Page 150 of Saddle and Scent
"You're doing so good," I murmured, my thumb drawing small, deliberate circles as I watched her unravel. "Just let go, Bell. I've got you."
She whimpered my name, the sound low and pleading, and her grip on my hand tightened until our knuckles went white. I adjusted my angle, feeling the way her body arched for more, how she chased every flicker of pressure. With each new wave, her breathing grew louder, more ragged, and it was all I could do not to lose myself right there.
Her thighs flexed, clamping around my wrist, but I didn't stop. I wanted to see how far she could go, how much she could stand before she broke. My own heart pounded so loud I was sure she could hear it, and my cock throbbed with sympathy, aching for the release I was giving her. But this wasn't about me. Not yet.
"That's it, my Sweet Bell," I encouraged, letting the nickname slip out before I could stop it. "You're so close. Just let it happen. Come undone for me."
She gasped, her whole body bowing off the mattress, and I saw in her face the exact moment it overtook her. Her eyessqueezed shut, her teeth bared in a snarl of pleasure, and she let out a cry that was half my name, half some wild animal sound. Her nails bit into my palm, leaving marks I knew I'd cherish later. But even as she came, even as her body seized and shuddered and finally went limp, she didn't let go of my hand.
When she comes this time, it's with my name on her lips and her nails digging into my palm. I work her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she's limp and gasping, collapsed back against the pillows.
I should pull away. Should give her space to process.
But she doesn't let go of my hand.
"Stay," she whispers.
So I do.
I shift to lie beside her, still clothed while she's bare and vulnerable. It should feel unbalanced, but instead it feels right.
Like I'm her guardian, her protector, allowed this closeness by grace and trust.
"The next wave will be soon," I warn her.
She nods against my shoulder.
"I know. But right now... can we just..."
"Yeah," I say, understanding. "We can just stay like this."
I want to bring her comfort and stability. For her to realize the level of peace she gives me with her sexual satisfaction. It brings out the Alpha in me that wants to protect what’s his.
And I guess I’ve missed that level of empowerment.
That pride in protecting and being there for the Omega who entrusts me to be her rock in all avenues.
She was quiet, and I knew her mind was already racing toward all the reasons this should never have happened. I shifted underneath her, just enough to rest my chin on her head, and drew slow, steady breaths, hoping she’d match me if I set the pace. Let it be easy, I willed, let it be real.
That ache I’d carried for years, the one that hollowed out my chest every time another Alpha found his mate or some Omega left town with a promise of a better life, it was gone. Replaced by something new—pride, sharp and wild, in being the one she chose, even if just for now. I wanted to hold this version of myself up to the light and never let it dull down again. She made me feel like I could finally stop apologizing for what I wanted; like it was okay to want her, to want to be wanted in return.
I shifted my grip, pressing my palm low on her back, and she gave a tiny shiver but didn’t flinch away. Her thigh fell across mine, bare skin on denim, and I thought I could spend the rest of my life cataloging each freckle and scar, each place where her skin grew sensitive or stubborn. She reached up and brushed her fingers through my beard, thoughtful, almost scientific, and I let her. If she wanted to dismantle me piece by piece, I’d let her have the blueprints.
"Did you mean it?" she asked, voice muffled.
I blinked, momentarily lost. "Mean what?"
"That I’m perfect," she said, not as a challenge, but with something like wonderment. Like she had never believed it, not once, and needed to hear it again before she’d let herself think it might be true.
I rolled us gently, so she was half on top of me, my arms banded around her. "You are," I said, and I kept my voice low so it wouldn’t startle her. "Even when you’re impossible. Especially then."
Her laugh vibrated through me, soft and incredulous. She didn’t believe it yet, but she wanted to. There was a time I would’ve tried to fix that, fill the silence with explanations and justifications. But I was learning that sometimes the best thing I could do was hold her and let her come to her own conclusions.
I stroked her hair, smoothing back the stray flyaways, and waited. She always filled her silences eventually, and I was never in a rush.
"You know I never did this before," she said quietly, the words falling out like a confession. "Not just the… sex, but the letting go. The trusting someone else to be gentle."
I squeezed her, heart clenching.
