Omega Artist: A Hero Club Novel

by Hope Irving

  Why a mere kiss sends jolts of pleasure throughout my horny body is beyond me. Never have I felt this peaceful, lustful, and hopeful at once.

  I heave a satisfied groan at the erotic little noises that she makes as she writhes under my touch. It seems that we’re in sync. I deepen our salacious kiss, and her entire body relaxes while my grip tightens on one of her perfect butt cheeks, and I grind my hips against hers. The friction sends my blood racing.

  Her nipples keep grazing my chest, driving me crazier by the second. Desperately needing more, my other hand glides down her waist to grab her shirt and stroke her skin. To torment. To tease. To taunt.

  Before I realize it, her hand seizes my wrist, and she cringes. “Don’t.” Her snappy command that just broke our kiss throws me for a loop. Within seconds, her body transforms from ready to rigid.

  Confused, I freeze with my eyes fixated on the wrist that she’s clutching, wondering what to do or say next. I offer a sheepish smile as an apology.

  Fuck John Wayne! Note to self: Remind her she actually said that she was sorry during our first chat… What changed?

  The fire in her eyes remains, but there’s resolve in them now.

  Perplexed, I ask, “Hard limit?”

  Still clasping my wrist, she nods, relief evident in her eyes when disappointment must be obvious in mine, even though I do my best to hide it. I want her to be comfortable around me. I would never force her into anything.

  She shivers, then casts her eyes down. It takes a moment for her to look back at me. “I just...”

  Instinctively, I shake my head to let her know that she doesn’t owe me an explanation and release my grasp on her derrière. Our bodies remain flush against the wall. “I don’t have to touch you where you don’t find it pleasurable.” I wish she’d let me rectify my honest mistake, since she didn’t give me any signs prior to this. I wish she’d let me make it up to her to appease my guilt. I wish she’d let me in so that I could recognize the issue.

  “I killed the mood, didn’t I?” Her voice comes out strangled and she’s blinking way too much; I guess she’s holding back tears that I didn’t see coming. I don’t want to lie, so I shrug and swallow the lump that her reaction created in my throat. My disarray must be written all over my face because she feels the need to explain. “You can touch me anywhere else, you know... Anywhere but… there.” Her voice cracks.

  “I can?” My hand finds her cheek and my thumb caresses her skin. A mundane gesture that reminds my cock of the many cravings it hasn’t had a chance to fulfill lately. “But most importantly: do you want me to touch you everywhere but there, Aliénor?” Such a simple question. Such an implied meaning. Such a coveted approval.

  The sound of her full name triggers something inside her, and her widening chocolate eyes instantly brighten with mischief, my apparent faux pas forgotten for the moment. “I want it...” Her tone carries so much need that I let out a pained sigh. I close my eyes as she leads my hand to her exposed throat. My thumb settles there, moving back and forth, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Her next word increases my doubt, and my eyes pop open. “Eventually.”

  I need her full consent. “Eventually as in maybe? Eventually as in later? Eventually as in you aren’t interested—”

  “Relax, Tig.” She winks, playful and the air shifts between us. “What I meant was everywhere but there for now,” she clarifies in a whisper.

  The green light propels me into action, and I yank off her dark blue jeans. Shortly after, her dexterous fingers make quick work of my belt and zipper.

  My pants fall to my ankles, putting my tented underwear on full display, and I swivel my head to choose where and how, since I know when.

  Flashing a shit-eating grin, my arm snakes under her ass to lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist in no time. Her breathing becomes labored as she rubs her core against my erection, eliciting dirty thoughts of what I’m going to do to her once we ditch our undies. Though screwing her against my bedroom wall sounds like fun, that’ll have to wait for round two.

  For the time being, I jut my chin towards the bed and effortlessly carry her to my preferred destination. Since Delia died, I’ve never brought a woman back home. I’ve never let a woman spend the night. I’ve never allowed a woman to share my king-size bed. But, she’s not just any woman; this is Alie we’re talking about.

