Page 39 of Alpha Brock

Brock grunts, a look of pure lust in his eyes as he tips back, stroking his dick faster. He returns his thumb to rub my clit and delves his finger back into my tight channel, continuing his tortuous assault on my pussy. The pressure quickly builds again, and it feels like an eternity before I hear his low, throaty voice say the words I’ve been waiting for.

“Come for me, Astrid.Now.”

I go off like a firecracker, fisting the sheets with my hands and screaming out as my body trembles and shakes with my orgasm. It’s the most intense climax that has ever racked my body- tears slip from my eyes; my toes go numb. I feel sticky warmth hit my chest as Brock finds his release at the same time, painting my breasts with stripes of his cum as a guttural moan falls from his lips.

I think I black out for a second before I catch my breath, my eyes fluttering open to see Brock staring down at me, looking triumphant and sated and…awestruck. Seriously, the way he’s looking at me- he’sneverlooked at me like this before.

He slinks backwards, tucking his dick back into his pants and stumbling off of the bed, turning away without a word. For a second, I think he’s just going to leave me there covered in his cum, but he ducks into the bathroom and comes back a few seconds later with a warm washcloth, crawling over me again and using it to clean my breasts.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” he grumbles as he swipes the washcloth across my skin reverently, and I see that look in his eyes once more- like there’s a crack in the concrete wall he’s built around his heart. A crack that might be just big enough for me to slip in.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he stops, peering down at me. I reach out, tracing his sharp jawline with my fingertips. “Kiss me.”

And he does. He leans in, pressing his lips against mine, tingles spreading out through my limbs. He kisses me hard, like he means it, but somehow it’s also tender, sweet. Different, but a good kind of different. His body sinks down onto mine, his arms winding around my back. Holding me while he kisses the life out of me.

When he breaks the kiss, we’re both gasping for air. He rolls onto the bed beside me, laying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. I tip sideways, watching him as he blinks, wondering what’s going on in that beautiful head of his.

Then he suddenly sits up, gazing down at me. I can practically see his walls slamming back into place, shutting me out again as he slides off of the bed. I don’t try to stop him- I know what this is. The chemistry between us is hot as fuck, but we don’t owe each other anything.

As he goes to leave, though, I get a little glimpse of something. It’s so quick that I’m not even sure if it’s a vision or my own imagination… but if it’s real, it changes everything.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Brock

“Damn, you’re up early,” Jared comments as I stroll into the kitchen on Saturday morning.

“Don’t get used to it,” I groan, going straight for the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup. My nose twitches as a delicious scent wafts my way from the oven. “Damn, what’s that smell?”

“Your mom brought a quiche over,” Jared says, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the kitchen counter. “I think it’s bacon and tomato this time.”

“Nothing gets me out of bed faster than the smell of Mom’s quiche,” Brent laughs, sauntering in. He looks my way, narrowing his eyes. “Bacon and tomato again, really? Isn’t that your favorite?”

“Sure is,” I smile smugly.

When we were growing up, my mom would make a quiche every Saturday for breakfast, changing up the types of veggies or meat that went into it each week. She’d make a big deal about making the dish from scratch, and I’ve gotta admit that there must be a method to her madness, because it’s always delicious. Since her and my dad moved out of the packhouse a few months back after he stepped down from his position as Alpha, Mom has stopped by every Saturday morning to bake us a quiche. She says it’s because she values tradition, but really, the woman’s just an angel. She also never misses an opportunity to check up on Brent and me.

I make my way over to my usual stool at the kitchen island, sinking down onto it and taking a sip of my coffee. I watch as Brent goes to the fridge to take out a carton of hazelnut coffee creamer and carries it over to the coffee pot. He pours himself some coffee, then adds the creamer- and I swear the guy only drinks coffee as an acceptable way to get the sugary creamer into his mouth, because it’s basically half and half, the color of chocolate milk.

“You should’ve come out with us last night,” Brent says, glancing at me over his shoulder as he caps the coffee creamer and walks it back over to the fridge. “A group of girls from Stillwater showed up at the bar, you totally missed out.”

“Hm,” I grunt, taking another sip of my coffee.

If Brent knew what I got up to last night, he wouldn’t accuse me of missing out, that’s for sure. I’ve got the image of Astrid spread out on the bed and marked with my cum seared into my memory. I shouldn’t have gone there with her, butfuck, I took one look at her wrapped in that fluffy white towel and I couldn’t help myself. I had to touch her, had to taste her. And now that I have, I’m not sure if I have the willpower to resist going back for more.

Honestly, I slept better last night than I have in weeks. I woke up this morning feeling refreshed, content. More myself than I have in a long time.

“You didn’t miss out on much,” Jared teases, side-eyeing Brent. “Other than watching your brother strike out over and over again.”

“Hey!” Brent protests, delivering a playful jab to Jared’s bicep.

I smell peaches, and my head snaps toward the hallway off of the kitchen to see Astrid striding in from it, her light brown curls bouncing with her springy steps. As usual, she’s still in her pajamas- a little pair of blue cotton shorts and a thin white t-shirt.

I wonder if she showered again last night or if my scent’s still on her. For some reason, the thought of her walking around marked with my scent makes me smugly satisfied, and it makes my wolf sit up and preen. He’s ready to claim Astrid as ours, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s been wrong.

“Morning, boys!” she greets, a bright smile on her face.

The girl is pure sunshine. Most mornings it annoys me, but today she’s… beautiful.Damnit. I immediately curse myself for that thought and when her deep brown eyes slide over to meet mine, I look down into my coffee cup.

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