Page 9 of Broken By the Battleship

She grinds her teeth and digs her nails deeper into my wrist. I tighten my grip on her throat.

Even though the depth of her devotion toward her brothers shines from her stormy blue eyes, I long to test her.

No, it’s more than longing. More than wanting to test her resilience.

Alpha instincts demand I become the center of her universe. I must supersede the little mongrels and rule her world. I must be the reason she fights, lives, and breathes.

I need her to need me.

Covered in her sire’s blood and wafting the acrid stench of fear from herself and her kin, she’s still the most beautiful and compelling thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

She closes her eyes, hiding her brilliant blue orbs, and wheezes through another breath. I belatedly loosen my grip on her throat and push down the vibration building in my chest.

With her tempting scent filling the space, I release her and take a tiny step back.

“Want to undress me?” I ask, but it isn’t a question.

It’s a test.

She opens and closes her fists at her sides as she considers her options.

“No, I don’t.”

The brutal honesty in her piercing stare guts me. She may as well have stuck her knife in my stomach. Her eye twitches, but she stands in naked, filthy glory before me as though she’s a queen wearing battle armor.

I laugh as understanding dawns.

She’s using a different tactic than I expected, but she’s still playing my game. After her rag doll stunt earlier, I thought she’d attempt to smile and say she’d love to undress me, therefore circumventing my yearning to take what she doesn’t want to give, but she saw through my guise and chose the easier route.

I would have demanded she strip me with her teeth if she’d pretended to be eager.

“Good. Kneel. Start with my boots,” I growl.

Her eyes shoot daggers at me, but she lowers herself to her knees and reaches for my right boot. With barely tempered fury in every move, she unties my laces and wraps her hand around my heel.

I lift my foot. She yanks until my boot comes off.

We repeat the process on my other foot. I lean on the wall and put the least amount of effort into helping her as possible.

“Undress me. Take everything off,” I demand.

Her lips thin and a sheen of tears glistens in her eyes, but she removes my socks and kneels up to open my belt.

My cock pulses in time with my heart as she unzips my jeans and parts the fabric. Metal clinks as my belt shifts.

She hooks her dainty fingers into my waistband and pulls both layers off my bottom half. With her knuckles white around the fabric and her head bowed, she urges me to step out of my pants without looking up, but I release the growl building in my chest, demanding she give me all her attention.

I yearn to see her bright blue eyes peering up at me. I need to read the emotions playing across her features.

She looks up.

Pearly white desire drips from the tip of my cock and lands on her forehead. My knot balloons at the base of my cock, obscuring my view of her breasts, but I relish the shock in her wide blue eyes as she stares at my jutting shaft.

She blinks. Fear joins her shock. She blinks again. A flush darkens her cheeks and need dilates her pupils. She jerks and closes her eyes when a second drop of precum lands on her forehead.

The glob of viscous fluid starts down toward her nose, but she tilts her head and sends it along her brow. I deepen my growl as my seed trails across her temple toward her ear.

It belongs in her mouth.

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