Page 26 of Cruel Alpha: Season One

Wetness surges between my legs, and I want to come. I want to come against his lips because he owes me atleastthis. I grip his hair tighter, holding him in place while I grind against his mouth. Instead of being angered by the very clear powerplay, heseems to enjoy it, lapping juices from my core before tending to my clit again.

“Don’t stop,” I pant, rocking my pussy against his face, smearing my wetness against his lips and chin, marking him like he marked me in his office that first day. In my head, this makes us even.

Forthatoffense anyway.

He cups my ass from underneath, lifting me closer, and the subtle roughness of his stubbled jaw brushes my inner thighs. I stare down my body, into eyes so deep and dark I question whether he even has a soul. There isn’t any doubt that I shouldn’t be enjoying this, the visual of his face between my legs as he serves me, but… I am.

I’m enjoying thefuckout of it, actually.

It’s like he’s inside my head as he stares back, reading my thoughts of defiance while my body contradicts every single word if it. My subconscious is shouting the many reasons he’s undeserving of even amorselof attention or affection. But as the softness of his lips encircles my firm, tender clit, sucking and savoring my taste, I don’t have the will to stop this.

I’ve only ever touchedmyself, only ever experienced the explosiveness of an orgasm by my own hand. But as my heart quickens, and my chest swells with each of my rapid breaths, it’s against the warm, skilled mouth of my alpha that I’ll come tonight.

It’s never felt quite like this when I’ve been alone. Never quite this…good.I squirm, fighting the words of praise that want to flow out of me because he cannot have that.

He doesn’t deserve it.

I find myself longing for more, for heat, for pressure, for friction deep inside me. Persistent pulses run through my core, and my entirebeingquakes as I endure wave after wave of pleasure so intense it borders on torturous. My nipples are rocksolid, poking through the fabric of my dress as desperation fills me, and I grip my breasts when every inch of me screams to be touched.

But the high doesn’t last forever.

The tension that turned me to stone releases me from its hold. Then, the decadent ropes of pleasure I clung to like a lifeline are replaced with something else.

Contempt.

Toward my alpha, toward myself for allowing my carnal needs to overshadow my morals.

Damn him.

I sink into the chair, fighting the sudden urge to curl into myself and sleep. Then, I flirt with the idea a bit more closely when my eyes flutter closed. Surprisingly enough, what relaxes me is the oddly satisfying sound of Caspian finishing me off, collecting nearly every remnant of my climax with his tongue. Then, there’s the feel of heated kisses being placed against my inner thigh when he’s done.

Only now do I peer down on him, noting the longing in his eyes. It’s my hope that this encounter leaves him frustrated and horny, forced to makehimselfcome while inhaling my scent from his lips.

This is my one sense of leverage. The only means of feeling even remotely powerful.

My eyes are glued to him as he stands, but instead of handing over my panties, he stuffs them in his shirt pocket. Possibly for when he takes care of that pesky erection later.

He reaches for my hand, and I stare at his for several moments before giving in. His palm is warm against mine, and I note how I’ve used very little of my own strength to stand. It’s no secret that he’s strong, but it annoys me that I’m impressed.

I find myself accidentally caught in his stare, and it’s unbelievably hard to turn away. He takes advantage of this spellI’m under and steps closer, placing his hands against my waist, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth. I lose my breath, hating how that small gesture has made me crave more, has made me crave the feel of his mouth against mine.

As seems to be the norm, he senses my innermost desires, and acts upon them. Moist heat from his lips warms mine, a kiss scented with my own arousal, still lingering on his face and mouth. At first, I’m completely motionless, unreceptive to his brazen advance, but then I realize my lips are moving too, and my tongue enjoys the silken feel of his as they dance sensual circles around one another. He ends the kiss while I still want more, but I’m guessing that was the point.

“As you can see, I’m not only capable of bringing pain, Annalise. I’m quite skilled at giving pleasure, too,” he whispers against the rim of my ear. “I prefer to take my meals alone. However, if you’d ever like to join me for wine and…dessert…again, you know where to find me.”

Slowly, I back out of his grasp, holding his gaze as I question my sanity. Because as sure as my name is Annalise Breedlove, I’m seriously considering his offer.

Please, gods, let this temporary lapse in judgment just be the wine.

11

Choose

Annalise

This…isn’t me.

My eyes are locked on my reflection in the mirror, as I sit perched on an armless chair in front of the vanity. The stylist I’ve been appointed, Lady Eliza Gilreath, has me all dolled up, like a toy fresh out of the packaging. It’s barely nine o’clock in the morning and from the moment I rolled out of my new bed, and my feet touched the ridiculously plush carpet beneath it, the frenzy has been nonstop. For reference, I’m already fully madeup, stuffed into a corset, and literally stitched into a dress that’s been custom made just for me.

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