Page 19 of The Coveted Beta

He stills with his finger buried deep, glances across at me, and smirks. “I know. I’m on to her.”

She huffs out of breath, and her fingers fist the bedding beside her. “Please don’t keep stopping. I’m ready. I’m more than ready.”

“Hmm? Do you really think so?”

He directs the weeping tip of his cock at her pussy, and slides the head up and down through her slick folds. I almost feel the moment when he catches her entrance… and pushes.

My breath lodges in my throat, and my balls reach. Somehow, I manage not to fucking come.

And there he stops. She tries to jerk away. He encloses her throat in his fist and pins her still against the bed.

“You were getting impatient, my sweet Clara. Is this not what you want?”

Chapter Eleven

Frederick

The events leading up to this moment are indistinct. There’s a woman spread out beneath me. Her long blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulder and against the pillow. She has the kind of sinful body that could bring grown men to their knees. I certainly feel like I have been blessed and poleaxed all at once as I brace above the tiny beta. Her tits are flushed, her nipples hard, and her pussy slick.

There ought to be more preparation. I understand this. And yet, a primitive need is rising within me. One that seeks to claim. I can’t fucking claim her. She’s a beta, and married. She has a husband—one whom I consider a dear friend. And yet he opened the door to this. Allowed me to step inside. And it is hard to pull back.

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog that clouds my judgment. But it is no fucking use. My hand tightens on her throat, and my cock head breeches the hot welcoming warmth of her pussy. Gods, she is tight. My cock flexes. Her fretting tells me I’m causing her some discomfort, which only makes me want to plow her more.

I am not sane of mind, reverting to a beast-like state, one I have ever striven to mask in the interest of presenting a civilized facade. I am hyper-aware of the woman beneath me and how her pussy flutters around my cock head. Her eyes are a little glassy as she stares up at me. Her legs are spread around my greater bulk.

I lean down and kiss her, and she opens sweetly. Is it presumptuous of me to take her lips and her cunt without checking?

She is not my wife. I’m merely a cock that her husband has chosen to fuck her with, and the act should be done under his terms. I am an exotic titillation. A passing fantasy. A fantasy they have chosen to act out.

Only, alphas are so very driven when they find something that they want. I have forced myself to be blind to this woman, forced myself not to notice her because it is not appropriate for a man to poach another man’s wife. Yet here we all are, and as our tongues tangle, I can fool myself and pretend that this is something more.

My heart rate elevates, not only from the sensual pleasure I experience as her pussy strains to swallow the head of my cock, but from the emotional pull. I want to lift my head and roar. I want to do a lot of depraved things to this woman. But most of all, I want to make her mine.

I can’t. I know I can’t, and yet, that knowledge does not hold me back in the way it should.

Alex is still on the chair, watching. He hasn’t told me to stop. He hasn’t left the fucking room, either, so I’m thinking he is still on board with allowing this to progress further—the damn fool.

I ought to go over there and shake him for his stupidity, for presenting this fair woman for me to ravish and defile. She will not be the same when I am done with her. She already has the dazed look of a woman high on alpha pheromones. I will ruin her fucking cunt. I want to. I want to imprint myself on her. I want her to love me and forget him.

I feel ashamed even as I think about these things. Lifting my head, I gaze down at her and try to steady these rampant feelings that are racing through my mind.

A tear escapes the corner of her eyes, and I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, trying to work out what that means.

“Is it… are you all the way in?” she asks fidgeting beneath me.

I pull the tip fully out, and then thrust—so good. Her mouth opens to form a silent O, her eyes wide.

“No more than half,” I say. That is probably an optimistic assessment, but I believe she will be more encouraged by a half than a more realistic third.

I hear a groan from the other side of the room—it would seem Alex is getting off on this being a struggle for her, and that stirs my dark amusement. It is as though the scent of his arousal is pummeling me from all the way over there.

“Do you like me forcing her?” I glance toward Alex.

He nods. Swallows. Nods again. “Fuck, yes, I do.”

“You have a very naughty wife,” I say. “She all but goaded me into taking her roughly and sooner than I should.” She really didn’t. I’m just a bastard, and I’m getting off on this being a challenge as much as her husband is.

“She can take it. She just sometimes makes a little fuss,” her traitorous husband says.

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