus, Layla. Way too much information." I glanced at Harris, who was scanning the approaching bay with a pair of high-powered binoculars, and lowered my voice. "What about our boy Harris over there?"

  Layla didn't even look at him. "Um. No. No thanks. I'm not that desperate."

  "Just no? That's it?"

  She stood up abruptly. "I'm cold. I need a sweater." She hustled past me and retreated off the Lido deck into the superstructure of our home away from home, a steward holding the door for her as she swept past him without so much as a glance.

  When she was gone, Harris glanced at me. "You know I have excellent hearing, right, Kyrie?"

  I shrugged innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  He narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing. "Matchmaker is not a role that suits you." He stuffed the binoculars back into their protective case and vanished inside as well, leaving me alone.

  I closed my eyes, absorbing the sunlight and wishing it was at least a little warmer. We'd been making our way across the Atlantic for some time now, and the temperature hadn't risen above fifty in all that time. We were well into the Southern Hemisphere and with the ever-present wind, I was always cold.

  Even with my eyes closed, I could feel Roth approaching. He was as silent as ever, moving his huge form on cat-like feet, but I felt him nonetheless.

  He didn't say a word, just slid an arm under my legs, another around my back, and lifted me, sitting down on my chair, and settling me on his lap.

  "Where are the others?" he asked.

  I shrugged. "I dunno. They went inside after I made an innocent suggestion. They both vanished on me."

  "What suggestion?"

  "Layla was complaining about the lack of opportunity for...certain activities."

  "She's horny, you mean?"

  "Exactly. I merely pointed out that Harris was a possibility, and she just...shut down. Walked away. And apparently Harris overheard me and didn't think much of the idea either."

  Roth laughed. "Harris is...extremely private."

  "What does that mean?"

  He lifted his shoulder. "Just that he keeps his personal life private. He plays things very close to the vest."

  "But he's not, like, married or anything?"

  This earned me another laugh, this one sarcastic. "God no, babe. I don't think that's his style."

  "What, marriage?"

  "No, monogamy. Commitment. Long-term relationships with women. That kind of thing." Roth ran his huge hand through my hair, stroking my still-short hair with a special kind of tenderness. "I've always assumed he just...gets what he needs when he needs it, wherever he happens to be."

  "But you don't know?"

  "For sure? No. I mean, he's never introduced me to anyone. But when we make landfall, or when we're restocking in some city or other, he'll come back after a few hours away in a better mood. What he does and with whom, I know nothing about. Besides, it's not my business." He paused. "Anyway, as far as Layla is concerned, Harris would view her as a client, essentially, and he has very strict rules about fraternizing with clients. Rules that come from experience, I would think, but that's just a guess."

  "Well, I meant it as more of a joke than a serious suggestion. But I guess I misjudged both of them--neither of them seem to have much of a sense of humor." I looked up at him. "So. What are our plans?" />
  There was a long pause before he replied, which I knew meant only one thing--he was assessing how much to tell me. Roth doesn't tell me everything, and I like it that way. I like letting him handle things. After recently becoming involved, unwittingly, in some seriously dangerous and scary things--almost losing my life in the process--I am only too happy to concentrate on the more mundane aspects of his business. When it comes to where we're going, and why, and when, I leave that to him. I enjoy seeing the world, spending all day, every day with him. I don't need every detail.

  "We'll be heading back up to the States after a few more days down here. I've got some things that do actually require my physical presence."

  I couldn't help wondering if those things included a wedding, but I didn't ask. We were technically engaged, but we hadn't discussed actual marriage plans.

  It would happen. When Roth was ready.

  Yes, I admit I had my head in the clouds, and I was happy living in the protective little bubble around me. I liked pretending everything was fine, that we weren't running from anyone, that we were just idle rich people roaming the world just for the fun of it.

  But I knew the reality of our situation was almost too macabre and frightening to think about. I'd only recently stopped having nightmares, after all.

  "I can feel you thinking." His voice was a buzzing rumble in my ear.

  I didn't even shrug. I just rested my cheek against his chest and nuzzled closer. Inhaling his scent, I said, "It's nothing."

