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  Om

  A Jorgensen Legacy

  ChaShiree M

  MK Moore

  Breeding Nation Publishing

  Om (The Jorgensen Legacy)

  By ChaShiree M. & MK Moore

  © ChaShiree M. & MK Moore 2019 Breeding Nation Publishing

  All Rights Reserved

  By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.

  ASIN:

  Cover created by Dark Water Covers

  Editor Melinda G @ MKB Edits

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Om

  2. Taryn

  3. Om

  4. Taryn

  5. Om

  6. Taryn

  7. Om

  8. Taryn

  9. Om

  10. Taryn

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by ChaShiree M.

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Other books by MK Moore

  About the Author

  Dedicated to Fabiola. Om is ready for you!

  Prologue

  Om

  “Holy shit Brand. Who the fuck is the Frimia in the corner, bróðir?” I ask my brother, as my eyes roam over the Goddess across the room. Fucking hell. She is an oasis after a long 40 day and night trek through the desert.

  “Where are you looking?” He asks a bit too enthusiastically. I start to feel the possessiveness building. It's irrational that I don’t want him looking at her. Hell, I don’t want anyone looking at her.

  From where I’m standing it’s obvious to me, that her pussy is going to be tighter than a fucking corset. It makes me wonder if she has ever touched it herself. The enjoyment I will have in showing her all the magnificent ways her body is going to betray her, when it calls out for me. Every, motherfucking place I demand it to. Damn. Now I need to adjust my cock.

  “Oh. Do you mean the girl in the corner? That's, the sweet little Taryn.” A growl starts rumbling from my chest as the irrational need to blind every bastard in here that can see her. And cut the tongues out of the anyone who thinks they get to speak to her, let alone, give her cute fucking nicknames. Including my brother. At the noise that leaves my chest, my brother suddenly turns and looks over at me with shock on his face, and then it is replaced with humor.

  “Why are you growling at me? You asked who she was dear brother,” he says with a chuckle. It’s true that I did ask and I can do nothing about the fact that he knows her and I don’t. Yet.

  “Will, you just shut the fuck up and tell me her name again you ass.”

  “Taryn is her name. What the hell has gotten into you? You act as if you have just met your future wife or something. Also, what's with you giving her a Norse nickname? From your question about her name, you don’t even know her and you’re calling her ‘Goddess’.”

  “I did?” I don’t say anything more or seem to be able to turn away from her. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my brother’s shoulders tense.

  He looks at me and say with a very serious tone, “I get it now. So, what the fuck are you doing just standing here?” I am on the verge of responding when I see my Frimia talking to a soon to be dead waiter, who has his motherfucking hand on her shoulder. Before I can stop myself, I start storming across the room and am hardly aware of the warning coming from my brother.

  As I approach, she is looking intently at the fucking spaz standing in front of her. When she wrenches her head back and laughs, I feel my cock doing the Macarena trying to get to his luscious woman.

  Her tits stick out, but not too far. There is enough of them for me to have access as she is bent in half with her legs up to her neck. Shit! I need to shake this shit off, picturing her in different positions. The closer I get to her, my eyes see the feminine and gracefulness of her entire body.

  The real showstopper is her face. She’s pale, but not the chalky looking type you see in most. Somehow, she has a creamy smooth complexion that glows and radiates around everyone in her vicinity. It pisses me off even further. No one should be privy to her radiance but me. That’s my fucking angel being bathed in the light.

  Once I am within touching distance my gaze drops down and holy mother of the depraved. She has an ass that is made for fucking. Her ass begs so sweetly to be broken in by my fingers, tongue, and cock.

  “MY WOMAN,” I growl as I make it to her while grabbing her arm and dismissing the asshole talking to her. It looked like he thought to prove himself before he takes one look at my face and decides to tuck tail and ran.

  “Excuse me. Who the hell are you?” She asks.

  She is fucking cute when she tries to be mad and indignant. With an amazing surprise of strength from someone her size, she wrenches her arm from my hand. That action is not going to save her from me. Her cheeks are turning a crimson color as her ire rises. Damn. I wanna fuck that kind of reaction right out of her pussy. The need to make her channel it into a different type of fever as I fuck it right through her.

  “Your future, Frimia,” I tell her. My nose is slowly running from her neck to her ear as I breathe in her scent. My tongue is trailing behind and getting his own taste.

  “My-my name is not Fr-fr….whatever you called me.” She tries to argue, while her body is shivering for me. The smell of her desire that is pooling between her legs is starting to drive me insane. It makes the beast inside me want to pound himself over and over chanting the fucking lyrics to Úlfhéðnar a Viking war chant.

