Filed to story: The Tyrant Alphas Rejected Mate
Excellent point. I drop to my knees.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks.
She knows. I can scent it when her pussy floods with cream. I hoist her up, bunching her skirt to her waist, settling her legs over my shoulders, massaging and stretching those aching muscles. We can kill two birds with one stone.
She wriggles, but with the door at her back and my head delving between her thighs, she’s pinned.
She’s not trying very hard to get loose. She’s panting, her fingers plunging into my hair. I lower my fangs and rip the crotch of her panties. She moans, pushing her slick folds into my face. I have to quickly close my lips so I don’t nick her with my teeth.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmurs as she tugs my hair. I lick her sweet, puffy seam, savoring the explosion of flavor on my tongue. Her thighs squeeze, compressing my ears to my head. I have to readjust so I can hold her open and keep her still. I need to hear her moans.
Before we leave this cabin, go around other males, she needs to know who she belongs to.
She’s gonna say my name. She’s gonna scream it, and I’m gonna walk into the lodge with her cream drying on my face.
“I’m mad at you,” she gasps. “We’re having an argument.”
I spear her wet hole with my tongue, teasing her clit with the finger parting her folds. “That,” she gasps. “There. Right there.”
I go harder, flatten my tongue and lick in between flicks. She bucks as hard as she can, but she’s stuck between the door and my mouth. I suck her clit while I grip her juicy ass, spreading those cheeks, opening everything to me.
Her hips rock harder. I’m straining my jeans, and I want more than anything to slide down my zipper and jam her onto my aching cock, spurt my seed into her until her belly bulges.
It’s beyond desire. It’s necessity. My eyes burn with the effort of holding back, denying myself the soft, sweet, slippery warmth I crave more than air or meat or a wild run under a full moon.
But I can’t. I can’t.
If I take her now, I’ll lose her a minute later. My bond to her is steel. Hers is a tender shoot.
She has to come to me.
I know it in my bones.
So I devour her pussy like a starving man, explore every crease, every crevice. Her thighs quiver, and she pulls my hair as she rides my face.
“This doesn’t solve anything,” she moans.
Like hell. It fixes everything. I adjust my grip, seek out her puckered back hole with my middle finger. I’ve never tried this before. I move slow, giving her plenty of time to clench and shift away. She doesn’t. She sucks in a breath, and I press against the tight ring. She squirms, mewling, panting.
I don’t want to hurt her.
I swirl my tongue around her stiff nub, massaging her wet hole with my thumb, smearing her cream over her plump lips.
She’s about to explode. Her abs are tight, and she’s kicking my back with her heels like she’s spurring me on.
I love her abandon.
She’s not shy now. Not at all. She’s wild for me. Only me. And her heat isn’t riding her. This is all my doing, no assist from nature.
I press further into the tight muscle grasping my finger, try to be gentle and try not to come in my pants as I feel her inside, tight and hot and clenching. She shrieks, “Oh, oh, oh!”
And then she’s jerking, spasming, and she hollers, “Killian!”
I spurt in my jeans, a massive gush, hot and sticky.
She blinks. Her eyes clear. And narrow.
Shit.
I sink immediately to my ass, wrap my arms around her and tuck her to my chest. Now is when she freaks out. Withdraws back behind that serious, reserved, humble expression that I realize more and more is a straight out lie.
Not now. I nibble my bite mark, and she shivers. “You belong to me, shy girl. You know that right?”
She tenses and struggles to put space between us. I’ll let her. In a second. Once my wolf collects himself.
“I’m my own person,” she mumbles into my T-shirt.
“I belong to you. Wolf and man.” She’s got to know, but it can’t hurt to say out loud. Females need words. Even I know that.
“So you say now.” She heaves at my pecs, and I let her get away. She lands on her butt, legs sprawled. “Maybe I don’t want you.”
I arch an eyebrow. Her thighs are chafed red from my five o’clock shadow. She huffs at me and tugs her skirt back down.
I don’t let myself crack a smile. Instead, I give her a wink, hop to my feet, and go wash my hands in the kitchen.
I stalk the bond and listen as she scurries to the bathroom and then rummages around in the bedroom. She’s probably looking for fresh panties. I ruined the pair she’d been wearing for good with my fangs, but she’d made a nice mess of them before we got to that part. They’re laying in the foyer. I scoop them up before she comes back and gets all embarrassed. I like her better feisty than bashful.
Although making her blush does make me hard.
I head after her, stopping in the bathroom to clean up. Never came in my jeans before. Can’t say I’m a fan. It’s undignified as hell, and it makes the denim chafe.
I’m more than a little grateful that Una’s too busy fussing at me to notice the scent of seed.
I grab fresh pants from the dryer, and then I go see what’s keeping her. She’s still in the bedroom. There’s an odd sensation coming through the bond. A wistfulness. Longing. But not for me.
Her feelings for me are bold. This is a mild aching.
I pause at the door, careful to step heavy enough that she hears me coming. I don’t know if she can track me through the bond like I can. Or if she bothers.
She’s standing beside the unmade bed, fingering the Amish quilt. It’s a knot pattern, soft and faded from washing. It was my grandmother’s. My mother’s mother. I’ve got no living kin on my father’s side. Declan Kelly wandered into Quarry Pack territory one inauspicious day, killed the old alpha, and ruled with an iron fist until he keeled over with a chicken bone stuck in his throat, and not a soul moved to help him.
Not my mother. Not me.
Everything I’ve done since has been to ensure that history won’t repeat itself. Every male in Quarry Pack can fight. And every outcast from the five packs knows better than to try to find their fortune here.
It’s not been an easy path, but our females and pups are safe.
I lean against the doorframe. Una must know I’m here, but she doesn’t turn her head. She’s braided her hair again and changed into a flowing lavender dress. She’s beautiful and calm, but her eyes are distant. Sad.
Are our females and pups happy?
I’ve never wondered before. I assumed. No one’s getting beat. No one’s hungry.
If they weren’t content, would anyone tell me? Would anyone think I’d even care to know?
“What are you doing?” I ask Una because it’s easier than following that train of thought.
“This is a lovely quilt.”
“It was my grandmother’s.”
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?