Page 88 of The Rust in Her Hair

"Do you want him too?" I ask, gentle. "Owen?"

Her face goes scarlet, that pretty flush pouring down her throat and into her chest. She bites her lip and nods, clearly embarrassed to be admitting it.

The beast in me damn near purrs.

She's so shy about the wanting, so unschooled in every part of this, and God help me, it thrills something deep and possessive in my chest.

I get to be the one to show her.

To teach this sweet, sheltered girl every good thing about belonging to a pack, one mind-blowing orgasm at a time.

Excited, I lean down and kiss her.

It’s soft, at first. My mouth on hers, letting her feel how it's meant to go. I cup her cheek in my palm and lower myself down over her, until her breasts give beneath my chest. The heat of her soaks all the way through me as I deepen the kiss, licking into her mouth.

Her lips slowly part, almost like she’s not sure what to do, then I taste her.

Vanilla and almond fill my senses, and I let out a rough moan.

Her tongue moves against mine, clumsy and unsure, too eager one second and too timid the next. It’s the kiss of a girl who has no idea what to do with her mouth. And it undoes me.

I gentle her through it, guiding the rhythm with my own mouth and tongue. She catches on fast, going soft and pliant and letting me lead and take.

When I finally break the kiss, she blinks up at me, dazed, her eyes gone heavy-lidded and her pink lips swollen. Some of the terror has bled out of her. Her body's finally starting to go soft under me, the tension bleeding out of her. Sinking into the bed. Into the moment. Into me.

"See?" My mouth brushes her lips. "There’s nothing to be scared of, Lyra. You're safe. You're mine now, and I've got you."

I shift, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her cheek and jaw.

I make my way down the soft line of her throat. Lower, over the flushed skin of her chest, down the trembling plane of her belly. I press my mouth to each of the three little freckles on her waist, one after another. Not stopping until my mouth hovers over the seam of her pussy.

I take a second and admire the fine dark-blond hair along the top of her slit. She’s so swollen and glistening for me, slick smeared across her folds and down the inside of one plush thigh.

She's soaked.

Absolutely drenched, and I've barely touched her. The vanilla-sweet smell of her is so thick down here it clouds my head, making my mouth water for a taste.

I can't help myself.

I run my tongue up the length of her seam, slow, a flat, broad stroke to collect every drop of her slick. She's even sweeter than she smells, like honey and fucking heaven, and I groan against her delicate skin, already addicted.

Lyra jerks as her head comes up off the pillow. "Wait, what are you⁠—"

I chuckle against her delicate skin as I grip her hips. "Owen." I don't lift my head. "Kiss our omega."

And as Owen leans in to catch her mouth with his, I settle between her thighs, spread her open with my thumbs, and put my tongue on her delicious, virgin pussy.

Spread Open

Lyra

Nico's mouth is on me.

His head is buried between my thighs with his tongue dragging slowly through my slick. It’s so much I don't know what to do with my own body. I fist my hands in the sheets and try to remember how to breathe.

Above me, Owen straightens up off his knees.

"You’re doing so good, Lyra," he whispers as he reaches for his belt buckle.