Page 37 of Claimed By the Cowboys
I cocked my head to the side. “What about it sets a bad example? That I’m enjoying myself? That alphas should treat an omega with kindness? Because that’s what your pack mates have been doing. You’re so full of shit, Clay.”
His eyes raked over me, his breathing increasing.
Was he going to throw me out? Yell at me? I wouldn’t have called Clay predictable, but there were a few things I expected from him.
His lips crashing down on mine so fiercely our teeth cracked together wasn’t one of them.
“You. Are. Infuriating,” he growled, his hands grasping at my hips. Despite the surly nature of his words, there was no real heat to them.
“And you’re a ray of sunshine,” I whispered breathlessly against his lips.
I wanted to pull away. Clay hadn’t exactly been kind to me, but there was no denying there was something oddly magnetic between us despite his grumpy, asshole behavior.
He was the polar opposite of Pack Adamar. Where they were clean-shaven, always wearing a suit and tidy, Clay was rugged. They were just mean, while he was surly and grumpy in a way that made me giggle instead of shrink in on myself.
Rugged wasn’t even a good enough word for it.
He was what an alpha was meant to be. Strong, tough. Even his scent was manlier than I was used to. Rich earth and smoke. It was what I imagined a country bonfire to smell like when the sun was setting and a cool evening was starting to set in.
My body reacted to him before my mind could even catch up with me. Perfume filled the air—my body was getting far too used to good dick and was getting excited at the drop of a hat.
He was also reacting to me, though. He may have pretended to be unbothered by me, but his cock was pressed against my stomach, his scent intensifying.
His facial hair tickled as we kissed, but I didn’t care one bit.
Clay Blackwood could devour me, and I would be a happy girl.
My hands clung to his neck, nails digging in, anchoring him to me.
One second, I was focused on his lips on mine, the next, I was airborne and being placed on the kitchen island. Clay stepped between my legs, the skirt of my sundress slid up my thighs easily so all that covered me was a tiny scrap of underwear.
One of his hands tangled in my hair, keeping his mouth on mine, while the other grasped at the naked flesh of my leg.
“You are so fucking maddening,” Clay growled, tearing his lips from mine and nipping at the sensitive flesh of my neck.Each little bite made my head swim, my body becoming languid. “But you taste so good,” he murmured against my skin.
“Fuck. I need—” I cut off with a pant. My vision was blurring, and all I could think about was the throbbing between my legs.
“You need my knot, don’t you?” he cooed, a smug grin on his face that if I wasn’t crazy with need, I probably would have smacked off him.
“Or I can go find one of the others.” I smirked.
My words were the proverbial red flag to the bull that was Clayton Blackwood. His teeth scraped along my throat as his fingers sank into me. “Mine,” he growled, his voice almost guttural.
That single word destroyed every last bit of resistance I was fighting to hold on to.
“Fuck,” I hissed as he stretched me with just his fingers, finding my G-spot with the uncanny skill most of his pack mates also seemed to possess.
I gasped as my back arched, my ass almost coming clean off the counter as my body convulsed from the simple touch.
My logical brain vacated—all I knew was that I needed more.
“You’re soaking my hand, duchess.”
His fingers pumped into me, the pace somehow too fast but also too slow. Adding a third finger, the pressure inside me started mounting for what I could already tell would be quite the explosion.
“Fuck me,” I begged, head thrown back, lost in sensation.
His fingers ripped away, and my pussy wept at the loss. I had been so full, so close, but cock would be much better.
