Page 161 of Ruled By The Alpha

Oh.Oh.

Rosemary’s cheeks flushed. She’d known such things were done, but to actuallytry it out…

“Now, Rosemary.” Samson’s voice descended to a timbre that she felt in her bones. It spurred her into action, and she abandoned her perch on top of his muscled slab of a body and moved to the head of the bed. She positioned herself as directed, bracing her palms on the headboard and meeting his eyes. Straddling his face felt odd and unnatural, and strangely—considering her control over the situation—vulnerable.

Samson’s neck flexed upwards, seeking her body with a ravenous gusto he’d never shown toward her cooking. Stillan inch or two beyond his reach, his neck tendons taut and straining, he snapped, “You’re driving me fucking crazy. Give me a taste.Now.”

The coarseness of his words swept away her remaining hesitation, and she sank into this entirely new kind of embrace. Immediately Samson dove in. His tongue, strong and determined, swiped through every tuck and crevice. Rosemary gasped, the sensation nearly knocking her off her seat, every touch of that seeking tongue heightening the next. His lips joined in, mouthing and sucking as he went before fastening on her sensitive nub and making her vision white-out with pleasure.

And thesounds. It wasn’t enough to gorge himself on her body like a starving man, but he guzzled and lapped like a wild animal, snuffling and grunting in between muffled words of praise and appreciation.So delicious. You taste so fucking good. I knew you would, I knew you’d taste like a dream.

Nuzzling into her from nose to chin, he left no part of her unexplored and no part of his face uninvolved. Rosemary’s body sang its own song of gratitude. Knuckles white on the headboard, she bucked and thrashed, insensible and unashamed in her joy.

How had she lived this long withoutthis? The voice inside of her cooed and squealed, delighted as she succumbed to wave after wave of pleasure at Samson’s touch.

Yes, give it all to Alpha. He’ll give you everything you need.

Burning up, her sex on fire, her nerves in shambles, cries and incoherent moans left her lips as the climax seized her body and a deep, pulsating bliss exploded from within. She called out to God, to the heavens, and tohim—to Samson, to this man, thisAlphawho’d brought her to a new frontier of ecstasy and sweet, delicious relief.

Sometime later, panting and gasping, Rosemary turned the corner from sated to completely wrung out. She’d lost track of the number of peaks she’d climbed. One daisy-chained to the next to the next, and all she could remember was the flowing certainty that what they’d donemeantsomething she couldn’t yet understand.

Easing back on his chest, she saw his face, glossy with evidence, but nonetheless handsome for it. His tongue darted out, obscenely licking and savoring any stray drops it could find. His lips toyed with a smug, self-satisfied tilt, communicating a message that rocked her to her core:she might be the one on top, but he was the one in control.

Her stomach plummeted. What had she done?

This thing inside her, this restlessness, thisvoicethat drove her to climb aboard and engage in such unabashed carnality… Was that trulyher?Had she so easily betrayed Papa’s teachings and plummeted headfirst into some abyss, leaving her simple life behind? Or was it some alteration, some intoxication, some delinquency brought to the surface in the presence of this inscrutable Alpha, who affected her to such a degree,all while tied to a bed?

“Rosemary.” Samson’s eyes reached for hers as if sensing the panic constricting her chest. “Don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, scrambling off and snatching her nightgown from the floor. Turning her back, she fled across the room, out the door, and into the cold, cold night.

Chapter 8

Samson

Gray dawn filtered through the windows and declared the start of a new day. Somehow, despite his best efforts, he’d fallen asleep. After Rosemary had high-tailed it out of the room, he’d yelled himself hoarse, commanding her to come back before resolving to stay awake and await her return. Neither intervention worked, and his body eventually gave way.

Eyes popping open, he cursed himself for succumbing to unconsciousness when his Omega was somewhere out there alone and hurting.

His Omega.

The phrase centered his reeling mind, bestowing a sense of strength and lessening the despair that had been his bedfellow during the night. Rosemary was his. He’d known somehow, and for days now, but watching her passion ignite in response tohimwas proof beyond proof.

His dick, inspired by the erotic recollections, gave an interested kick. Unconsciously Samson reached for himself, startled fully awake when his hand moved freely and easily to make contact with his own flesh. He sat up, clumsy and stiff after so long in one position. The scabs of his wound pulled, making him wince, but he couldn’t spare any concern for that right now.

For whatever reason, he wasfree. Free to go to Rosemary, to soothe her, to claim her and give her his knot. Blood rampaged toward his groin, his brain flooding with images of all the wayshe could touch her now that his body once again was his own. He’d make it so good for her, so perfect, soright, she’d never again doubt the realness of their connection, never again doubt the blessing fate had handed them in guiding him here.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he reveled at the icy feel of the floor as his eyes swung around the room in search of his Omega.

“There are clothes for you.” Rosemary’s voice rose like smoke from beside the smoldering hearth. Her form, shadowed in the dark corner, was a faint outline in the watery light.

With a start, he noticed what she held in her hands: the long, tapered barrel of an antique firearm aimed at his chest. Her grip clenched on the weapon, training it steadily on him. Guns were rare in their world, and ammunition virtually nonexistent. But Rosemary and her father had been secluded; it was entirely possible they had an ammo supply, and a working gun for protection or hunting.

A searing fright chased away his elated anticipation. Feet firmly braced against the floor, Samson held up his palms. “What’s going on?”

Rosemary stood from her crouch, the barrel never wavering or wobbling. Clearly she’d had experience wielding the weapon, which cranked his fear up another level. Could a rifle take down a full-grown Alpha? Would she shoot him? Did he really want to risk it?

“There are clothes for you,” she said again, flat and emotionless. “Put them on, and then leave and never come back.”

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