Page 4 of Broken By the Battleship

She jabs her blade into me three more times before I capture her wrist and pry the handle out of her grasp. Her furious snarls arrow straight to my balls. My hard cock strains against the confines of my trousers, desperate to sink into her tight, wriggling body.

I wrap my hand around her throat and shove her against the wall. She squeaks in pain but kicks at my shins and scratches at my arm until I press my front against hers and compress her jugular.

Despite being completely overpowered, she continues to fight, sinking her nails into my forearm and gouging away my flesh until blood drips off my elbow. Her wriggling entices my alpha instincts too much.

On the verge of losing control for the first time in my entire adult life, I snarl and wrap both hands around her throat. I press my hips harder into her, ensuring she feels the thick, hard length of my shaft against her stomach.

“Stop moving, little omega, before I rut you against the wall.”

She’s too far gone to hear me. I squeeze her throat while studying her face, afraid I’ll kill her in my alpha rage, yet struck with the certainty she’s strong enough to handle whatever I give her.

Warm delight blooms in my chest, thawing the icy grip of desperate revenge.

I grind my hips into her softness and flex my fingers. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she passes out.

The moment I release my grip, she jolts awake and gasps for breath.

With her nails still embedded in my forearm and confusion hazing her eyes, she studies my face. When understanding dawns, she swallows and shakes from head to toe. Tears shimmer in her eyes as her pupils retract, revealing her gorgeous blue irises.

“Don’t hurt them.”

Her husky voice travels up my arms and spreads throughout my entire nervous system like a drug.

She’s dangerous. She’s perfect. She’s mine.

“I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt them,” she pleads.

My gut clenches and dark delight swirls through my alpha soul.

The fury lurking in her deceptively innocent blue eyes says differently. Her nails sink deeper into my arm.

“Sheathe those claws, kitten, before I sheathe myself inside that lying little mouth.”

Her eyes glaze at the rumble in my tone, but when the meaning of my words sinks in through the fog, she pulls her hands away, closes them into fists, and glares at me. The challenge entices my alpha instincts.

“I don’t lie,” she says.

I chuckle and shift one hand to cup the side of her face. She clamps her teeth together as I rub my thumb over her lips.

“So, you’d drop to your knees and open your mouth if I promised not to hurt whoever is hiding inside that wall?”

Her throat moves in my grip as she swallows. The moment stretches. She studies my face, flitting her attention between my eyes, searching for something, but I’m not sure what.

“No. I’d do it if you promised no one would hurt them. Give them your protection and I’ll give you my everything.”

Her proposal stuns me, not because I’m tempted, but because it shows the depths of her calculation. I growl and lower my lips to her ear. The position grinds my thick shaft harder into her soft belly.

“There’s only one thing wrong with that, kitten. I don’t want you to give me anything. I want you to hiss, spit, claw, and fight. I want you feral.”

Her pulse pounds against my palm and her shaking doubles. I relish the stench of fear permeating from her pores.

She shocks me yet again with a tremulous laugh.

“Good,” she snaps.

“Good?” I growl.

“It’ll be easier that way. I won’t have to pretend.”

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