  My knees meet the mattress, and I gingerly lay her back on top of the comforter; her hands feverishly pull my tee-shirt over my head and send it flying God knows where. I’m about to do the same with hers but when our eyes meet, I get that her chest is a forbidden zone for my touch as well as my sight.

  Despite the obvious disappointment that pinches my foolish heart, I don’t let this deter me from my initial plan. That’s when I notice that her gaze skidding up and down my shirtless chest. Her heart-shaped mouth forms an O at the realization that ink covers more than she saw when we exchanged pics. It canvases most of my upper body and runs inside my black boxer briefs. Her fingers stop just shy of making contact.

  I take her hand in mine, wondering why she seems so distraught all of a sudden. “Here.” I lazily guide her manicured fingers over my skin, tracing the Celtic and Japanese patterns. My breathing grows heavier. “Just so you know, I don’t bite… that is, unless you ask me nicely.”

  She relaxes at that. Her featherlight touches continue after I remove my hand from hers, and I’m relieved that she only stops what started as a group effort to splay her hand over my erratic heart. “You should come with a warning label!”

  I can’t decide whether she’s joking, so I take another route. “Don’t worry, I’ll warn you!” I confirm and wink at my innuendo. “Let me know if this is okay,” I offer while peppering kisses across her shirt in between words. Her answer comes out as a desperate whimper, which pleases my ego. My thumbs hook on either side of her nude undies to get rid of them, the tip of my tongue tickling her bare thighs, as I work my way down her body, and she wiggles and giggles under my ministrations. “Fuck, I want you so bad,” I growl; my hunger for her is so strong.

  She squirms restlessly as my tongue travels north. My knees hit the edge of the bed, again. My eyes are on hers, once more. My lips are on her well-groomed pussy, at last. I reverently kiss my way up to her hip bone and, soon after, put my middle finger to work. She lets out a powerful moan and twists uncontrollably when I insert another finger inside her. “Fuck, Alie…” My voice comes out ragged. “I love how responsive you are.”

  “Faster,” she orders, tightening around my fingers, then pauses and adds, “Please.” I oblige, my heart pounding in my ears. “Give me more.” Her hoarse voice turns her command erotic, and it takes all of my willpower not to come in my boxer briefs like a high school kid.

  I comply. Pushing. Swirling. Pulling… and my thumb joins the party, tending to her lonely clit. “Anything you want, Aliénor.” Her full name rolls off my tongue like honey, but there’s no way I’m pronouncing it right. Watching her so turned-on awakens something new in me. It’s egotistical, for sure, but there’s more to it—a lustful connection that I haven’t felt in years.

  “Fuck, you’re gifted!” she exclaims. “You should definitely come with a warning label!”

  I stifle a sigh, knowing she’s close, but I don’t want to give it to her just yet; our connection has to be complete. “I haven’t wanted anyone this much in a very, very long time.” I close my eyes at the troubling admission, hoping it’ll chase Delia’s ghost away. Relieved that it works, I survey the beautiful woman beneath me and smile, happy that my past didn’t invade my present.

  My lips approach the hem of her shirt, and I halt, awaiting instruction or permission. She bats her thick lashes and rolls her shirt up a few inches. My tongue circles her belly button, marking the authorized path.

  “I want you so bad, I’m not gonna last long.”

  She smirks at my admission. “Aren’t you a sweet talker who can’t keep his word, huh?”

  “Again, baby,
no man wants to be called sweet. Trust me, this won’t be sweet… And you’re wrong. Now, don’t go anywhere!” She giggles at that and frantically nods. “I’ll be right back.” I break our physical connection to grab a strip of condoms from my stash, and smile at the disappointed noise that escapes her mouth at the loss when I amble off to the bathroom.

  From a distance, I rummage through a drawer and hear her say, her deep voice laced with amusement, “How come I’m naked and you’re not?”

  Back in the room, I put my phone on the nightstand, her eyes tracking my every move as I open a foil packet and resume my position. “Let’s remedy that.” My heart skips a beat and I freeze in place the second my eyes land on her. Her middle finger circles her clit while the tip of her tongue suggestively wets her lips. “Oh fuck, woman, don’t let me come before we even start!” I swallow hard.

