Page 28 of Sacrifice

She’s chosen me tonight, and I’m going to ensure it’s not the last time.

Her fingers claw at my collar, desperation in the pull of her hands as if she’s trying to bring me closer than physically possible. “Please,” she whispers against my lips, a plea that fires through my veins like adrenaline. “Touch me, Rook.”

I could ravage her, give in to the primal urge to claim her flesh beneath mine, but no—I hold back. My palms are steady on the curve of her waist, holding her like she’s precious, breakable. This restraint is my silent vow to her, an unspoken testament to the respect I have for her strength and fragility.

“Patience, love,” I murmur, even though every cell in my body screams to take what she’s offering.

She shudders, her breath hitching, and I know she feels the power in my self-control.

“Rook,” Aisling gasps out, her voice shaky. “I need you.”

Her scent wraps around me, sugary and potent, the essence of her omega nature that speaks directly to my core. It’s a fragrance that spells out home, future, everything. It promises ecstasy and agony, intertwined in the most delicious way. I’ve never felt this way about any other woman…and I’m damn sure not letting her go.

“Fuck,” I swear under my breath. She smells like sin and salvation, and I’m lost in the craving to devour every inch of her. But it’s more than lust; it’s a hunger for something deeper, something that goes beyond the physical. Her scent is the promise of everything I’ve ever wanted—everything I thought I’d never have.

“Touch me, please,” she begs again, and the raw need in her voice is nearly my undoing.

“Ask me nicely, Stargazer,” I tease, even as my fingers itch to trail up her body, to map out every curve and hollow.

“Rook,” she whines, and there’s a note of genuine frustration mixed with her mounting desire. “Please.”

“More,” I whisper, my lips grazing her ear, “beg me for it.”

“Please,” she repeats, her voice breaking on the word. “I want your touch…I need it.”

I slip to my knees before her, a supplicant worshipping at the altar of her need. My hands are firm as I push her dress up over her hips, revealing the damp fabric clinging to her like a second skin. Her panties are soaked, evidence of her arousal, and I can’t help but press my lips against the cloth, tasting her. The flavor is intoxicating, sweet with a hint of something wild, and it shoots straight down to my cock, making me throb with desire.

“Rook…” she moans, threading her fingers through my hair, pressing me closer.

“Easy, love,” I murmur against her skin, trailing kisses along her hipbones, her waist, savoring the softness of her flesh. She shivers under my touch, and I can feel the tension coiling inside her, begging for release.

“Please,” Aisling breathes out, her voice laced with urgency and something more vulnerable. “I can’t wait…”

“Trust me,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I kiss the skin just below her belly button, teasing her, drawing this moment out. I want to give her an experience that etches itself into her memory, one that marks her soul the way her scent has marked mine.

“Rook, I—I—” she stammers, her body trembling, but I’m resolute in my restraint.

“Shh,” I soothe her with another kiss, slightly lower. “Let me take care of you.”

Her response is a whimper, high and keening, and it’s the sweetest music to my ears. I’m determined to worship every part of her, to draw out her pleasure until she’s undone, until she understands that she doesn’t need alphas when she has me. I’ll make sure she never forgets this night, the night she chose to be with me.

Her thighs quiver as I slide her soaked panties down, each inch of progress marked by her short, needy breaths that fan across the top of my head. The fabric clings to her arousal, a testament to her desire, and when it’s finally free, I toss it aside without a second glance.

“Rook…” she pleads again, her voice cracking with the raw edge of need as I pull one of her legs over my shoulder, opening her to me completely.

I can’t help but admire the view before me; Aisling’s pussy glistening in the dim light of my room, beckoning me closer. Her scent wraps around me, a heady mixture of sweet omega pheromones that speaks directly to my deepest instincts. I lean in, my tongue eager to taste her.

“God, yes,” she gasps as I run my tongue along her folds, collecting her slickness. She tastes like nothing I’ve ever known, addictive and pure, and I’m ravenous for more.

My tongue finds her clit and I lap at it, slow and deliberate at first, then with increasing urgency as her hips begin to buck against me. I suck the sensitive bud into my mouth, flicking it with quick, practiced motions that draw sharp cries from her lips.

“Rook!” she screams, her hands fisting in my hair, tugging hard enough to send stabs of pain mingling with my surging pleasure.

“Let it go, Aisling,” I urge her between licks, my voice rough with my own growing need. “Give it to me.”

Her inner walls clench as if they’re trying to pull me in deeper, and her cries crescendo into a symphony of ecstasy that fills the room. My name, a desperate mantra on her lips, becomes the sweetest pledge of surrender as she gives herself over to the sensations I wring from her body.

“Rook!”

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