Page 64 of The Alpha Under My Bed

Another text.

Unknown Number: I’ll come when I feel like it.

A whimper ripped from my throat.

I clenched the sheets, panting, my body already shaking as the vibrations started low—just a cruel, teasing pulse that wasn’t enough to send me over the edge but more than enough to make my thighs clench.

No, no, no?—

I bit my lip hard, trying to hold back the pathetic noises clawing up my throat.

Another text.

Unknown Number: Be a good girl. Hold it for me.

The belt pulsed higher.

I screamed into my pillow.

My body was burning from the inside out, a fever without relief, the vibrations buried against my clit tormenting me with sharp pulses of pleasure before cutting off again, leaving me wrecked. Shaking. Whimpering into the blankets.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

I twisted against the sheets, frantic, my hands clawing at the waistband of the belt, digging my nails into the metal. I yanked, I twisted, I practically sobbed as I tried to pull the damn thing off, my slick coating the inside, making everything feel hotter, wetter, more unbearable.

I needed more.

I needed him.

The thought was a shock to my system, a jagged bolt of humiliation cracking through my haze. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except relief. I was losing my mind, slipping between the cracks of desperation and madness, my whole body tight, strung out, on the verge of breaking apart?—

And then?—

A floorboard creaked.

My entire body locked up.

Every nerve ending seized, my chest going tight as my pulse roared in my ears. The rush of blood was so loud it almost drowned out the deafening silence that followed.

No.

No, no, no.

I sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath, my thighs still trembling, my fingers tangled in the sheets. I barely managed to lift my head, blinking through the haze of heat and frustration, my vision blurred?—

But even through the thick, pulsing fog of my arousal, I saw him.

A dark silhouette leaning against the doorframe.

Watching.

A bolt of something cold shot through me—fear, shame, something deeper, something worse.

I went rigid, my breath catching in my throat, my whole body locked in place.

He didn’t move.

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