Untouched Omega (Alpha Elite Series Book 4) by V.T. Bonds (books you have to read .TXT) 📕

“Will you help me build my first nest?”

His rumble of mirth scares me for a moment, my heart wanting to shrivel at the thought of rejection.

“Love, I will be right here, unless you demand I move out of your way. I have a feeling if I were to come between you and your first nest, you’d gut me, just like you would if I came between you and your babes. Quit stalling. You’ve got this.”

He thinks I’m delaying making my first nest? I reveal to him an important moment, and he chuckles at me?

His rumble turns more serious, yet the heaviness of command does not enter it.

“Build your nest, Omega. Make me a proper place to fuck you.”

Delicious tendrils of warmth slide along my nerves, so unlike the consuming fire of my heat it makes me smile.

This feels right, even if his words are crude.

Although, I suspect his crass language doesn’t end in the bedroom.

Realizing he has a point—I most likely am making excuses to put off starting the intimidating task of building my first nest—I purr as slick gathers along my folds.

“As you wish, Alpha. Fair warning, though, do not expect such obedience beyond now.”

His chin leaves my hand as he jerks his head back, the most beautiful and masculine laugh bouncing off the walls and hypnotizing my soul.

The column of his throat above me sends more heat into my veins. His enticing flesh slopes into broad shoulders, my bite mark oozing amongst his otherwise unmarred skin.

That’s not true. He has faint scarring in random places and a dark design tattooed over his heart. I can’t help but trace the most obvious scar on his clavicle.

I saw his early years as clear as day, yet the time after joining the military seems shrouded.

These scars and marking are from those years. I sense he’s covering them not to hide, but to protect me.

Fatigue makes me grateful. I feel stretched too thin, unable to handle much more with the threat of another wave of heat looming over me. I’ve cried more today than I have my entire life. As beautiful as his intrusion into my soul was, it was also emotionally taxing.

It was prudent of him to protect me so, even if a portion of me hates any separation between us.

“You’re perfection. Move, Anastasia,” he says, the ring of hazel surrounding his pupils urging me to build my nest.

With reluctance, I take my hand off him and turn to the mound of fabric. Uncertain how to begin, I lift the top blanket and inspect it.

Thick, furry, and incredibly soft, I decide it must be the foundation on which we lay.

Deciding to put my worries aside, I turn off my thoughts and let my instincts take over.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jumoke

My brain must be stuck on repeat. I know I’ve thought this before, but the truth in the words remains so pure I feel the need to think them again.

She is perfection.

The voluptuous curve of her ass makes me want to shove her face down into the blankets and fill her with my cum again.

Her body carries the story of her life. The wide set of her hips makes me long to plant a child in her womb. The long darkened lines on her thighs and stomach causes an ache in my heart. I want to see her with a round belly, full of the most precious gift an Omega can bestow on her Alpha.

Fuck, mere hours ago I would rather have denied her presence than be saddled with a lifemate.

Now all I want is her happiness.

I want her future.

Yes, I even want her to carry my offspring.

Not to erase her past. Never to make her forget her cherished losses.

New life will not heal the wounds in her soul.

No, I want her to ripen with my babes because I’m selfish.

She moves a few pieces of material, but halts as though she’s hit an unseen barrier.

Her scent hits me, yanking me forward with its potency.

She no longer has the reserves to suffer with dignity. A wail bursts from her chest as slick pours from her pussy.

Fear hammers my heart as the bruise on her shoulder grows before my eyes, her arms splaying out in the blankets as she thrusts her hips up in the air.

Part instincts, part alarm force my hands to her seeking hips, the tip of my cock sliding into her wet heat. Her miserable wail grows louder, and I grit my teeth before thrusting forward.

I hate seeing her in pain. I find completion as quickly as possible, which is pretty damn quick since her swollen tissues grip me so divinely.

Pressure shoots from my lower back and travels down my shaft, the wave of fluid moving with such force I fear I’ve injured my insides.

It’s nothing in comparison to her predicament.

My knot swells so fast I don’t have time to properly seat it before it inflates, ballooning just inside her entrance. Her scream rips out my heart, but I can’t resist cramming myself in deeper, seeking the relief of sitting behind her pelvic bone instead of in her narrow channel.

She goes silent under me, the clamping of her pussy around me taking over my world. When the torrential flow of jizz stops pouring from deep within me, I realize she isn’t experiencing pleasure.

This isn’t an orgasm, not as I know them.

She isn’t breathing, isn’t enjoying the ebb and flow of contractions.

Her entire body has seized, just like in the shower. I scramble into motion, grabbing her nape and squeezing while using my other hand to find her clit and pinching in the rhythmic way an orgasm should flow.

When she still doesn’t respond, I lean forward and sink my teeth into her uninjured shoulder, continuing my other ministrations.

Her gasp releases the worst of my worry, the fear of losing her to an unmanageable heat dissipating as I bask in her flavor.

After her body settles into the rhythm of my fingers, she times her inhales with the ebbs and her exhales