Page 18 of His Problem Alpha
“It’s not.” I lean down, my lips brushing his ear. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, letting me see you like this.”
Another shudder runs through him. A possessive instinct, dark and absolute, coils in my gut. I move up his body, my mouth finding the tender skin of his collarbone. I don’t just kiss it. I bite down. Hard. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a dark, bruising mark of my possession. He gasps, a sharp, pained sound, and I expect him to push me away.
Instead, his entire body arches into the bite, a silent, desperate plea for more.
The submission sends a bolt of pure ownership through me. He’s mine. In this room, in this heat, he’s mine. I bite him again, on his shoulder this time, leaving another mark. He whines, a sound of pure pleasure, and the last of my control evaporates.
“So good for me,” I continue, my hands sliding down to grip his hips. “So perfect, so wet and ready.”
He makes a sound that’s half sob, half moan, his hips bucking against me. “Please,” he gasps. “Stop talking and just—fuck me.”
I silence him with a kiss, positioning myself between his open thighs. The head of my dick nudges his entrance, and I push in slow, watching his face. His eyes roll back, lips parting on a silent gasp as I fill him. The tight heat of him nearly breaks me. Nothing has ever felt this good. I have to grit my teeth against the urge to just pound into him, to take and claim and ruin.
“Fuck,” I groan, dropping my forehead to rest against his. “You feel incredible.”
His hands clutch my shoulders, nails digging in. “Move,” he demands, his voice cracking. “Please, Alex, I need you to move.”
I obey, drawing back before pushing in again, deep and deliberate. I angle each thrust to hit that spot that makes his back arch. I’m learning what makes him fall apart, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Is this what you need?” I growl, my voice rough against his ear.
His eyes, hazy with pleasure, struggle to focus on mine. “Everything,” he chokes out. “Don’t stop.”
“That’s it,” I murmur against his throat, nipping at the skin there. “Take all of me.”
The praise keeps coming, an unstoppable flood. “So perfect, so tight. Taking my cock so well. My good omega.”
Each word pushes him closer. His eyes are glazed, lost. His body responds to my voice as much as my touch, clenching around me every time I tell him how good he is.
I feel my knot begin to swell, the thick ridge of it catching on his rim. The sensation is fucking incredible, his tight body resisting then yielding, again and again.
“Gonna knot you,” I warn him, my voice strained. “Gonna fill you up, keep you full of me.”
“Yes,” he moans, head thrashing on the pillow. “Yes, please, Alpha, knot me, fill me—”
His words shatter the last of my restraint. One hand slides up to his throat, not squeezing, just holding, feeling his pulse hammer under my thumb. His eyes fly open, locking with mine, and I see trust there. Surrender. It pushes me over the edge.
I thrust one last time, burying myself deep as my knot swells to its full size, locking us together. Devon cries out as his orgasm hits, his body clamping down around me, milking me. Therhythmic pulse of his inner walls around my knot rips my own release from me, and I come with a guttural groan, filling him in long, hot pulses.
We stay like that, frozen, locked together. Then he collapses, boneless and spent. I carefully shift us onto our sides, my knot still lodged inside him, binding us.
His eyes are closed, his face relaxed in a way I’ve never seen. All the sharp edges are gone. He looks younger, and something fierce and protective roars to life in my chest.
My hand strokes his back before I can stop myself. Words of protection slip out, too low for him to hear. The walls I’ve built for six years, brick by painful brick, are crumbling to dust. I should be running. I should be terrified. Instead, I pull him closer.
I should be thinking about how to get out of this, how to rebuild my defenses. But as his breathing evens out into sleep, his body warm and trusting against mine, I can’t make myself be the person I’ve been since Ethan died—the guy who keeps his door locked, who hasn’t let anyone stay the night in six years.
I press my nose into his hair, breathing in our mingled scents. For the first time since the accident, I can breathe without it hurting. The constant, grinding noise of guilt that’s been my shadow for so long is gone, replaced by a warmth that feels dangerously like hope.
My entire life has been a silent prayer for punishment, but this feels like forgiveness.
Devon
The sheets are tangled and damp, and they smell like him—ozone, coffee, and something so deeply alpha it makes my teeth ache.
I blink, and for the first time in days, my head feels clear. The desperate, clawing need that’s consumed me for what feels like an eternity has faded to a dull, throbbing ache deep in my muscles. Sunlight filters through the blinds, casting thin stripes across Alex’s sleeping form beside me. My body feels heavy, used in ways I’ve never experienced before. I can finally think again.
And that’s the problem.