  “Oh, baby girl. You have awakened the warrior in me and I don’t know if you can handle my blade, baby. But fuck yeah, I am going to have some fun as I am slicing right through your virgin pussy.” The look of astonishment at what I am saying would almost be humorous if I wasn’t so serious.

  “Now, I know you have to finish working here tonight, but I would suggest you not allow anyone else to put their hands on you. I will not be held responsible for my actions if they do. Do you understand?” I ask. “Then you will meet me after you are done at UTGARD.”

  She is looking at me like I am the beast I feel right now. I wait for a second to see if she is going to say anything back. When she doesn’t, I kiss her head and walk away. If I had done anything else, I would have been walking her into my nephew's office and fucking her right on top of the copy machine. Pressing the copy button over and over to see if it can capture the liquid as it pools on top of the glass is a repeating thought. The need to create my own personal mementos of her dripping wet pussy to put inside my truck, so I can stroke one out whenever I need.

  I waited and waited for hours after the party was over. She didn’t meet me. When I look for her inside, she is already gone.
She got away from me this time. I’m coming for what’s mine and I don’t give two fucks if she is ready or not.

  1

  Om

  Son of a bitch! I am done waiting. It’s not like I was not being patient and I did try to be understanding. But my dick has been revolting for the past six weeks, while waiting to be able to claim his pussy. The fucking girl has me so hard, I could demolish a building with the steel rod in my pants. Every time I corner her and she admits what she feels for me, I pin her to whatever surface is around and try my hardest not to fuck the shit out of her.

  The idiot that I am, I was trying to prove to her that we are more than sex. It is not only that I want to obliterate her fucking pussy with my mouth and cock. My hands will anchor her to me so she can’t leave, but it doesn’t mean my heart is not involved as well. She admits that she feels something for me, but right now she is more focused on her career. I thought I had gotten through to her and made her see that she could have both, but I guess not.

  In the meantime, I have been trying to lock her down for another date for the past two weeks, but now I am fucking done with waiting. At first, I showed her the Om that I thought wouldn’t scare her. Now it's time to show her the Om that doesn’t give a fuck. It’s time to pick up the phone and call my brother.

  “Brand? Is the cabin still unoccupied? We don’t have any recoveries up there, right now?” I rattle the questions off.

  “Hi to you to bróðir.” He says.

  Does he think I have time for this shit. I do take note that he called me by the Norse name for brother. It usually means there is something on his mind, but he won’t tell me unless I pry it out of him. And ordinarily I would, but right now I need to get my woman under me.

  “Just answer the question, asshole.”

  “No. It's clear. Why?” He asks.

  “I need it.”

  “I don’t remember there being a seek and recovery on the board.”

  “Thanks, but it’s not for that. I am going to be occupying the space for at least a week. If anyone is looking for me, would you tell them I am on recognizance?”

  “Bróðir, what the hell is going on? Are you in some kind of trouble? Do I need to get the boys in formation? You know ‘The Colonel’ and Axel are coming in. Do you need them?” He is rattling off question after question.

  Oh shit. The last thing I need is for Brand to send the fucking lunatics on my trail. The ‘Colonel’ was our best friend growing up. After graduation he went into the military and given a squad of his own. When he left the service, some of his men followed him. He took that squad and he made them deadly. They are not only accurate with a gun, but they were also efficient at killing with their bare hands.

  “No. Ok listen. If you really must know, nosy ass, I am taking Taryn there.” I say hoping that he drops it at that much of an explanation.

  “Did she finally give in to you? That’s great, man.” He sounds happy for me.

  “Not exactly.” I don’t need to say anything else. I take his silence to mean he knows I am about to do something off the reservation. He is my brother and no one knows me better than my brothers.

  “Fuck, OM. Are you sure you want to do this? Is she really worth it?”

  “She is worth every breath in my lungs. I just need to make her see it. Even if I have to…..listen just keep people off us for a while. Can you do that?”

  “If you are sure, then of course. I will redirect her calls for a while and lock her signal in one location at pinging throughout town every so many hours. Yours will be locked into Mexico. If you need anything else, call.”

  “Thank you, Brand. I owe you.” I know his mind has gone somewhere else he has yet to let me enter. Whatever it is he is holding onto so tight and I hope he gets it worked out. I don’t like to see my brother so troubled.

  “I am counting on it, Om. I might need you sooner than you think.” Knowing not to ask right now, I jump in my car and head to my woman. It's time to take what's mine.

  2

  Taryn

  What the fuck am I going to do? I can't get that man off my mind nor outta my heart. Om Jorgensen is perfection personified. He is haunting my every waking moment as well as my dreams. As an orphan from Austin, Texas, he makes me crave things I didn't know I wanted or needed. My parents got killed in a carjacking that had gone wrong ten years ago. Each one was an only child of only children who were now long dead. With no one to take me in, I went into foster care at the age of nine and somehow came out unscathed but overly cautious.

