Page 56 of The Alpha's Gamble
Oh, fuck, I wanted him to fuck me over the barso badly, and whether he hated me or not, I hated myself enough for the both of us. I pushed back against him, shamelessly rubbing my ass over his erection like a cat in heat. Declan let out a soft sound, his arm tightening around my waist.
“I might not actually hate you,” he said roughly, reluctantly, as if the words were being pulled out of him. “I hate—fuck, maybe I do. I don’t know. But it doesn’t seem to matter as much. And I missed—fuck, Blake.”
He bit down on my neck, releasing his grip nearly as quickly as he’d sunk his teeth almost through my skin, but it was enough to have me hanging limp between his arm and the bar, all my instincts telling me to submit. My head hung down between my shoulders, and I arched even more, practically begging him to get rid of the fabric between us and fill me up, complete me. My cock was trying its best to punch a hole right through my trousers, although—score one for the tailor. Even with its alpha strength, it seemed doomed to fail, and the constriction hurt like hell.
That edge of pain only took me higher, strung so tight I’d started to gasp for air. Sweat trickled down my spine.
“I missed your voice,” he growled. “I missed—you.”
That did it. With a moan, I pitched forward, held up only by his arm and my embedded claws, and came so hard inside my perfectly tailored tuxedo trousers that my vision went white, slamming into the bar and rattling all the bottles and glassware. My knees gave out. I hung there whimpering, supported by his strength, and when he bit at my throat and rutted against me I couldn’t do anything but take it, tossed back and forth like a rag doll.
“Fuck,” he said, jerking his mouth away from my throbbing skin, cock still hard against the crease of my ass, pressing on my hole enough to make me grit my teeth with want. “If I fuck you, if I knot you, damn it, there’s no time. We’re actually late.” He let out a shaky laugh. “I’d give nearly anything to be inside you right now.”
I blinked my eyes, getting a little focus and a little clarity.
“You can have the next best thing,” I slurred. “Put me on my knees. I might need help getting my claws out of the bar first.”
“No, not on your knees.” He pulled back enough that I could sway myself upright, and then he wrapped a big hand around my wrist, massaging me until the muscles relaxed enough to let my claws retract. I winced at the sound of shredding wood, and splinters rained down all over the floor and the tops of my shoes. “Come on,” he added, before I could start frantically apologizing for ruining his bar. “On the couch.”
He led me there, arm wrapped firm and warm around me, but I stumbled as we reached the sofa, trying to go down on my knees in front of it and getting pushed into sitting on it instead. He didn’t want me to suck his cock after all? My mouth watered, longing for the thick length of him pressing down on my tongue and painting it with his pre-come, pushing into my throat and filling me completely.
“But I thought—”
“No,” he said firmly. “Not like that. I said not on your knees.” He braced one of his own next to me, his hands working at his belt and zipper. “You almost fell over a second ago. Lean back and open your mouth for me, darlin’.”
He’d only called me that a few times, and he’d always been mocking me, taunting me with an endearment that was anything but.
This time it almost sounded real. I let myself fall back, gazing up at him looming over me: jaw set, eyes blazing with something I couldn’t name but that had my head whirling.
Declan braced himself on the back of the sofa with one hand, leaning down over me, his cock springing free to point right at my eager mouth. The air felt thick, filled with the scent of my own come soaking the front of my boxer briefs and now the scent of him, too, rich and spicy, and the hot bite of his alpha magic. The flushed head of his cock brushed my lips. I darted out my tongue and tasted him at last, moaning with the pleasure of it, reaching up to grasp his hips and keep him where I wanted him.
My tongue played around his cockhead, tracing the glans, pushing into the slit. Declan groaned and leaned down to wrap his free hand in my hair, the overlong strands slipping through his fingers. It didn’t feel like coercion. It felt like a plea for more.
I gave him more, letting him fill my mouth, push into my throat, working my tongue over the underside of his cock and wrapping my lips around him to give him a tight hole to fuck. My claws tried to come out again, and I nearly choked when I lost my concentration on blowing him in the effort of keeping them in. I couldn’t ruin his tux. It was the same designer as mine. That’d be a travesty, and then we wouldn’t just be late, and Declan would be so angry, and…
He pulled back, letting me breathe my fill, and his fingers stroked over my scalp so gently I could hardly stand it.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not—stop thinking so damn much,” he said quietly, voice hoarse. “Don’t be afraid.”
I glanced up at him through my lashes.
No, I wasn’t afraid anymore. Not when I saw the way he looked at me, lips parted and eyes glowing faintly, as if my face was the only thing in the universe.
The very first night I’d been in this suite I’d sucked his cock right here on the sofa. Only then, he’d been sprawled at his ease and I’d been his unwilling supplicant, crouched on the floor terrified and furious.
When he pushed into my mouth again, I opened for him more than willingly, moaning around him and milking the head of his cock with the muscles of my throat.
It didn’t take him long at all to come, with a low mutter of my name and a clench of the hand in my hair, almost hard enough to hurt.
Almost hard enough to make me come again myself, if my cock hadn’t still been completely spent. But a spasming shudder went through my lower body all the same as he spilled down my throat, pulse after pulse of slippery heat. I swallowed and swallowed, but when he pulled back at last, he still left a trace on my lower lip.
Before I could lick it off, he let go of my head and brought his hand to my chin, gripping me with his fingers and rubbing his thumb over my mouth, transferring those few drops to his own skin. He let me go and reached for my neck.
Was he…yes, he was. Declan swiped his thumb down the side of my neck beneath my ear, right where cologne would go.
Scent-marking me.
I stared up at him, mouth open, not sure whether to be delighted or absolutely irate. Well, to be fair, getting that angry would’ve taken brain cells, which I’d currently run out of.
