Page 112 of Ruled By The Alpha

“Open. Your. Mouth.”

He punctuates each word with a deceptively slow glide of his tip across my lips and a tightening of his fist in my hair.

Saliva fills my mouth and salty fluid stings my nostrils, but I beg him with the only tool I have—I blink up at him and pray he relents.

He doesn’t. His hand leaves his jerking, terrifying shaft, letting it bob against my chin as he reaches down and digs his fingertips into my cheeks. Pain builds until my jaws part to avoid cracking beneath his brutal grasp.

Warm syrup lands on my tongue, the startling softness of his cockhead almost tickling the sensitive insides of my squeezed lips. He doesn’t push past my teeth, but purrs until I stop pushing against his thighs, too overwhelmed by his delicious tang and deep rumble to know what to do. Releasing my jaw, he strokes himself until viscous fluid drips from the corners of my mouth and my breathing turns ragged with confusion. Heat, delight, and fear all whirl together, his flavor soothing, yet too much, and I hover between decisions, frozen in place.

If I spit out his offering, he’ll no doubt make me regret it. But I can’t swallow it. My stomach feels like a lead ball.

He tilts my head farther back and drops his cock, smearing his seed into my skin.

“Good little omega. Swallow.”

Panic rises, my stomach hurting worse with each passing moment. His expression tightens.

His callused palm covers the entire bottom half of my face. He pulls me to my feet using his hold on my hair and face and bends down to lick my earlobe. The unexpected, sensual caress startles a choked cough from me. His palm prevents me from spewing my mouthful, forcing me to swallow so I don’t choke.

In the same way the bath loosened my muscles, his essence softens the ball in my stomach until the pain fades to a memory, leaving a heavy satisfaction behind. I suck in a startled breath when he captures my earlobe between his teeth and runs the tip of his tongue over my trapped flesh.

Lightning liquifies my insides, chills sweeping up and down my spine while tiny, nibbling creatures dance just under my skin.

The itching sensation returns, but the streaks of erotic chaos spearing through me from his teeth, tongue, and seed make it so hot, it seems like tiny insects sting me.

The world shifts until the only thing I have to cling to is my tormentor. He surrounds me with his arms, filling my addled brain with ridiculous thoughts.

He makes the warmest, hardest, yet silkiest nest I’ve ever felt. I like it.

My head drops, landing on his solid chest as my adrenaline fades and leaves me boneless.

“What’s your name, little omega?”

I shiver despite being surrounded by warmth, his rumble causing a cascade of sensations to ripple down my spine.

“Char.”

My fingers twitch against his arm as he bends and moves with odd little jerks. When I peel my lids high enough to understand our surroundings, I realize he’s sitting with his back in the middle of the headboard, cradling me in his lap.

He strengthens his rumble, making the world fade further away.

“Next time, Char, I’ll come straight down your throat and fill your belly to the brim with my seed.”

A whimper breaks through my haze of sleep, his promise filling my dreams with lurid shadows and dark heat.

I slip into an exhausted slumber, my mind weary and body wrung out. The vision of a massive shadow looming over me haunts me, fear coiling my stomach into knots until his thick, veiny shaft emerges from his ghostly hand. He strokes and purrs and murmurs filthy words, squeezing the bulbous head of his cock. I lie pliant, caught between terror and longing as this phantom creature prepares to coat me with his seed.

Tawny eyes emerge from the shadow. My chest splits open.

I snap awake, sweaty, hot, and confused.

The cool rim of a cup presses against my lips, followed by even cooler water on my tongue. With greedy gulps, I wrapboth hands around the glass, encompassing the masculine hand already holding it as well, until not a single drop remains.

I blink as my surroundings come into focus. I’m still cocooned in the tanker’s lap, the sticky coating on my skin slimy with my sweat, the water doing little to ease the burning in my torso.

The alpha sets the cup down on the floor beside the bed, and a small sound leaks from me as my bladder complains. His orange-brown eyes peruse my face before he stands, lifting me as though I weigh nothing, and carries me to the room with the tub.

He catches my glance at the empty basin, but sets me down next to the open water closet and pushes me toward the toilet.

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