Page 31 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

Colt.

I bite my lip, my eyes flicking toward the small window across the room. The faint light of the lanterns outside filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the floor. He’s probably back at the workshop by now, working on that projector like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just turn my entire world upside down with the way he looked at me, the way he said my name like it was something sacred.

My heart beats faster at the thought of him—his broad shoulders, the rough edge of his voice, the way his scent lingered in the air between us, warm and intoxicating. It’s not just his presence that gets under my skin; it’s the way he sees me, the way he makes me feel like more than just the dutiful daughter, the responsible teacher, the omega everyone relies on.

He makes me feel wanted. Desirable.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I cross my arms over my chest, trying to fend off the heat creeping up my neck. But it’s no use. The memory of his fingers brushing against mine, the way his lips curved into that maddening smirk, is already seared into my brain, refusing to let go.

I lie back on the bed, my head hitting the pillow with a soft thud. My legs dangle over the edge, my body still thrumming with the energy I haven’t been able to shake since he walked me home. I should be angry—at him for distracting me, at my parents for keeping me in the dark, at myself for letting him get to me like this.

But I’m not angry. Not really.

I’m restless. Aching.

I close my eyes, my hands falling to my sides as I let out a slow, shaky breath. The shadows in the room seem to press closer, wrapping around me like a cocoon, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the memory of him—the way he looked at me, the way his voice dipped low when he asked if he could walk me home. The way his lips hovered just close enough to kiss mine but didn’t, leaving me yearning, unfulfilled.

Wanting. Wanting, wanting…wanting it all.

I suck in a breath as I hesitantly move my hand to the hem of my dress, pulling it up my thigh. I keep my eyes closed and try to remember how Colt’s hand felt against my face for that brief moment at the door…calloused, big, warm. I pretend the hand dragging up my thigh is that hand.

My brow furrows; my lips part.

“Colt,” I breathe.

I can picture him here, in this room, kneeling at the side of my bed. In the fantasy, his eyes are bright, luminous, partially shifted. His scent suddenly floods my senses, and even though I know he’s not here–that scent is in my hair, on my clothes–it helps make it all more real.

“Say the word,” his voice echoes in my head. “And I’ll kiss you.”

“Kiss me,” I ask.

My fingers slip beneath my panties to find my clit and my back bows off the bed, my other hand curling against the smooth, neat duvet. His hand…it would feel rougher than this, more commanding, hotter. But his tongue…what would that feel like?

It would feel so good. So good…so good.

My heart throbs in my chest, my breath hitching as the fantasy continues to play out. I can see his eyes darken, feel the heat rolling off him in waves. My fingers move faster, mimicking the rhythm I imagine his would have.

"Colt," I moan again, my voice barely above a whisper.

His lips would be on mine, devouring me, his tongue in my mouth. I bite my lip so hard that I break the skin, tasting copper, needing his kiss, his touch. I imagine his fingers exploring my body, trailing fire wherever they touch.

“Is this what you want?” the fantasy asks.

“Yes,” I groan. “Yes…”

I gasp at the wave of pleasure that courses through me, the image of Colt boxing me in with his arms. I wonder what his body would look like, feel like—where those tattoos go—and I give myself license to picture at all. I’ve never seen a cock in real life, only in books, but I know his would be big and hard and?—

"Colt," I whimper, my fingers finding my entrance…pushing inside, stretching me. “Oh god.”

In my daydream, he's leaning over me, whispering dirty words in my ear. That tone he gets—rough, conspiratorial—I imagine it telling me to spread my legs for him, telling me I’m a good girl…his good girl. His fingers trace down my neck and along my collarbone. I shudder at the thought, my chest heaving as I lean into the ghost of his touch.

“Gonna knot you,” he growls in my ear, and I can almost feel his breath on my neck. “Breed you.”

“Damn it,” I hiss, my fingers stretching. I add another, pumping them into myself. I’m so close, but it’s not enough. I reach up with my free hand and claw at the buttons on my dress, finally getting it open just enough to twist my own nipple. “Yes…yes!”

I imagine the sound of his grunt, the feel of his teeth grazing my neck in that moment of exquisite surrender. I imagine the way his body would press against mine, heavy and demanding. His hand would be on my breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak just like I am doing now.

"Colt." The name comes out as a strangled plea as I arch off the bed, my fingers moving faster. "Please."

---