Page 67 of The Alpha Under My Bed

MALCOLM

Ellie’s whole body trembled,her breath coming in ragged little gasps, fingers twisting in the sheets as if she could anchor herself—as if there were any saving her now.

There wasn’t.

I took my time, watching her struggle against the inevitable, still clinging to the illusion of power, still fighting, as though she had any control in this moment.

But she didn’t.

I reached down, letting my knuckles graze along her throat, lingering just above the mark I had left—mymark.

She flinched as if struck, a choked sound escaping her lips, a mix of humiliation, shock, and something darker—something raw.

I watched with a strange fascination as she tried to squeeze her thighs together, desperate to push it all away, to fight the inevitable. But the belt—mybelt—held her in place.

A smirk tugged beneath the mask, and I let it grow.

“My poor girl,” I murmured, my voice distorted through the skull mask, low and taunting.

Her body shuddered in response.

I traced the faint ridges of my teeth marks, slow and deliberate, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips.

She tried to turn her head away, her breath sharp, ragged, but I caught her chin, forcing her to face me.

“Ah, ah,” I purred, my voice like velvet, “Don’t be shy, sweetheart.”

She whimpered, a sound that twisted something deep inside me.

I pressed my thumb to her lips, parting them just enough to taste the tremble in her breath. Instinct. Her body knew what it wanted, even if her mind still scrambled to deny it.

Her eyes, hazy and clouded, looked up at me—pupils wide, swallowing the color from her irises.

Her breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sob and a moan?—

And the belt pulsed again.

She broke—shattered—her body arching violently, a guttural sob escaping her lips as the pleasure crashed over her, relentless and unforgiving. Her hands dug into the blankets, searching for anything to hold onto as the waves of sensation ripped through her again and again, each pulse driving her further over the edge.

Her body fought it. I felt it in every tremble, every frantic tug to pull away, even as her hips betrayed her, bucking into the relentless vibrations.

She was desperate.

Ruined.

I flipped her with a sharp, fluid motion, pressing her face into the blankets, the weight of my body looming over her, my hand splayed between her shoulder blades, pinning her there.

She gasped, her body jerking beneath my grip, but I didn’t relent. My mask came off just slightly—just enough to drag my tongue over the mark I had left.

The reaction was immediate.

She screamed, the sound ragged and raw, as if every nerve in her body was on fire.

A full-body shudder wracked her—too intense, too much—as if every inch of her had been ignited in flames. Her hands clawed at the nest beneath her, grasping for something, anything, but it was useless.

No relief. No escape.

Just me.

---