Page 47 of Scent of Home

“Bend.”

I bend, and his hot breath hits my core. I squirm, paper falling from the wall as I curl my fingers.

“So pretty.”

I exhale shakily, trying and failing to stop myself from clenching down there.

He grips the material of my panties and pulls until they fall apart. I moan at the feel of his hot breath.

“This is better,” Shane murmurs.

His tongue flicks out, and I almost jump out of my skin. His hands grip me in a merciless hold, and he drags my hips back to him. And then the hot, searing, molten perfection of his tongue strokes between my lips. The feel of his beard is something I’ve never had before, and it drives me insane. I want to see him go feral and make me come on his face.

I let out a sigh as my eyes roll in my head. My fingers curl into claws on the wall. More paper floats down unheeded.

“You need to know why I can’t do this!” Shane growls into my cunt. The vibration of his words makes me clench again.

“Fine, I’m listening,” I pant.

“Don’t listen, feel.” Shane hisses and stands up. His fingers slide inside of me, and he pulls up until I’m standing on my tiptoes.

I moan as he leans over me. “Feels so good.”

He pulls out and slams them back in, curling them inside me, stroking me in places I haven’t been stroked for a while.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Shane whispers and bites my neck.

I moan and tilt my head, giving him better access.

“I lose control. I’ll hurt him.”

“Hurt me!” I beg, irrational and helplessly pushing my hips back to meet his brutal thrusts.

Shane pauses, but I let out a whine, and he starts up again. He increases his pace and then pulls his fingers out and shoves them in his mouth.

The loud rumble should be terrifying, and yet, it isn’t.

He spins me around and lifts me up, pinning me to the wall as he reaches with one hand to undo his pants. Now I see what he’s talking about. He’s nearly gone. His eyes are almost black, his face is a mask of such intense hunger that I almost don’t recognise him.

Rut! My mind whispers in awe.

He lines us up, and then his blue eyes that have turned to frigid obsidian glass meet mine. He pushes into me, slowly stretching me wide.

When he’s all the way in, he grips my hair and sucks hard on the side of my neck.

“Shane!”

“Alpha!” He corrects in a vicious growl.

“Alpha,” I whine. I need him to move. I need him to fuck me.

He rubs his face all over mine, and I realise that he’s scent marking me, and I struggle to be upset by it.

“Fuck me, make me yours,” I goad him.

He snarls, revealing white teeth. Then he kisses me, and all I can taste is pine. His beard is softer than I expect but so full of the scent of my arousal and desire that it’s like a powerful punch.

He pulls out and slams back in.

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