When an Omega Snaps Read Online Free

bartenders who could make a mean drink for those who liked more than just a beer or wine.
    Did it surprise him to note Meena was the center of attention, downing a large cocktail without taking a breath? Such a useful skill to have when swallowing.
    Bad kitty.
    When she finished her impressive chug, she deposited the glass on the bar and licked her lips.
    Moist. Succulent. Lips.
    Mmm.
    He meant to turn away, but as if sensing his interest, she turned her head and caught his stare. Winked. She also smirked.
    Uh-oh. He knew that look. It spelled run.
    Alas, he proved too slow.
    Bracing her hands on the bar, Meena hoisted herself and stood on the polished surface. She still wore those ridiculously short shorts. Given her position atop the bar, now every man in the place could see how her outfit molded her hourglass curves.
    It brought a growl and rising hackles to his inner feline. If only he had a long coat to cover her up. An odd thought given many of the lionesses wore the same outfit or worse and he didn’t give a damn.
    “Who’s going to do some shots with me?”
    Hands shot up along with too many voices yelling, “Me!”
    Meena beamed. “Awesome. Bartender. A round of tequila for me and my friends.”
    Tequila never appeared sexier than in that moment because of Miss-Determined-To-Vex-Him.
    First, she licked the salt she sprinkled on her hand. Her lithe, pink tongue traced the salty crystals, slowly, languorously.
    Would she take that kind of time with naked skin?
    Focus. Focus !
    He didn’t avert his gaze in time. With her head tossed back, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her spine to tickle the top of her ass, Meena sucked the tequila from the glass.
    I wonder if she likes her hair tugged. Especially if he took her from behind, the soft lushness of her buttocks welcoming his thrusts.
    Leo couldn’t help but groan.
    As for her, she laughed as she took the lemon wedge in her mouth and chomped. Her face contorted, and her lips pursed after she spat the yellow chunk out. “Argh! Woo!” Fist pump.
    Utterly insane. Kind of like the rest of the lionesses he knew.
    A sane man would escape now. A wise man would run.
    But he couldn’t leave.
    As pride omega, it behooved him to ensure things didn’t get too out of hand. He wouldn’t step in and stop the drinking—that would involve way too much pissing and moaning about him ruining their fun. Then there was the whole annoyance that, when he used his voice of reason on drunken pride ladies, they tended to start calling him big daddy—and presented their bottoms with offers to spank them.
    Despite the fact that he might have to drag a few ladies home when alcohol skewed their sense of direction, he’d let the lionesses drink their faces off and then lecture them later on the behavior befitting a young lady. They wouldn’t listen, would probably actually laugh, but he’d try. Because that was what omegas did. They provided guidance—and the nagging voice that said “I told you so.”
    In Meena’s case, though, I don’t think a verbal lashing will do the trick.
    Depended on which part he lashed with his tongue. Too easily could he picture himself between her creamy thighs.
    Bad. So bad.
    Yummy. So yummy.
    He should focus on the speech he’d give the wild lionesses. Or he could skip the useless yapping and put them over his knee like they kept asking. More like put Meena over his knee. Present for punishment those barely covered cheeks in those indecent shorts. Smack his hand on the rounded contour. Lean in to—
    “Another round, bartender. B52’s this time.”
    This wouldn’t be good.
    Now it should be noted, while shapeshifters had heightened metabolisms and could process alcohol quicker than humans, it still had an effect, especially if drunk in copious amounts.
    It didn’t take a brilliant mind to see the coming catastrophe, especially as the buxom Meena wavered on the bar’s polished countertop, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy, and her