Then, with a determined glint in his eyes, he buried his head lower, descending into the wet heat between the Omega's legs.
"Mmph."
At that precise moment, the Omega lying prone on the bed let out a deep, strangled inhalation that seemed to be dragged forcibly from the very depths of his throat. He had been rendered completely speechless, stripped of the ability to form coherent words by the overwhelming assault on his senses. His fingers clawed desperately at the fabric of the quilt, knuckles turning white as he sought some sort of physical anchor in the storm. His head fell back against the pillow, his tear-filled eyes staring blindly up at the suspended oil lamp on the ceiling, the light blurring into a halo of gold and shadow.
Asher Ryder was devouring him.
