Page 11 of The Alpha's Gamble
So I licked his knot. Mouth open, tongue curling around him, lapping at him like an ice cream cone.
His knot had a slightly different texture from the rest of his cock: even firmer, with skin stretched tight over the thickness of him. I knew how mine felt in my hand, but it’d never occurred to me to have someone lick it or suck on it, as I found I’d started to do when my tongue got tired. Not quite hard enough to leave a hickey, although a hickey on an alpha would heal almost within seconds. But enough to really feel the texture of him, to taste the salt of his skin and the tension under it.
MacKenna muttered something I couldn’t catch even with my enhanced hearing. I tilted my head enough that I could glance up at him through my lashes.
Okay, that was more like it. The way MacKenna gazed down at me, avidly, like he’d never seen anything he desired more…I had him hooked. He might be forcing me into this, and I might be on my knees licking his knot like a fucking whore, but those dark eyes overlaid with a brilliant alpha glow, and his parted lips, and the flush along his high cheekbones—that all told a different story.
I watched him as I licked and nuzzled at his knot, alternating laving it with my tongue and mouthing over it. And he watched me, his hand still gripping me hard, fingers clenching and unclenching as my mouth moved on him.
After a while I almost forgot the discomfort in my cramping legs and the weirdness of my position sprawled in his lap. My hands rested on his thighs, and that started to feel natural.
It all started to feel natural. Like I’d fallen into some kind of fugue, existing only in the moment. When he finally tugged on my hair to lift my head away from him, I startled a little bit, blinking. Gods. What the fuck had I been doing?
I looked down at what I’d been doing. His cock had started to soften, and the knot was going down. It still looked absurdly large—and threatening, because I knew exactly how short an alpha’s refractory period could be.
MacKenna took his hand away. And that startled me even more. I hadn’t realized how much the heat and strength of his grip had been grounding me and keeping me from panicking.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he said, voice gravelly and low. “The master bedroom’s mine. You can have the other. Someone will bring your things from your previous suite in a few minutes.”
Relief washed over me. He didn’t mean to keep me in his bedroom with him, then. Which meant he wouldn’t be repeating this all night, and also meant I’d get some actual privacy, time alone to rest and freak out and plan and get my head on straight, probably not in that order. But maybe I’d come up with an order once I had a second to think.
I realized I still had my hands on him, and I jerked them back like his legs had burned me, clenching my fists against the lingering feeling of his heat against my palms. Getting up could possibly have been more awkward if I’d tried very, very hard, but maybe not. I’d need to brace myself on him. Fuck that. I used the floor instead, which meant bending down more, and then boosting up with my legs trying to give out on me…
And then I’d wobbled upright, and he’d slouched back into the sofa looking completely satisfied.
With the damp front of my jeans at his eye level.
Alpha senses were all sharper than other people’s, and that included smell.
I could scent my own come.
And so, I had no doubt, could he. As well as see the darker stain on the front of my jeans where it had soaked through.
MacKenna smiled slowly, a bared-teeth grin, but the smile reached his eyes this time. They crinkled around the edges, and sparkled, and—fuck, it hit me like a punch to the gut. This was why I’d hit on him ten years ago. Because he was an unbelievably, almost unbearably attractive man.
I didn’t wait for whatever caustic remark he might’ve made if I’d given him the chance. My cheeks had gone hot, and I knew my eyes probably looked like saucers.
Instead I fled, stumbling around the sofa and toward the doorway he’d come out of, which I knew from the similar layout of my own suite upstairs had to lead to the bedrooms. His low chuckle pursued me down the hall. I dashed into the empty bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me. And then I dropped my forehead against it, heart pounding, lungs laboring.
Maybe you’ll be able to work it off in a few months.
Well, fuck me.
Literally.
Chapter 4
So Sue Me
Waiting for the other shoe to drop was fucking torture. I took a long, boiling-hot shower, shuddering as I scrubbed the dried come off of my groin and shuddering again as the vigorous rubbing started to get me hard again.
I gathered my suitcases from the hallway where they’d been left while I showered, and I got a pair of clean underwear, thank all the gods above and below. I didn’t unpack any more than that. My stuff had an odd scent to it, as if whoever had packed it for me had been wearing an unusually offensive cologne. It made my nose tingle, and I shoved the bags into the closet and shut the door, hoping the smell would dissipate overnight.
And then I slept, for some definition of sleep, tossing and turning and waking up twisted into a pretzel.
When I dared to poke my nose out of my room halfway through the next morning, hunger finally winning over wanting to pull the blankets over my head and stay there forever, the suite was silent. The kitchenette yielded nothing more than an empty mini fridge running almost as loudly as my growling stomach, a fully stocked coffee tray (although MacKenna had left the pot dirty but empty, the asshole), and a few bottles of water.
Not even the nice kind. Plain bottled water, like from the grocery store.