  “Come and have me!” She wiggles, laughing.

  “Fuck. You. Senseless. Now!” is all I can come up with.

  “Let me take care of that,” she offers, sliding her skillful hand up and down my length as she snatches the condom from me.

  “Be my guest.”

  With my boxer briefs out of the way, she pauses at the sight of my impressive stiffy. Not because I am so well-endowed—well, I am, but I know, without a doubt, why she paused. It’s because there’s something I intentionally didn’t mention: my beautiful piercing.

  Silently, she unrolls the condom, her eyes never leaving mine, and shuffles backward on the bed while I follow her lead and straddle her on all fours. Her chest heaves as she knots her tee-shirt on one side to ensure that it won’t ride up. I admire her well-defined abs as she asks, “It’s called a Prince Albert, isn’t it?” I nod enthusiastically. “What’s the best position to enjoy it?”

  I chuckle at her straight-forward question. “I’ve been told that doggy-style gives the most sensation for the partner.”

  “Doggy it is!” she declares gleefully, jumping into position and twisting to guide my dick into her eager pussy. My hands on her shoulders, I plunge into her without preamble. Maybe I should have been more careful with her. “Damn, that’s… amazing!” Okay, so maybe not.

  “Ohhh… You feel so fucking good around me.” My front is glued to her back, and I inhale her intoxicating scent. Luxury fragrance. Carnal sweat. Horniness personified. “I want more.”

  “Then give me more!” she desperately pleads.

  Who am I to deny her? So, I pull out, almost completely, then do exactly as she demands.

  Before I’m buried to the hilt, she tilts her head to the right and captures my half-mast gaze. She doesn’t break eye contact as I pound into her, deeper and faster each time, and she meets my every thrust, which has my balls tightening in record time. As I prepare to reach for her clit, she shudders around me, and her vocal and impressive orgasm takes over as mine does the same between her expletives.

  My heart thumps at an eerily rapid pace, but I nonetheless revel in the moment. Exhaustion creeps in, and we crash like two rag dolls, with me still inside of her. My muscles are aching. My blood is boiling. My thighs are killing me. Reluctantly, I pull out of her to dispose of the condom and quickly come back to bed.

  Panting, we lie on our backs while catching our breath. Her fingers intertwine with mine. She tilts her head, and we study each other.

  “Fuck, that was phenomenal.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, sweet Alie.” With that, I lean her way to steal a sloppy kiss. She chuckles at that. When I lie on my back again, she traces patterns on the tattoos on my upper body like she did earlier, only this time, her wide eyes express something different.

  Is she obsessed with my ink, or is the new addition, courtesy of Claire, the reason for the amazement on her face? It sure enhanced the sex for me, and I’m guessing it did the same for her.

  A moment later, she wonders aloud, “So… you’ve been told?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You said that you’d been told about doggy style being the best, my prince.” I nod.

  “If you must know, the piercing is a new addition. You’re the first one to experience it.”

  “Stop shitting me.”

  “I’m not. I was anti-piercing for years. Then I realized that I didn’t want to let my fear dictate my life, so I went for a painful one.”

  She drags our hands towards her lower belly, and I roll to my side, elbow bent, with my head resting on my palm, admiring her perfect features.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous, Aliénor.”

  “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, my prince.” She giggles and brings our joined hands to her mouth for a tender kiss. “I never thought I’d say this to anyone, but you’re fucking gorgeous, too… although I repeat, you should come with a warning label… because you’re addictive.”

  “You, too.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shape of My Heart

  Aliénor

  Following a two-hour shopping spree, Eileen and I sprint into the closest place that we can find to rest our legs for a bit. We met after lunch and have been shopping and chatting nonstop ever since. It turns out that she’s had a rollercoaster of a personal life and is currently on ex-husband number three. Thankfully, her marriage debacles haven’t left her bitter, but rather sex-deprived, divorced, and filthy rich.

  I wince when the closing door shoots a gust of bone-chilling air at our backs, but happily smile back at the bulky fifty-something bartender situated behind the small Irish pub’s counter.

