Page 50 of Alpha Brock

I clench my jaw, giving a shake of my head. “I saiddon’t. I don’t want you thinking this is something it isn’t.”

Astrid sighs. “I’m not. I just…”

“Just don’t,” I growl, cutting her off again. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear it. I shoot her a sideways glance and it’s almost like I can feel my heart hardening. Turning to stone again. “I already did the girlfriend thing, I’m not looking for another one.”

She presses her lips into a tight line, staring out the windshield. “Okay,” she whispers, and that’s the last thing she says to me. We ride in silence the rest of the way back to Riverton.

~

Astrid

I should’ve known better than to try to pull another vision from Brock. And I definitely should’ve known better than to tell him what it was, given his reaction last time. I could feel his pain when I was in the vision; it was excruciating. It’s clear that he still carries some of that around with him, and dredging it up did exactly what I feared it would- it made him completely shut down. He shut me out.

As soon as we got back to the packhouse, he stormed off to his room and never came back down, while I just stewed about what happened between us in the car. Of course it made me feel lousy, but I also have to rationalize that his words came from a place of hurt. He was lashing out, hurting me because he was hurting. I won’t hold it against him, so long as he lets me back in. He’ll have to let me back in eventually- I’ve seen it.

It's after two in the morning when I tiptoe into the kitchen for a late-night fridge raid, in search of a snack. There isn’t much to choose from- these boys really should shop for groceries once in a while. After a few minutes of rummaging around, I settle for a glass of apple juice, pouring it and drinking it down.

I’m contemplating a second glass when I feel a prickly sensation on the back of my neck, my hairs standing on end. I slide my empty glass onto the counter as I hear footsteps prowling up behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to see who it is. I inhale through my nose, his thick, masculine scent washing over me, making me a little weak in the knees.

I can hear his breathing as he steps closer, and I swear I can feel the heat radiating off of his body. Strong arms wrap around my waist, tugging me until my back collides with his hard chest. He’s shirtless, and I relish in the sensation of his skin against my bare shoulders and arms. He dips his head down beside mine, and I feel his warm breath fanning against my ear and neck, sending a tingle down my spine.

Brock doesn’t say a word- he just wraps me in his arms and holds me tight to his chest. I can feel every hard line of his body against mine as I relax back into him, my eyes sliding closed. I can also feel his emotions; the things he can’t bring himself to say radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t want to shut me out, he just doesn’t know any other way to be. He doesn’t know how to handle his pain.

I grasp onto his forearms with my hands, willing him to give his pain over to me. To let me in and let me ease his burden. I focus on that idea; of him transferring some of that to me and lessening his load. And while I have no clue whether or not that’s even possible, it actually feels like it helps. Like he starts to relax a little bit against me, too.

His proximity has my body temperature rising by the second. My heart thumps in my chest as I begin to squirm against him, his breath on my neck sending a wave of heat flooding to my core. He must know what he’s doing to me, because he inhales deeply and I feel low growl rumble in his chest. One of his hands presses against my belly while the other slides up under my shirt, cupping my breast.

“Give it to me,” I whisper, my hands coming to his and covering them. “Give me your pain.”

He sucks in a breath, his movements stilling. “You can’t handle it,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear.

I bite my lip, suppressing a moan as he rolls my nipple between his fingers. “You’d be surprised what I can handle.”

My breathing quickens as the hand on my belly starts sliding south, slipping into my underwear. His cups my pussy in his hand and I gasp as he sinks a finger inside of me, the thick digit stretching my tight channel. I’m so wet that it slides in easily and he starts pumping it, his lips coming to my neck. I try to hold it back, but when his teeth graze the tender flesh of my neck, biting down, a needy whine escapes from my lips- and the next thing I know, Brock’s other hand is coming up to my mouth, clamping down over it to silence me.

