Page 8 of My Freshman Mate
He releases my wrists only to tear at the rest of my clothes. My pants are unbuttoned and yanked down my legs along with my underwear, leaving me naked and exposed. I've never been naked in front of anyone before. Mortification should overwhelm me. Instead, the hungry look in his eyes as he stares down at me makes a surge of power, of being wanted, rush through me.
He stands at the edge of the bed and strips off his own clothes with efficient, almost angry movements. His t-shirt comes off in one fluid motion, revealing a chest and abs that look like they were carved from marble. His jeans follow, and then he's naked, and—
Oh. My. God.
He's huge. Everywhere. His shoulders are broad enough to block out the sun, his chest a wall of muscle, his arms thick and corded with strength. And his cock—I swallow hard, feeling panic flutter in my chest. It's long and thick, already fully hard and curving up toward his stomach, the head flushed a deep, angry red.
That's not going to fit. That can't possibly fit.
As if reading my thoughts, a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. "Don't worry, little omega," he says, his voice a dark promise. "You were made to take me."
He crawls back onto the bed, and the mattress dips, rolling me toward him. He moves with a fluid, predatory grace that makes the hair on my arms stand up. Part of me is terrified, a logical, self-preservation instinct screaming that this is too fast, too much. But that part is being drowned out by a deeper, more primal hum in my blood. A hum that recognizes him.My alpha.
My cock is painfully hard, leaking slick against my stomach. An embarrassing, hot wetness is gathering at my entrance, something I've only ever experienced during the lonely privacy of my heats. It's a biological betrayal of the highest order.
Wes's eyes drop to the evidence of my body's surrender, and his nostrils flare. A low, guttural growl rumbles in his chest, a sound of pure, possessive satisfaction. "You smell so fucking good," he murmurs, his face dropping to my neck, his hot breath ghosting over my skin. He doesn't kiss me; he inhales me. "Sweet. Ripe. So fucking ready for me."
His hand, big and warm, slides down my belly. The calluses on his palm are a rough, pleasant friction against my skin. When his fingers brush the slickness between my legs, I jerk, a full-body flinch of shock and stimulation. No one has ever touched me there. I've barely touched myself there, too clinical and embarrassed by the omega part of my anatomy to ever explore it.
"So wet," he says, the words a smug vibration against my throat. "Look at you, little omega. Soaking for my cock already."
One thick finger presses against my entrance, and I gasp, my back arching. It's a strange, intrusive pressure. He pushes inside, and it's tight, so tight it's almost painful.
"Fuck," he grunts, working his finger deeper. "A virgin?"
I can only nod, my throat closed with a knot of shame and raw need.
His eyes darken, a fiercely possessive fire igniting in their blue depths. "Good," he says, his voice dropping to a register that rearranges my bones. "No one else ever gets this. You were waiting for me. You just didn't know it."
A second finger joins the first, stretching me wider. A sharp burn makes me wince, my hips instinctively trying to pull away. Wes's free hand comes up, not to my cheek, but to grip my jaw, his thumb pressing into the soft skin under my chin, holding my head still. It's not tender. It's an order.
"Don't pull away from me," he commands, his voice dropping to a low growl. "You take what I give you. Now open the fuck up for me, Braiden. Show me how wet you are for your alpha."
I try to obey, forcing the muscles I didn't even know I was clenching to relax. The burn eases into a throb, a strange, aching pleasure. He moves his fingers inside me, a slow, deliberate rhythm, and the friction against something deep inside sends a jolt of pure electricity through my system.
"That's it," he murmurs, sounding pleased. "You feel that? You were made for this. Made to be filled by me."
He adds a third finger, and I whimper, a sound of overwhelmed pleasure and pain. His mouth crashes down on mine, swallowing the noise. The kiss is deep, punishing, his tongue sweeping through my mouth like he owns it, like he owns every part of me. He's teaching me his taste, branding me with it. By the time he withdraws his fingers, I'm trembling, my body a live wire of sensation. I'm aching for something I don't understand, a desperate, hollow need that only he can fill.
"Please," I whisper against his lips, the word a surrender.
Wes knows. He pulls away, just enough to position himself between my legs. The blunt, wet head of his cock presses against my slick entrance. It's hot and impossibly thick. My eyes widen in a fresh wave of panic. One of his hands grips my hip, digging in, holding me in place. The other tangles in my hair, pulling myhead back to expose my throat, my pulse hammering there like a trapped bird.
"Look at me," he orders, his voice raw. "I want to see your face when I make you mine."
I meet his gaze, and my world narrows to the savage hunger in his eyes. This is it. The end of my plan. The beginning of my life.
He pushes inside me.
My world dissolves into white-hot agony and blinding pleasure. The burn is searing, a tearing sensation that makes me cry out. He's too big. He's splitting me in two. Tears spring to my eyes, blurring his face above me. But beneath the pain, my omega instincts are screaming with a kind of primal joy.Filled. Claimed. Mated.
"Fuck," Wes groans, his voice strained, his eyes squeezed shut for a second. He's only halfway in. "So fucking tight. You're gripping me like a fist."
He pushes deeper, a slow, torturous invasion, seating himself to the hilt. I feel stretched to my absolute limit, impaled, owned. My hands fly up and claw at his shoulders, my nails digging into hard muscle, trying to anchor myself in the storm.
"Breathe," he commands, his voice rough. "Take me, Braiden. All of me."
I gasp in a shuddering breath, and the tension in my body eases just enough for the sharpest edges of the pain to dull. It's still there, a deep, stretching ache, but now there's room for the pleasure, a throbbing, insidious heat that starts where we're joined and spreads through my entire body.