  I've now made the same fucking cake three times. This last time I burnt it. Granted, it's only the top tier of yet another wedding cake. But damn it, this is frustrating as fuck. I'm a foul mouthed toad when I'm frustrated, and this mess I've found myself in takes the cake. Literally, I think as I toss the layer into the trash.

  Why am I resisting him? Not only does he come from a huge family, that is slowly but surely getting bigger, but he makes me smile. His caveman antics are endearing, though they should frighten me and makes me want him more. So, why can't I leap? The big, strong, and handsome Viking of a man who wants me, scares me. It terrifies me that he could leave me and I would be all alone again. I have a terrible feeling if I let myself fall for him, he'll leave me. Whether on his or for reasons beyond his control it could still happen.

  The old adage “it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all” has me leaning towards leaping. He has made it more than known that I'm his. People don't say shit like in front of other people unless they mean it. Right?

  In my heart, I know I want him. My pussy tells me, I need him. My head tells me he's playing with me. There can be no way in hell an accomplished and established man like him wants me for more than a night. But I think that's just my brain playing tricks on me.

  I do not want to talk about how hot he is. Okay, lets. He's tall. Very tall. He is much taller than my 5’5 self. His hair is short in a military buzz cut that makes me drool a little. The muscles on him are like what you would find on a football player. His green eyes stare at me anytime we are in the same room together, which has only been the main dining room in UTGARD, where I'm the pastry chef. I've got dreams and this is a just a stepping stone.

  It doesn't help that my pussy gets wetter than the ocean whenever he stands near me. His Dolce and Gabbana cologne makes my knees go weak. Which brings me back to my original question. What the fuck am I going to do about him? I know what I want to do and what I wanna do is march right down to his office, hop on his desk, and let him take me, but I won't.

  Unfortunately, my dumbass has been avoiding him, as if he’s had the plague for the last three weeks. I don't know how to stop now. At first, I was upset with his high handed, “you will meet me” mentality, but if I'm honest it is what I crave.

  I've been alone for many years. Foster care has a tendency to do that to you. I had no friends until I moved here last year and now I have them in droves. There are more than I'll ever know what to do with, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

  The person I'm closest with is Erika Jorgensen. She is Om's niece, but that's not as weird as I thought it would be. He's only twenty years older than me, but he's give men half his age a run for their money.

  After pouring the batter I've been absentmindedly making into a clean cake pan, I pop it into the oven and remember to set a timer this time. I tap my finger on my chin while I wait. It's five in the morning, but this is the only time I can use the ovens unhindered. I’m actually in at three am and work until noon when the sous chef, Reiner, a French man with a temper, comes in to start the soups and sauces. I can't stand the man. He's always staring at me with a lecherous look on his smug face. I think he's lucky that Om hasn't caught him, but I might be putting to much stock in Om's feelings for me.

  I'd give just about anything to have my own bakery with a wall of ovens. If I did then I could take Loki his pastries and pies everyday before UTGARD opens. It would be great to do my own thing and b
e my own boss. At this point, unfortunately it's a pipe dream. I'm only nineteen and what little credit I have is already bad.

  My timer goes off and I pull my perfect cake topper out of the oven. I let it cool on the counter so I can get my top layer of icing on it. I get it iced and into the freezer to prepare for the second layer. I move on to pies.

  At around six, I hear a noise in the alley. I turn down my music considering I'm obsessed with reggaeton and listen for the noise again. When I don't hear anything, I shrug and turn my music back up and get back to rolling out my crust.

  Unexpectantly a hand goes over my mouth and I can feel a big hard body behind me. At first, I start to panic and struggle against the man. What the fuck is happening now? This is Bleak, Minnesota for God's sake. With the exception of Migan's issue a few weeks ago, shit doesn't go down here. Ever.

  Then, I feel a huge erection digging into the middle of my back above my bra. Holy shit. I can smell it. The telltale Dolce and Gabbana The One Grey cologne that haunts me wherever I go and I stop struggling as my pussy floods in my tight yoga pants.

  Om? What's he up to?

  3

  Om

  Fuck. It feels good to have her tight ass wiggling in my face as she is bouncing over my shoulder. When I took the fucking pain in my ass from her job and tied her hands up as I wrestled her out the door, the vision I had as I threw her in the back seat should be illegal. As much shit as she was trying to give me with her mouth gagged by a handkerchief I put over it, I could smell her motherfucking weeping pussy. Laying her across my seat with her hands, mouth, and feet bound in rope, I could certainly go for some car door bound pussy right now. I look at her as she is spitting shit at me through her eyes and trying to pretend this shit isn’t exactly what she had been after all along.