Holy fuck. I suddenly can’t think straight- he’s finger fucking me and grinding the heel of his hand against my clit and nipping my earlobe as my knees wobble, threatening to give way. My orgasm builds quickly, and suddenly I’m right there on the precipice, my body trembling as my pussy weeps into one of Brock’s hands and my mouth moans into the other. Then he sends me sailing off the cliff. He pinches my throbbing clit between his thumb and forefinger and I go off like a bomb, my legs buckling beneath me as my body shakes. His hand between my legs holds me up while his other muffles my scream. My vision floods with exploding stars.

Brock doesn’t uncover my mouth until I’ve ridden out my orgasm and I’m fighting to catch my breath- and even then, his hand only slips down as far as my neck, gripping it possessively. I asked for his pain, but all he’s given me is pleasure. He withdraws his hand from my panties and I spin around to face him, searching his eyes in the darkness. Reaching for the hard rod between his legs. As soon as my hand grasps it, he grunts, shuddering, lifting me by the waist to set me on the counter. My legs immediately part to welcome him in, my arms coming around his neck. My lips crash against his, his tongue sweeping against them and demanding entry. As soon as I grant it, he’s devouring me, kissing me senseless like he’ll never get enough. Bruising my lips with his urgency.

I feel his cock pressing insistently to the apex of my thighs, separated only by my thin lacy panties and his own boxer briefs. I grind my hips forward onto him and he groans into my mouth, fingers digging into my waist. Then his boxers come down, he shoves my panties to the side, and the smooth head of his dick is at my entrance. He thrusts inside, kissing the life out of me as he does, swallowing my scream.

He fucks me hard. Rough. Dirty. He drags my lower lip between his teeth and wraps my hair around his fist, yanking my head back and covering my mouth with his hand again. He hammers into me at a brutal pace, that fine line between pain and pleasure blurring as another orgasm begins to build from deep inside of me. Then he releases my hair and grips my throat instead, his eyes coming to mine as the fingertips of his other hand bruise my hip. His eyes are wild, feral, all-consuming. He doesn’t take them off of mine as he pounds me into the kitchen counter, his grip around my throat tightening and restricting my air. He takes his pain and frustration out on my body and I willingly accept it, welcoming it. Needing it every bit as badly as he does.

Without warning, a second climax rips through my body, my pussy gripping his dick, my thighs tightening around his waist, my heels digging into his butt. He releases my throat and I suck in a greedy gasp of air as the same hand roughly grabs my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes as I ride out my orgasm. He finds his own release, slamming into me, emptying inside of me as he chokes back a moan. Our eyes remain locked the whole time, and I swear I’ve never felt as close to another person as I do right now; like both our guards are down and we’re peering into one another’s souls.

We both slowly come back to reality, sinking into the fuzzy afterglow of orgasm. Brock pulls out and drops his forehead onto my shoulder, still panting- I can feel his ragged breaths fan against my chest as his cum trickles down my inner thighs. We stay like that for a long moment, and then he steps back, reaching down to yank up his boxers. I hop down from the counter and adjust my panties, sweeping my unruly curls out of my face with a hand and peering over at him cautiously.

Brock gives me one last long look before turning away and heading for the stairs. Retreating back to his room; his fortress of solitude. My legs are still a bit wobbly as I tuck the carton of apple juice back in the fridge and make my way back to my own.

I wish he’d talk to me and spill all of his secrets, but I know he’s not ready yet. He needs more time, though we don’t have much before the shadow pack arrives in Denver. A week and a half, at best. We have to start focusing in on that more, because nothing I’ve seen will come to fruition if we don’t survive the upcoming battle.

We have to survive it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Brock

I hate the way that Astrid makes me feel out of control. I tell myself that I’m going to keep my distance, and then as soon as I see her, I’m instantly yanked to her like a magnet. I can’t resist her scent, her sexy little body. Her bright smile and that airy giggle. Her eternal optimism. Somehow all the things I used to find annoying about her are suddenly adorable, and it frustrates me to no end. Like my body and my instincts are betraying my rational mind.

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