He growls, and the purr slashes through the hunger that has me in thrall. “Just my very nearness makes you want my cock thrusting inside you.”
My spine arches back and my breasts grow heavy.
Every part of me wants to go to him, to throw myself at him and beg him to take me.
“And you will have it, but only when you do as you are told.”
Rage thrums my nerve endings. That I needed him to fuck me and break my heat cycle is bad enough. That he taunts me about my dependency on him and holds back, is far worse. I feel like I am losing the very last of whatever pride I was holding on to. Pride? Hah! I have nothing left, nothing but this fiery will to fight back. To take what I need instead of always being put in a position where I am being manipulated and used.
Something inside me snaps.
I’ve had enough.
Enough.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t always be the responsible one. The one who should provide for my clan. The one who found a safe passage to this country. The one who negotiated with the leader of Scotland. The one who took the initiative to walk into this alpha’s palace determined to see his demise. Not knowing it was my own that was in sight. If this is all that’s left of me, then so be it. If I am reduced to this sniveling, wanting mass of emotions that cannot survive on my own anymore, then so be it.
I am tired of hiding what I am.
An omega who chooses to take.
A woman who will let herself feel.
A lover who will revel in her alpha’s skin sliding over hers.
Who will be broken and filled again because she derives pleasure from it.
I am tired of asking. It’s time I take what I need.
Everything around me fades. The room recedes. Everything except him. His scent, his face, those blue eyes that tear into my soul. It’s all I can see. My gaze focuses in on him. Springing up on the bed, I run to the edge then jump across the space and throw myself at him.
His body sways. The breath slams out of him. He takes a step back but doesn’t fall. He grabs my waist and holds me in place. I snap my legs around him, loop my arms over his shoulders, and fix my lips on his.
His mouth opens in surprise, and I slide my tongue in.
I drink of him, suck of his essence, I take from him and keep taking. I don’t stop. At some point he responds. He yanks me close enough for my skin to rasp over his vest that he still hasn’t removed. I smell blood in the air. Mine? His? I don’t know.
A growl rumbles up his chest, flowing up our joined bodies. My thighs spasm and I dig my heels into the hard planes of his back.
He slants his head and sucks on my tongue.
The taste of him sinks into my mouth, flowing through my blood, and goes straight to my head.
Everything inside me comes alive.
My toes curl, and I dig my heels into his back. I am likely hurting myself, hurting him, too…and that doesn’t matter. If anything, it only feeds that hunger inside me that is pushing to get out. That writhes and groans and wants more, so much.
I realize then I can’t stop.
Not until I have him.
Not until I have it all. Not until I am in him, as he is in me. And it’s not fair that this monster, this alpha who has the future of my clan in his hands is the one who can arouse these feelings of complete submission in me. But I am not submitting, am I?
All I am doing is tearing open my heart, my soul, my body, and offering it to him. And him? He takes.
Without tearing his mouth from mine, he walks to the bed. The world tilts; I feel the bed at my back. He pulls his mouth from mine and rises to his feet, putting distance between us.
My pulse quickens. Eyes half blind with desire, my senses alive with need, I move to rise with him. “No, please, don’t…” Don’t what? Don’t go? Don’t leave me? I want to say it out loud.
But that tiny, rational part of me that is still functioning holds me back. I have all but submitted my body to him, not my soul. Not my will. I cannot give him that. I will not put myself through the ultimate betrayal and give up everything. Not yet.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, my chest feels like it is going to burst, and there is a growing pressure in my head. My brain cells seem to be melting, and surely, he can see it? Can’t he tell how difficult this is for me? Can’t he see how much I need this, need him? How much I want him to just take me, to give me the oblivion I so crave?
And maybe he does, because he cups my cheek. “Shh! I am not going anywhere. I just need to take off my clothes so I can feel you completely.”
I swallow, registering the change in him. When did that happen? When did he go from being the aggressor to the comforter? I blink, and a teardrop runs down my cheek. His gaze follows it. Then he leans down and licks it up.
“You taste so sweet, so haunting.” He brushes his lips over mine and straightens.
Every part of me wants to follow him, to fling myself back at him. But I wait. Wait.
I don't move. I can't take my gaze off him as he unhooks his vest.
Walking to the chair, he drapes it over the backrest.
The thick muscles of his triceps bulge. The scent of him deepens. Pungent, tangy, and so evocative. My mouth waters. The muscles low in my belly tighten. I clench my thighs but cannot stop the fresh burst of moisture that flows out. A low whine is drawn out of me.
I hear the keening need in it, and that turns me on further. “Hurry.” My breath comes out in puffs. My chest rises and falls.
I want to lie back and shut my eyes, then fall into that black, yearning mass of need that is me. And yet a part of me cannot take my gaze away from the complete picture of maleness that is unfolding in front of me.
He slides the pants down and steps out of them.
Every part of me snaps to attention. My palms and feet tingle. I’ve seen him naked before, and yet the sheer poetry of those angles and planes of his body hits me anew. Heat flushes my skin. Every pore in my body is focused on him.
His wide back narrows to tight flanks that contract as he turns to face me.
I’ve sensed his strength, and yet the force of his dominance takes me by surprise.
He’s so very male, every inch of him. My fingers twitch to grip his muscles and feel the unleashed power that hums under his skin.
His thighs are already taut with need, and between them his arousal which is large and veined. Saliva pools in my mouth. The size of him, the smell of his arousal, how he'd filled me earlier and pumped into me. The warmth of his cum filling my channel, his tongue thrusting into my mouth...the images flicker across my mind, speeding up. My breath comes in quick gasps. Sweat beads my palm. I know I am staring and I can’t stop. Not even when he circles his shaft and runs his hand up the length. The slit glistens with beads of precum.
I lick my lips, wanting to taste him again.
I open my mouth to tell him, but all that emerges is a moan.
It seems to galvanize him into action, for he strides to the bed, leans above me, and rubs the liquid over my lips. “Tell me you want me.”
I stare but can’t stop myself from flicking out my tongue and slurping up the moisture.
His gaze grows lighter, and those irises of his turn almost colorless. “Say it. I’ll give you what you need. All I need is to hear you say it now.”
“No,” I growl.
He holds my gaze.
And that connection is so hot, so unnerving that my hips seem to jerk forward of their own accord. I raise my pelvis, and scissor my legs around his waist so my core meets his cock. The swollen head of his shaft nudges the entrance of my wet channel, then he plunges inside.