Page 39 of Roulette Rodeo
Large hands clamp onto my hips with bruising force, and he yanks me down onto his lap with a growl that vibrates through his entire chest. The sound is inhuman, primal, the kind of noise that makes lesser alphas bare their throats in submission. It rolls through the casino like thunder, and I feel several alphas actually step back.
Mine, that growl portrays to this room of Alphas who believe they can have a chance at claiming me.
I'm positioned perfectly—or imperfectly, depending on your perspective.My core pressed against the obvious bulge in his expensive slacks, the heat of him burning through the fabric. He's huge, hard, and the pressure against my sensitive flesh makes me bite back a moan.
But I'm not some simpering omega who's going to melt at the first alpha growl.
I tsked, lifting one finger to press against his lips. They're softer than they look, and I can feel his breath hot against my fingertip.
"Now, now, cowboy," I say, my voice carrying in the silence. Every word is a performance, but the tremor underneath is real. "If you want me to ride you like a rodeo, you'd best be ready to put all bets on the line to claim me."
His lips curve against my finger, and I feel more than hear his chuckle. Dark, amused, dangerous.
I pull my finger away and do something that shocks even me.
My hand goes to his throat.
Not choking—I couldn't actually hurt him if I tried.But I push, firm and deliberate, forcing this massive alpha to leanback in his chair. The fact that he lets me, that this mountain of muscle and tactical training moves at the pressure of my small hand, sends a thrill through me that has nothing to do with fear.
Gasps echo through the casino. Someone drops a glass, the shatter loud in the silence.
An omega.
Putting her hand on an alpha's throat.
In public.
During a claim.
I might as well have spit in God's face.
But he doesn't look angry. If anything, his eyes burn hotter, prouder. Like I've just passed some test I didn't know I was taking.
I lean in, decision made, consequences be damned.
I'm going to kiss this alpha in front of Vegas's most dangerous men. I'm going to stake my own claim, virgin or not, owned or not. I'm going to?—
Our lips crash together, and thought becomes impossible.
This kiss is nothing like the storage closet. That was exploration, discovery. This is war.
I pour everything into it—three years of captivity, twenty-four years of waiting, a lifetime of wanting something I couldn't name until I tasted him. My tongue tangles with his, messy and desperate and probably terrible technique, but I don't care. I kiss him like I'm drowning and he's air. Like I'm starving and he's a feast. As though I'm trying to crawl inside his skin and stay there.
His hands on my thighs tighten to the point of pain, fingertips digging into soft flesh hard enough to leave marks.
Tomorrow I'll have ten perfect bruises, evidence of this moment branded into my skin.
And that brand of ownership against my flesh dares to excite me.
Wet, loud, desperate, the lock of our mouths is so savage I feel spit string between us when we break for half a second, oxygen-less and gasping, then crash together again, twice as hard. I can taste him—bourbon and smoky, the faint electric tang of expensive aftershave and buried somewhere underneath his cologne mixed aroma, the sharp ozone of gun oil and the forest musk unique to him. I dare say he tastes like a promise: that I'll never be alone, bored, or dare escape him if I try.
And would I want to escape this man’s possessive grasp? In this heated moment, fuck no.
I’d submit if it meant I got to ride this high of lust and bliss in front of such a grand audience that expected another submissive Omega who’d bow to their will.
His teeth find my lower lip and bite; not gentle or sweet, but hungry. I moan, helpless and unrepentant, and he swallows the sound. My fingers splay across the thick column of his throat, feeling the pulse race under my palm, feeling this wild, uncontainable power just waiting to be unleashed, and knowing that for this moment, I have it at my mercy.
The kiss is wet, loud, obscene.
