Page 59 of Undone
Anthony licked into his mouth. “You like it,” he said hoarsely, fucking him harder and harder. “You can wear alpha implants and pretend to be an alpha all you want, but deep down, it’s all you really want: to be knotted and bred like the wet bitch you are.”
Michael cried out and came, his cunt squeezing Anthony’s cock like it was trying to milk it. “Knot me knot me knot me,” he begged, sounding drunk.
It took every ounce of Anthony’s self-control not to comply. He yanked his cock out before his knot could form, coming all over Michael’s thighs and hole.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he found himself murmuring, nuzzling and kissing Michael’s face and then his pretty lips. “You know we don’t have time for that.”
Michael sighed but pulled him into a deeper kiss, his scent exuding contentedness and need as he turned them onto their sides and wrapped an arm around Anthony tightly. “Hold me,” he demanded.
Anthony obliged, smiling into his neck. Michael had become increasingly needy after sex lately, wanting to be kissed, held, and calmed—it was actually the biggest difference Anthony had noticed since the transformation. Anthony didn’t exactly mind, which surprised him. He’d always been called cold by his flings, not one to indulge his lovers’ need for comfort. But with Michael… it was different, somehow. With Michael, his everyneedy gesture felt like a win, pleasing something in his alpha hindbrain, his instincts all but purring. Hewantedto hold Michael after sex, wanted to kiss him and comfort him with gentle touches and endearments.
It actually worried him a little.
More than a little.
Sex was just sex, no matter how amazing it was. This warmth, this need and contentedness, was a different thing altogether.
His phone went off—as did Michael’s.
“They must be looking for us,” Michael said with a sigh. “We need to go back before they come looking for us.”
Anthony scowled, his arm around the other man tightening. He didn’t want to let go. Not yet.
Not ever.
The thought made him go still.
But it didn’t entirely surprise him, either.
He’d known for a while that he hated how careful and discreet they had to be all the time. These stolen moments away from other people’s eyes weren’t enough—hadn’t been enough for a while. He resented having to hide their relationship, resented calling it mere friendship, resented having no public claim on Michael.
He wanted to have one.
He wanted everyone to know he was the alpha who made Michael wail on his knot. He wanted to see his mark on Michael’s pretty neck. He wanted everyone to know who Michaelbelonged to. The mere thought of Michael marrying an omega or beta and pretending to be their mate made something ugly and vicious twist Anthony’s stomach in knots. No. He wouldn’t allow it.
“Marry me.”
Michael froze.
“W-what?” he stammered at last, his face flushing pink, his dark eyes wide.
He looked so lovely Anthony wanted to swallow him whole.
“Marry me,” he repeated firmly.
“You’re crazy.” Michael was looking at him as though he’d grown a second head. He sat up, pulling away from him and reaching for his pants. “You—you can’t just say things like that! I’m—”
“An omega,” Anthony said, tucking his spent cock in and zipping his fly. “You’re an omega, Michael.”
Michael glared at him, yanking his pants up and fixing his own fly. “As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I’m an alpha.”
“But you are not.” Anthony eyed him carefully before saying softly, “And you don’t want to be.”
“Thanks for informing me,” Michael bit off, but there was uncertainty in his eyes as he got to his feet. “You’re crazy.”
Anthony stepped forward and laid his hands on Michael’s face, cradling it gently. He wasn’t a gentle man. But with Michael, gentleness came easily. “Am I? Just think about it. If we get married, we won’t have to hide anymore.” He was pretty surehe wasn’t imagining the longing in Michael’s eyes. “We could live together, see each other all the time without people side-eyeing our unusual closeness. I could bite you, I could put my mark on you, I could breed you.” Michael flushed at that. Anthony’s grip tightened, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You’d look so good with my child in you. You looked so good with little Lili in your arms. I could give you your own. Our own.”
“You’re mad,” Michael whispered. “It would be social suicide, Anthony.”
