He cocked his head to the side. "How many more?"
"How many equal your dick?" I clung to his arm like I was afraid he'd try to pull it away.
He chuckled again but didn't give me a number. His fingers stiffened, and he continued working them in and out of me, dragging against my nerve endings and turning me into an opera singer. He continued that way: fondling and probing my backside, stuffing me to my brim, and stretching my hole open only so he could stuff me to my brim again. I didn't know what number we were up to. He'd told me, but at some point I'd lost the ability to comprehend and could only feel. Then he did something—bent his fingers or hit a different spot—because the next thing I knew, I was coming, my mouth open in a moan as pleasure raced up my spine.
When he moved, gently nudging my legs open to make room for him, I was still riding the high of my orgasm, and my legs flopped apart, knees hitting the mattress on either side of me. Beckett brought his face down, his mouth on mine when his dick pushed into me. I'd been wondering how his cock would feel in relation to his fingers, and now I had my answer. There was no way of doubting what thrust into me now. The pressure increased, despite the time he'd taken to loosen me, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. It hurt, but not enough that I wanted it to stop. I reached for Beckett instead, clinging to his shoulders at the same moment I smelled something new. His dick was in me, I wasn't a virgin, and now I had one more question answered. I was an omega.
His growls filled the room. The wild sound made my inner muscles spasm, and that must have made things feel different because Beckett's growls transformed into a roar. He thrust his hips faster. "Omega," he grunted, the word coming out snarled.
Though the sounds coming from him might have seemed like he'd lost control, I never felt like he did. He was always aware of me, slowing down whenever I let out a sharp hiss and speeding up the moment my hands returned to his shoulders again. His back muscles rippled beneath my fingers. I wished I could watch us having sex while not stopping having sex.
I'd been worried about this? I couldn't see how now that I floated above the world. It wasn't that there'd been no pain in the act. I'd known to expect some pain. But the sensation that ended up blowing me away was the pleasure. Not just from his stiff intruder that claimed more of me with every downward drive of his hips, but it was the fact that he sounded as carried away by it all as I felt. Maybe my true worry hadn't been that losing my virginity would hurt, but that Beckett would be unmoved. That worry flew out the window every time he peppered my jaw with kisses or licked the sweat from my neck.
His thrusts quickened.
I reached down, clutching his ass. My fingers dug into his flesh, and I wondered idly if my touch would leave marks.
Beckett threw his head back in a roar, and just when I thought I knew everything to expect, he changed the angle of his hips, prodding the thick head of his cock into a new spot inside me.
My world went white, floating in a haze of pure bliss until my cock caught up with what was happening and my orgasm exploded through me. Beckett's hands cupped my face, his lips plastered against mine as he drove his dick deep inside me. He held himself there as he roared out his satisfaction before pressing his teeth at the base of my throat.
I panted, mewling, while Beckett's ministrations wrung out every ounce of my pleasure. His forehead pressed to mine again. We shared the same air almost as if, in that moment, we were the same being.
"You are my everything, Shiloh," he whispered.
I could only groan in reply. I felt like I was still floating and was content to lay where I was until the world came to an end. But even through the perfection of the moment, a dark thought nagged the back of my mind. There'd been no knot. I was a confirmed omega now, but no knot meant we weren't mates. We'd never talked about that possibility. I knew that puff adders didn't often find their mates—the theory there was that an inner animal needed scent to identify the other soul they were meant to be with. I didn't need us to be mates, but a part of me had decided I was so happy and things were so perfect, we must have been.
That we weren't was disappointing, but I wouldn't let it ruin all that we had. Everything about this night had been perfect, including the punishment, and I wouldn't waste any time worrying about what couldn't be.
***
The rich, meaty scent of bacon wasn't what I expected to have wake me up. The aroma was the first thing I was aware of before my eyes fluttered open. I was in Beckett's bed, the silk sheets encased around me like a hug. Beckett's pillow was empty. But before I could worry about that fact, I spotted the man sitting on the side of the bed, patiently waiting for me to wake up.
"Breakfast in bed?" I croaked, stretching my arms over my head. He waited for me to be sitting upright before he spread a towel over my lap and set the plate on top of it. There was bacon cooked just how I liked it—nearly burnt—an assortment of fresh cut fruit, and one half of an English muffin spread with butter that was almost all the way melted.
My stomach growled with hunger, but sitting up had reminded me of all that we'd done the night before.
"How do you feel?" Beckett asked, his voice low and intimate. Sometimes it felt like he didn't need to be able to see my emotions on my face because he could read my mind already.
"Good, a little sore. But…" My dick gave a half-hearted pulse. It remembered everything about last night and wanted more, but I thought maybe my cock-eyes were too big for my cock-stomach.
"Food first," Beckett commanded. He got back in bed, sitting upright in his spot before reaching for his towel and plate. His plate looked the same as mine but he didn't dig in. He turned, waiting expectantly.
"Thank you," I said, wondering if that was what he waited for.
"You're welcome, but why aren't you eating?" He reached forward, snagging a piece of bacon. He brought it to my mouth, and I opened. My tongue swiped his fingers, eager to lick up every last bit of flavor. Beckett's chest rumbled, and he grabbed another piece, feeding it to me in the same way.
He fed me fruit next, and I licked down his hand again. The sweet juice coming from the fruit tasted especially refreshing.
When I looked over at Beckett again, his sweats were tented, straining over his erection. I spotted his plate next, untouched. He was too busy feeding me to feed himself.
I enjoyed him feeding me but not at the expense of his own needs. If I kept leaning on him, how much would I lean before it was finally too much? I wanted to be his partner, not his burden.
When he brought the English muffin to my lips, I bit onto it but not through. I touched Beckett's wrist, and he let go, leaving the muffin to hang from my mouth. "I can take over," I said shyly.
Beckett frowned but didn't protest. He did as I'd hoped and turned to his own plate, bringing a slice of bacon to his mouth with a clear pout.
I grinned. So often I was the pouting one. It was a nice change to see Beckett show that he wasn't always so perfect every moment of every day. "Now we're both eating," I chirped. "It's better that way."
Beckett grunted. His sour mood didn't last for long. I didn't think it even lasted until he'd swallowed the bite he'd been chewing. "You were sleeping so soundly. I admit I made breakfast to alleviate my guilt at having to wake you up. The conference is scheduled for the next hour, and I thought you'd want to shower and change before then."