  “Welcome, lovelies. You two must be freezing. Come on in!” The guy ushers us with a theatrical gesture.

  Eileen hums Let It Go from the Frozen soundtrack, which makes him chortle. “Perfect!” she exclaims as he escorts us to seats adjacent to a heater. Meanwhile, I hang both of our winter coats on the nearby wooden peg. Exhausted, I collapse into one of the comfy low-rise armchairs that flanks the round wooden table. “My feet are killing me.” From all the walking. From all the back-and-forth inside the stores. From all the standing while waiting for Eileen to try on things with outrageous price tags.

  “I just couldn’t resist those sales!”

  I chuckle at her enthusiasm that hasn’t seemed to have subsided since we parted ways at the airport about a month ago; time definitely flies! I’m in a good mood, so I simply reply, “I know, right!” Her carefree roar of laughter is refreshing. I like her.

  When I first met her on the plane, I was in a different place in my life. Angry at my overbearing father. Angry at my judgmental environment. Angry at my sister’s tattooed obsession. This change of scenery has been incredibly beneficial for my sanity.

  “I had a blast.” Large designer bags are scattered on the floor around us. “I mean, I know I said it earlier, but I’m glad we got to meet up.”

  “Likewise, Alie. I should’ve arranged it sooner, but I got so caught up in other things that I forgot to text you like I promised. It’s a good thing I extended my stay!”

  “Don’t worry about it. I could have reached out, and I didn’t either…” I trail off and pat her forearm.

  “Mmm… I’ve waited long enough. Now spill the beans.” Eileen’s eyes zoom in on mine. “Tell me everything about your man!” Blushing, I gawk at her for a second. “I assume that things progressed, right?” she presses, with her voice high-pitched.

  “Let me go to the bar and order first, okay?”

  She beams approvingly. “I’m pretty sure he’ll be back to take our order, but I’ll allow your diversion for the time being… Then, you’ll give me the scoop on this mysterious young man.”

  I scratch my short hair, shrug, and stroll away. “Deal… and FYI, he’s not that young!” With that, I leave her hanging for a moment before coming back with our beverages of choice.

  “Sooo… you found yourself a sugar daddy, Alie?”

  Her assumption is so preposterous that the first sip of my Kilkenny barely makes it past my lips before I fly into hysterics and risk spitting it all
over her makeup-free face.

  So much for the well-behaved daughter that Father tried to raise!

  In between gulps, I divulge information regarding my relationship—or whatever it is—with an older man. An older man who’s in impressive shape. An older man whose experience with the female anatomy is a blessing. An older man who’s in his thirties. How excited I was when we finally met face-to-face. How intrigued I was by his unexpected gentlemanly ways and sweet manners. How pleased I was to put our undeniable chemistry to the test, even though his ink bothered me. Seeing it in the flesh took my disgust to a whole new level... At first.

  Frighteningly, none of it is a lie. It sends a chill down my back that I blame on the cold, but I know better.

  Eileen leans closer, taking my hand in hers, and implores, “Show me a picture of him!” Her first beer is gone and has been replaced with another thanks to the flirtatious bartender. Until he leaves us, I bury my nose in my drink to avoid observing something that I find both cute and embarrassing.

  “What?” I shake my head no at the silly demand. “I don’t have any! And even if I did…” I wouldn’t want anyone to see a picture of him anyway; he’s nobody’s business but mine. Granted, I’ve been taking notes here and there to document my own sensations. To document his words. To document this fabricated relationship… and inevitably feature the highlights on my blog. But, for now, he has to stay secret.

  “Why not?” She looks genuinely startled. “How come you don’t have any? I thought that people your age were obsessed with selfies and pics! What’s he like then?”

  A gloriously naked Tig flashes in front of my eyes and I blush, casting my eyes downward. I can’t tell her that, lately, Tig and I have mostly focused on screwing. “Let’s put it this way: he’s sexy in the strangest of ways.”

  Her fingers lift my chin. “He sounds like an interesting specimen.” That’s an understatement… “All the more reason to capture a souvenir and send it my way!”