Page 48 of Discover Me
When his fingers wrap around me, all other thoughts scatter. My head falls back against the pillow, a broken moan escaping my lips as he strokes slowly, teasingly. He watches my face the whole time, drinking in every expression, every reaction.
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "Don't hide from me. Want to see everything."
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze, and the intensity there steals my breath. There's hunger, yes, but also something else. Something that looks almost like wonder. Like he can't quite believe I'm real, I'm here, I'm his—even temporarily.
His thumb swipes over the tip and my hips jerk, seeking more friction, more of anything he's willing to give. Kellan's smile turns predatory, pleased with my response, and he leans down to capture my lips again as his hand continues its torturous rhythm.
I'm already overwhelmed and we've barely started. This is what he does to me—reduces me to pure sensation, pure need. Every nerve ending is on fire, hyperaware of every point where our bodies connect. The weight of him, the heat of his skin, the intoxicating scent that's purely him—it all combines to make my head fuzzy with want.
"Need you," I manage to gasp out between kisses, and it's both the truest thing I've ever said and a desperate understatement. I need him like I need air. Like I need my heart to beat. This visceral, overwhelming need that's been growing since the moment I first saw him, first recognized what he was to me.
"You have me," Kellan says, and oh god, if only that were true. If only he meant it the way I need him to mean it.
But his hands are sliding down my sides, gripping my hips, and then he's shifting, moving down my body. His mouth follows the path his hands took, pressing kisses and gentle bites that make me gasp and squirm. When he reaches my hip bone, he bites down harder, and I cry out at the sharp pleasure-pain of it.
"Mine," he growls against my skin, and my heart clenches in my chest. "For now, you're mine."
For now. The words are a reminder, a boundary, but I can't focus on that when his mouth is moving lower, when his breath is ghosting over sensitive skin, when his hands are spreading my thighs apart with sure, confident movements.
The first touch of his tongue has me arching off the bed, my hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands. Kellan makes an approving sound and does it again, taking his time, exploring thoroughly.
Every stroke of his tongue, every strategic touch, it's all systematically destroying my ability to think, to breathe, to do anything but feel. My thighs are trembling on either side of his head, and I can't stop the string of desperate sounds falling from my lips. Can't stop my hips from rocking into the sensation, seeking more even as it threatens to overwhelm me completely.
Kellan's hands grip my hips harder, holding me in place as he works me over with single-minded determination. Like making me come undone is the most important thing in the world. Like there's nowhere else he'd rather be than right here, right now, between my legs and reducing me to a writhing mess.
"Kellan, please," I gasp, not even sure what I'm begging for. More? Less? Everything?
He pulls back just enough to look up at me, and the sight of swollen lips, eyes dark with desire, looking at me like I'm something worth devouring, it nearly finishes me right there.
"Please what?" he asks, his voice rough and wrecked. "Tell me what you need."
You, I want to say. Just you. Always you.
"Inside," I manage instead, my voice shaking. "Need you inside me."
Something flashes in his eyes and then he moves, reaching for the nightstand as he grabs the lube and gently prepares me. "Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs, pressing kisses to my knee, my thigh, anywhere he can reach while his fingers work. "Want this to be good for you."
"I know it will be," I breathe, because it's true.
When he finally presses inside, my breath catches in my throat. The stretch, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being connected to him—it's almost too much. Almost, but not quite. I need more. Need all of him.
"Breathe," Kellan says softly, his forehead pressing against mine as he holds still, letting me adjust. "I've got you. Just breathe."
I do, pulling in shaky breaths, trying to relax into the sensation. His hands are stroking my sides, my thighs, soothing and grounding me. When I finally nod, he begins to move, slow and careful at first. Each roll of his hips is measured, like he's savoring every moment.
And god, it feels incredible. The slide of him inside me, the weight of his body over mine, the way his breath ghosts across my skin—it's everything. He's everything.
"You feel so good," he groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "So perfect. How are you so perfect?"
I want to laugh at the absurdity of that—me, perfect? I'm just a construction worker from nowhere, a Beta who happened tobe in the right place at the right time to catch the attention of a rockstar Alpha. There's nothing perfect about me.
But then he hits that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids, and I lose the ability to think at all. My back arches, a sharp cry tearing from my throat, and Kellan makes a satisfied sound as he does it again. And again. Finding that angle and exploiting it ruthlessly until I'm trembling and gasping beneath him.
"That's it," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple, my cheek, my jaw. "Let me hear you.”
His possessive streak is showing again and I love it. The thought sends a pang through my chest even as pleasure coils tighter in my belly. I'm so close already, wound tight and ready to snap. Kellan seems to sense it because his hand slides between us, wrapping around me again, stroking in time with his thrusts.
"Come for me," he says, and it's not a request. It's a command, delivered in that rough, authoritative voice that makes something primal in me respond immediately. "Want to feel you."
