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Wild Omega                      67

    Morgan lined up the head of his cock with Terry’s hole, and he pushed himself inside, taking extra time with it because he wanted it to last.
    Terry breathed through his teeth, but he gave no sign that he wanted Morgan to stop.
    “That’s nice. Keep going,” he said.
    Morgan did, and it nearly killed him how he could only gently thrust his hips, pushing himself inside only another inch before stopping, waiting for Terry’s body to adjust to him.
    Terry’s eyes were squeezed shut, his neck and jaw clenched.  Apparently he’d also been holding his breath because he released it in a hard whoosh when he finally opened his eyes.
    Then his body finally opened to Morgan, and Morgan pushed himself the rest of the way inside, until his balls touched against  Terry’s ass.
    Now, instead of his face clenching up, Terry’s mouth opened in a long, breathy moan, his eyes going wide once more as Morgan touched the other man’s prostate with his cock.
    Terry started humping wildly against him, reminding him of earlier that day when they’d had sex.
    “FuckmeIneedyoutofuckmerightnow ohGod !” Terry said, speaking so quickly that Morgan almost didn’t understand him.
    His body language said enough, and Morgan began thrusting inside of him with all the strength and animal need he had inside him.
    Terry’s hips pushed back against Morgan’s, and his legs became so tight around Morgan’s waist that it made him think of one of those huge snakes from the amazon, choking the life out of prey.
    He didn’t dare stop, even when it got to be hard for him to breathe. “Baby, you’re so tight,” he said, referring to the legs around his waist and that ring of muscle that squeezed his cock.
    Terry gripped him tighter, his hands, his legs, his ass all clenching around him, which made Morgan never want to leave this spot.
    There was nothing he could do for it except shift his hips and

    68                            Marcy Jacks
    pump them harder until Terry was crying out for him.
    Then Morgan felt the teeth against his neck.
    He didn’t dare stop. Not when it felt so fucking good what he was  doing. Really, he shrugged it off anyway. A lot of wolves liked to bite  their lovers during sex, why should Terry be any different?
    Then the teeth broke his skin, and right after Morgan finished  coming, his body going tight as every muscle on his body clenched  through the satisfaction, he passed out.

    Mated to the Wild Omega                      69

    Chapter Eight
    He wasn’t in la-la land for very long. He knew this because the alarm on the nightstand, some glow-in-the-dark take on one of those old bell alarm clocks, didn’t show that much time had passed.
    The only thing worth panicking over was how his bed was empty.
    Morgan shot up, the dried fluids that had glued him to the bedsheets coming apart with a gross kind of crunching noise.
    He had to tell himself not to panic. Nick was still in the house, and if Terry had gone wild again and tried to leave, the other man would’ve been downstairs and would have stopped him before he could get outside.
    It hadn’t yet been two hours, so Nick should still be awake and on watch.
    Morgan brought his hand up to his neck, touching the bite mark.  There was only a little blood, and it was dry. Terry had only bitten out of instinct, not to hurt him, but now he was gone, and Morgan had to find him.
    He shivered. Goddamn it was cold in here.
    He raced downstairs. Nick was sitting in the dark by one of the windows. He turned his head toward the sound of Morgan’s rushing feet on the stairs.
    “Did Terry come down here?”
    Nick got to his feet. “No. Isn’t he up there?”
    Fuck. Morgan ran back upstairs. Maybe his mate had just walked  into the bathroom for a minute and Morgan was being an idiot. He  really hoped that was the case.
    It wasn’t. Morgan no longer cared about conserving