Page 49 of The Alpha Under My Bed

Because I needed this belt off. And Mal was the only one who might have a way to do it.

The scent of oil and metal filled the air, warm under the garage’s yellow lighting. Mal stood at his workbench, his back to me, broad shoulders flexing as he wiped grease from his hands with a rag. He didn’t turn when I stepped inside, didn’t acknowledge me immediately—just let the silence stretch, letting my own anger simmer.

Then, slowly, he turned, his eyes dragging over me in a slow, unreadable sweep. He didn’t say anything, just waited, his expression unreadable as I stood there, heat creeping up my neck.

I clenched my fists, swallowing down my pride, already mortified beyond belief. I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“I need your help,” I mumbled, barely able to get the words out before dropping my voice to a whisper, my face burning hotter than ever. “With a chastity belt.”

Mal’s brows lifted, his lips twitching. “What was that?”

I swallowed hard, shifting on my feet. “A chastity belt.”

His rare, amused smile appeared, slow and devastating. “You’re telling me you showed up at my garage, whispering about a chastity belt?”

I groaned, covering my face for a second before forcing myself to look at him again. “The guy I slept with ran out without unlocking it... and I’m stuck. Can you help?” I forced a weak laugh, rubbing the back of my neck.

One brow lifted. “What?”

“The belt...” My voice wavered, my face burning. None of this was coming out right. “You—you’re good with metal. You work on bikes. I thought maybe you might...” I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to finish. “You might have something that can get it off.”

He hummed, stepping closer, his scent curling around me, heavy with cedar and smoke. “Is that what you want, sweetheart? For me to cut it off?” His fingers grazed my waist, skimming the belt where it pressed flush against my body.

I sucked in a sharp breath, the words catching in my throat. “I don’t want it on me. I don’t want—” My voice faltered, trembling as the weight of what I was saying sank in. My face burned with humiliation, the rawness of it making me feel exposed. “—this.”

Mal tilted his head, his gaze soft but calculating, studying me with a careful intensity, as if weighing his response. There was something deeper in the way he looked at me, an unspokentension that wrapped around us like a thick, electric cord. Then, his lips quirked, his eyes darkening with amusement as he let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Didn’t know you were into this kind of thing, sweetheart. Should I be concerned?”

The words landed differently this time. The usual playful bite was gone, replaced by something heavier, something that made the air between us feel taut with unspoken things. This wasn’t the usual banter. It was something more—closer, sharper.

What he didn’t know, what I couldn’t tell him, was that I’d already spent years loving him. That this—asking for this—was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending it wasn’t breaking me apart.

Mal exhaled, shaking his head, but the smirk didn’t fully fade. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

Without a word, he grabbed a tool from the workbench and gestured toward the stool beside it. “Sit.”

I hesitated, my pulse skittering as he tapped the seat again. Reluctantly, I climbed onto it, hesitating before gripping the hem of my dress and lifting it just enough to reveal the top of the belt. My breath hitched when the cool air brushed against my thighs, making the situation feel even more real.

The belt left me utterly exposed—there was no mistaking the way his eyes darkened as he crouched before me, tool in hand.

He worked in silence at first, fingers brushing against my bare skin as he examined the belt, searching for weak points. My entire body was on fire, humiliation clawing up my throat. This was worse than anything else he had done—because now, I knew he knew.

And then it happened.

The vibrator kicked on.

My whole body jerked, a strangled sound escaping my lips as my thighs clenched instinctively. Mal didn’t react—didn’t smirk, didn’t tease—he just kept working, pretending like he wasn’taware of the way I had just arched against him, the way my breathing hitched and stuttered.

“Hold still,” he murmured, gripping my thigh to keep me steady.

I bit my lip hard enough to hurt, my fingers curling around the edge of the stool as another pulse of pleasure hit me straight to my core. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

“You alright, sweetheart?” His voice was smooth, unconcerned, but there was an edge to it, something knowing.

I wanted to die.

“Y-yeah,” I rasped, hating how breathless I sounded.

Mal made a small hum, adjusting the tool against the metal. “You’re shaking.”

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