  "Liar."

  "Okay. Then let me ask you...how long are we going to run, Valentine?"

  "I can't take him on directly, Kyrie. I just...don't have the resources. Yet. The short answer is I don't know. Okay? And that's the truthful answer. I just don't know." He looked me in the eyes and added, "I know this isn't the life you had in mind, and I'm sorry--"

  I cut him off, fingers to his lips. "You're taking care of me, and Layla. I get that. I do. And I love you for it. I just...I don't know, Valentine. I don't know what I'm trying to say."

  "You want something approaching normalcy. I'm working on it, okay? I can tell you that much. All right?"

  "All right."

  "I'm working on creating a new normal for both of us, I think you could say. Streamlining, downsizing, looking into new business ventures that we can pursue from wherever we are." He laughed. "It may not be normal, but it's normal for us. That's what I'm working on."

  "I'm guessing normal for us won't include a two-story Colonial in the suburbs? A Corgi, two kids, and a minivan?"

  Roth laughed heartily. "A minivan? Me in a minivan? Dream on, love."

  "But the Colonial and the Corgi and the kids are fine?"

  "Corgis are okay. Not sure about the Colonial, though. I'm thinking I can maybe do a bit better than a two-story house, for one thing."

  I noticed he was leaving something out, and I didn't push it. Now I didn't know why I even started this conversation. "Yeah, you're right. A mansion in the Hamptons is more our style, I think."

  "The Hamptons? I think not, sweetheart. Too cliche, too overpopulated. Something down in the Caribbean, maybe. I've already got a property there and there are still a few islands for sale up there. They could be purchased quite easily. How does that sound?"

  I laughed. "There's my Valentine. You don't do anything small, do you?"

  "Never. Besides, do you know how impossible it would be to provide proper security for one of those shacks in the Hamptons? It would be very difficult. 'Logistically impossible', I think Harris would say. An island can be protected much more easily. And, besides, if we've got an entire island to ourselves, I can make you scream as loud as you want without disturbing neighbors." He said this last part sotto voce, in my ear, fingers skating down my ribs to then trace up and down my thigh.

  "We wouldn't want to disturb neighbors, would we?"

  "Keeping you quiet these last few months has been...an entertaining challenge. Let me just put it this way. I'm ready for some privacy."

  "I've been quiet!" I protested.

  "Ha. If my hand is over your mouth, maybe. Perhaps I should look into getting a ball-gag for you."

  I twisted so I could glare up at him. "You wouldn't dare."

  "I would. Absolutely I would. You'd enjoy it, too, I think. Some fuzzy handcuffs, a gag, and I could play with you for hours and Layla and Harris would never know."

  "You like it when I scream, and you know it." I was getting hot and wet from this turn in the conversation.

  "I do. But your screams are just for me." And then, just like that, the fly of my jeans was open and his fingers delved under the elastic of my panties and he was searching, flicking, swiping, finding my slit and spearing his middle finger into me. "You're soaked for me, Kyrie."

  "Trying to make me scream, right here on the deck?"

  "Uh-huh. Is it working?" He adjusted me, and now my mouth was crushed to his.

  "Nope. Not yet."

  He had two fingers in me now. I writhed helplessly as he scissored his fingers inside, and then whimpered in the back of my throat as he pressed a big rough thumb to my clit. Circle, circle. And then he slid his fingers out and smeared my wetness over my clit, his thumb resuming its lazy circles, and I was a mess, biting my lip, my forehead pressed against his, my chest heaving.

  And then, abruptly, he stood up, depositing me on my feet. Buttoning my jeans, he gave me a twist and sent me stumbling toward the stairs leading to our quarters. "Go get naked, my love. Wait for me. I'll only be a moment."

  My thighs rubbed together as I made my way to our bedroom, the buzz of my jeans brushing together sending delicious vibrations through my core. I was on the edge, mere moments from coming. Frustrated, I hurried up the stairs as fast as I could. I stripped in record time, peeling off my sweater and shirt, unfastening my bra, tossing the clothes aside, and then hopping out of my jeans. I still couldn't put all my weight on my knee for very long, but that wouldn't stop me from stretching out on the bed in my panties.

