[BL] The CEO's Forbidden Omega

The kiss didn’t stay testing for long.

Charles’ mouth claimed mine with deliberate force, firm and unyielding. His hand stayed anchored at my jaw while the other slid down to grip my waist, pulling me flush against him until no space remained.

Heat exploded through my chest and pooled lower, thick and insistent. My fingers twisted tighter into his shirt, anchoring myself as my knees threatened to buckle.

His scent crashed over me—dark spice, warm cedar, and something sharper that made my head spin. It sank into my lungs with every ragged breath, triggering a fresh wave of slick between my thighs.

My body responded instantly, opening, aching, betraying every careful layer of control I had built.

I didn’t pull away.

Instead, I pressed forward, meeting his tongue when it swept into my mouth. A low sound escaped him, almost a growl, vibrating against my lips. The sound sent another jolt straight to my core. My free hand rose to clutch his shoulder, nails digging through fabric as I chased the overwhelming sensation.

Charles walked me backward until my lower back met the edge of the desk. Papers scattered. Neither of us cared. His thigh pushed between mine, pressing up with just enough pressure to make me gasp into his mouth. The friction against my hardening length drew a broken sound from my throat I barely recognized as my own.

He broke the kiss just enough to drag his lips along my jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath my ear. "You’re already wet," he murmured, voice rough. His hand slipped under my shirt, palm hot against my bare stomach. "I can smell it."

A violent shiver ran through me. Shame and raw need twisted together. I should have been mortified. Instead, I arched into his touch, silently begging for more.

Charles pulled back slightly, just far enough that our foreheads nearly touched. His eyes, dark and intense, searched mine. His breathing was as unsteady as mine. For one suspended moment, his thumb brushed over my swollen lower lip.

"Tell me to stop," he said, the words low and deliberate. "Say it now, Eric."

My heart hammered wildly. This was the moment. The last exit.

The final chance to preserve the careful distance I had maintained for years.

I didn’t take it.

Instead, I slid my hand up to the back of his neck and pulled him back down into another kiss, harder this time. Hungrier. My answer.

That was all he needed.

His restraint snapped.

Charles lifted me onto the desk with ease, sweeping remaining documents aside. My legs parted instinctively as he stepped between them.

His mouth returned to mine, devouring, while his hands worked fast—yanking my shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor.

Cool air hit my heated skin, followed immediately by his palms exploring every newly exposed inch.

He kissed down my throat, sucking at the spot where my pulse thundered. When his teeth scraped there, my hips jerked forward.

Slick continued to soak through my trousers, the scent of my arousal now thick in the air between us.

"Fuck," he breathed against my collarbone. It was the most undone I had ever heard him sound.

He dropped to his knees.

I barely had time to register it before he dragged my trousers and underwear down in one rough motion. My cock sprang free, flushed and leaking. Charles didn’t hesitate. He took me into his mouth in one smooth glide, hot and wet and perfect.

A choked moan tore from my lips. My hand flew to his hair, gripping tight as pleasure spiked through me.

He worked me with devastating skill—tongue swirling, throat relaxing, one hand stroking what his mouth couldn’t take.

The other pressed two fingers behind my balls, right against my slick entrance, teasing without pushing inside yet.

The dual sensation was too much. My thighs trembled. My breathing came in short, desperate pants. Every stroke of his tongue pulled me closer to the edge while his fingers circled my entrance, spreading the wetness that kept flowing.

I looked down. The sight of Charles Damien on his knees, mouth full of me, eyes locked upward watching every reaction, nearly sent me over right then.

"Charles—" I gasped.

He hummed around me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine. His fingers finally pushed inside—two at once, stretching me open. The burn was sharp, delicious.

My head fell back as he curled them, finding that spot that made white light burst behind my eyes.

Pleasure built fast and brutal. My hips rocked helplessly between his mouth and fingers. I was close, dangerously close, when he suddenly pulled off with an obscene sound.

I whimpered at the loss.

Charles rose to his feet, eyes blazing. He made quick work of his own belt and zipper, freeing his cock.

It was thick, flushed dark, already glistening at the tip.

The sheer size and scent of him made fresh slick gush from me.

He gripped my hips and pulled me to the very edge of the desk. "Look at me," he ordered.

I did.

Our eyes locked as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against my entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching me wide. The fullness was overwhelming.

I clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in as I struggled to adjust.

When he bottomed out, buried to the hilt, we both groaned.

For a few heartbeats, he stayed still, letting me feel every pulse of him inside me. Then he began to move—deep, powerful strokes that rocked the heavy desk. Each thrust dragged against that sensitive spot inside, sending sparks through my entire body.

My moans grew louder, uncontrolled. I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, urging him deeper. Harder.

Charles’ hand wrapped around my neglected cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

His other hand braced on the desk beside my head as he leaned over me, mouth claiming mine again in messy, desperate kisses.

The coil in my belly tightened unbearably.

"I’m—" I tried to warn him.

"Come," he growled against my lips. "Let me feel it."

The command pushed me over.

Pleasure crashed through me like a breaking wave. I came hard, spilling over his fist and across my own stomach in thick pulses.

My walls clenched rhythmically around him, pulling him impossibly deeper.

Charles cursed, hips stuttering. He thrust through my orgasm, chasing his own release.

A few more powerful strokes and he buried himself deep, body going rigid as he came inside me with a low, guttural sound.

Heat flooded me in heavy spurts.

For long moments, the only sound in the study was our ragged breathing.

Charles stayed buried inside me, forehead pressed to mine. Neither of us moved to separate.

His hand stroked slowly up my side, almost soothing, though his grip on my hip remained possessive.

The reality of what we had just done began filtering back in.

My revenge. My father. Years of planning.

All of it now tangled with the feeling of Charles still inside me, his scent covering every inch of my skin, his come slowly leaking out around him.

This changed everything.

I had crossed a line I could never uncross.

Charles finally pulled out carefully. He reached for something on the desk—his handkerchief—and cleaned me with surprising gentleness before tucking himself away. His eyes never left my face, watching, assessing, as if trying to read how far I had truly fallen.

I sat up slowly, legs still shaky. My shirt hung open. My trousers were bunched around one ankle. I looked thoroughly wrecked.

And yet, when he stepped between my legs again and tilted my chin up with two fingers, I didn’t resist.

His voice was low, quiet. "This isn’t over."

I searched his eyes. The power balance between us had shifted, but not in any clean way. Neither of us held full control anymore.

"No," I whispered. "It isn’t."

The words tasted dangerous. Because even as my body still hummed with satisfaction, the original goal burned somewhere deep beneath the haze.

I had come here to destroy him.

Now I wasn’t sure I could do it without destroying myself in the process.