Page 30 of His Problem Alpha
"We go at your pace," I tell him, my thumbs tracing circles on the inside of his wrists. His pulse jumps. "Whatever you want."
"What if I don't know what I want?" His voice is a whisper.
"Then we figure it out together." I tug him gently until he's straddling my lap, his knees on either side of my hips. "We explore."
His breath hitches. His hands rest on my shoulders for balance. I feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of his sweatpants, the slight tremor in his thighs.
"Explore," he repeats, his eyes darkening. "I like the sound of that."
I lean in, my lips brushing against his. The kiss is softer than anything we've shared before. He melts against me with a small sound that makes my heart stutter. His hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens. Unlike our desperate collision in the kitchen, this is deliberate—a slow burn building with each second. I take my time, mapping his mouth, memorizing the small sounds he makes when I nip at his lower lip.
We break apart, both breathing hard. His pupils are huge, just a thin ring of brown around black. His lips are red and swollen. He looks drunk on sensation, and knowing I did that to him makes me want to do it again.
"Lie back," I murmur, guiding him onto the bed. He goes willingly. I move over him, caging his body with mine. "Give me your hands."
He lifts his arms without hesitation. I gather his wrists in one of my hands and pin them gently above his head. He's open, vulnerable, completely at my mercy. My alpha instincts howl with satisfaction—he trusts me enough to surrender.
"Is this okay?" I ask, needing to be sure.
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yes."
"If you want me to stop, at any point, just say so."
"I won't want you to stop," he says, a hint of his sass returning. "But noted."
I smile and lower my head to his neck. I breathe him in. My nose traces the curve of his throat to the sensitive spot just below his ear. When my lips close over it, he gasps, his body arching into mine.
"You remember," he murmurs, surprised.
"I remember everything," I tell him, and it's the truth. "I remember how sensitive you are right... here."
I nip the junction of his neck and shoulder. He makes a choked sound, his body jerking under mine.
"And here," I continue, my free hand sliding under his shirt to find the spot just below his ribs. "And especially here."
I shift down, pushing his shirt up. My tongue traces the line of his hip bone, and he makes a sound that's half laugh, half moan.
"Ticklish?" I ask, smiling up at him.
"No," he lies, then yelps when I do it again. "Okay, maybe a little."
I chuckle against his skin, enjoying this. It’s not antagonism, not desperate need, not angry passion. This is new. Dangerous in its intimacy.
I map his body with my hands and mouth. I learn he’s sensitive along his ribs, likes when I use my teeth on his nipples, trembles when I kiss the inside of his thighs. Each discovery is a victory, a piece of knowledge I hoard like treasure.
By the time I pull his sweatpants down, he's a writhing, desperate mess. His cock is hard and leaking, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. My mouth waters.
"Alex," he gasps, his voice strained. "Please."
"Please what?" I ask, my breath ghosting over his erection. "Tell me what you want, Devon."
"Your mouth," he says, the words rushing out. "I want your mouth on me."
I reward his honesty by taking him in one smooth motion, swallowing him until he hits the back of my throat. The sound he makes is inhuman, a high, keening wail that I feel in my bones. His hands strain against my grip, but I hold him firm.
"Oh god," he chokes out, his head thrashing on the pillow. "Alex, fuck, your mouth—"
I hum around him, the vibration making him buck up into my throat. I relax my jaw to take him deeper. He tastes addictive—salt, musk, and something that's just Devon. I could do this for hours, just to hear the sounds he makes, just to feel him fall apart.