  He'd said naked, but it's fun to disobey him.

  True to his word, I heard him on the stairs a minute later. He already had his black T-shirt off, balling it in his fist and tossing it aside, then stepping out of his khakis as he made the top step. He crossed the room in just his underwear, tight black Polo briefs that outlined his huge cock and cupped his buttocks.

  "I said naked, babe."

  "You aren't," I pointed out.

  He peeled his underwear off and stalked over to me, then got on the bed and crawled toward me on his hands and knees. "I am now, but you're still not naked."

  "What are you going to do about it, Valentine?"

  He grabbed my ankles and hauled me over to him. I let him pull me so my thighs spread around his trim waist, and then I hooked my ankles behind his back, reaching for him at the same time. But instead of taking my hands in his like I'd thought he would, he gripped both of my wrists in one hand, using the other at my hip to roll me onto my stomach. One hand still gripping my wrists in an implacable but gentle hold, he lifted me by the stomach until my knees were under me and my ass was in the air, presented to him.

  He tugged my underwear down around my thighs, but left them there.

  Suddenly, I couldn't breathe.

  His hand smoothed over my left ass cheek, and then my right.

  SMACK! His hand cracked against my buttock, stinging it, causing it to tremble, and I fought to keep from flinching or crying out. SMACK! The right side now.

  Oh god.

  Oh god.

  I felt him reach past me and pull open a drawer on the bedside table. Then I watched as he produced a condom. He ripped it open, and sheathed himself with the rubber. Reaching into the drawer a second time, he found what he wanted: a bottle of lube and a thick pink vibrator. He tossed both onto the bed.

  "Kyrie?"

  "Yes, Roth?"

  "Tell me what you want."

  I swallowed hard. "You."

  "Me, how?"

  "Your cock."<
br />
  I felt his hand smoothing over my ass, caressing the globes, and then his finger was pressing against me, back there, pressing. I gasped as he slid a finger into me. I didn't fight it, but relaxed and let it in. I swallowed a moan as he withdrew his finger and added a second. And then a third.

  He'd been working me up to this for months now. Teasing me with it. Telling me how good it would feel, how hard I would come. But, so far, all he'd done was use his fingers, stretching me, getting me used to the feeling. Using the vibrator a few times.

  I wanted it.

  God, did I want it. So bad.

  He applied some lubricant and put his fingers into me back there, then filled my pussy with his cock, and we moved together--the world stopped when I came, hard and fast, immediate, powerful, a breaking wave of orgasmic bliss.

  He teased me with the tip of his cock, smearing the broad head of it against my clit, and then pushed it into my pussy again, stretching me, and I couldn't help but moan, loudly.

  "Shush, baby. Keep quiet."

  "Can't...help it."

  "You didn't answer me, Kyrie." He plunged deep into me, seating himself into me to the hilt, filling me until I gasped at the fullness. His fingers were knuckle deep into me too, so deep. "Where do you want my cock?"

  I lifted my ass, writhing against his fingers. "Here."

  "Say it, babe."

  "In my ass."

  "Tell me what you want, love. Let me hear it."

  "Fuck me in the ass," I whispered.

  He groaned, this time, driving deep in my pussy and I came, hard and quiet, going tense, mouth open and trembling.

  In the moment of my orgasm, he pulled out of my slit and withdrew his fingers from my ass. Then he squirted more lube onto himself and onto me, and then fit the tip of his cock to the opening of my asshole, pushing gently, gradually piercing me in fractional increments. "Like this, love? Is this what you want?"

  "More." It was all I could say.

  A nudge, and the round head of him was inside me, stretching me, a fiery burn. An ache. But I was coming, and that trumped the sting of pain. Roth put his fingers to my clit and circled, and I groaned as the orgasm fluttered and extended, and then his other palm cracked hard against my ass, and I cried out, the sting startling me. Another. And another. Hard enough that I cried out into the mattress, but then...then I realized he was in me deeper than ever. So deep.