Page 34 of The Denver Alpha

“Exactly like that, beautiful,” I groan, intensely watching her every movement, every expression. A little crease forms between her brows as her pouty lips part, a needy whine slipping free. My cock jerks against my zipper in response, all too eager to end this tease and sink inside her.

I can’t.

I’m already crossing a line here.

But fuck, I can fantasize.

I can imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around me, how sweet those little moans and whines would sound if I was the one coaxing them from her.

I don’t need to speculate what she’d look like falling apart beneath me, because that’s where this is headed. Her breaths start to come out shallower, faster, her thigh trembling against my hip.

I dip my head down beside hers, sucking in a deep inhale of her lilac and coconut scent and murmuring into the shell of her ear. “You’re a little fucking tease, aren’t you Juliet?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her hips bucking as she brings herself closer to the edge of oblivion.

I’ve never done this before- orchestrated and watched a girl getting off while keeping my own pants on- but fuck if it isn’t one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Juliet’s cheeks are flushed, her lips puffy. My hand is still locked firmly around her neck, her throat straining against my hold with every ragged breath.

I keep talking, if only to distract myself from what I really want to do to Juliet right now.

“Do you wanna come?” I rasp, my eyes dropping between our bodies to watch the movement of her hand beneath her skirt.

“Yes.”

I’ve already crossed a line here, so what’s stopping me from helping her over the finish line? My fingers twitch with the urge to join hers. “Yes what?” I press as my conflicted brain wrestles with whether or not I should take this further.

The word I’m searching for is please, but I must forget who I’m dealing with.

“Yes, Sarge,” Juliet snarks.

A growl rips from my chest, my hand tightening around her throat as I lean down and press my forehead tight to hers. “What’d I tell you about that name?”

She doesn’t respond- not with words, anyways. She can’t, because cutting off her airway triggers her climax. Her lips part on a silent scream, hips bucking and body jerking beneath me. I release my grip on her throat just in time to catch some of the sexiest moans I’ve ever heard while Juliet rides out her orgasm, the fingernails of her free hand digging into my forearm and her eyes rolling back in bliss.

Fuck me, it’s incredible to watch her fall apart. She’s beautiful, free, uninhibited. Fucking stunning.

I can’t take my eyes off her.

Her gaze locks with mine as she comes back down, and shockingly, the regret I expect to feel isn’t there. Not in the way I thought it’d be, at least. I only wish I had some part in bringing Juliet that release.

We just stare at each other for a prolonged moment, sharing the same air. Then, slowly, I climb off her, smoothing out my dress shirt as I straighten. Juliet wastes no time in sitting up and hopping off of the desk, straightening her disheveled clothes and pulling herself together.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” I offer, angling away from her in an effort to hide the obnoxious bulge in my slacks. As if she isn’t fully aware of the effect she has on me.

Even though my dick is painfully hard, I feel none of the stress or manic energy from earlier. And although she was the one who got off, I feel sated somehow, like taking control back in some way satisfied the part of me that craves it. I’m oddly calm, strangely at peace.

Juliet nods, holding her head high and looking me square in the eye. Some girls might feel awkward after what just went down between us, but not Juliet. The girl is all piss and vinegar. “Gotta go deal with that, huh?” she asks, eyes flickering down to my crotch.

Yep, there goes the calm.

My spine straightens, my jaw tensing.

Juliet grins, stepping into my space and patting my chest with a hand. That mischievous look is in her eyes again as she gazes up at me. “Just let me know when you decide you want to break the rules for real,” she winks. Then she turns on a heel, strutting away to retrieve her handbag.

I drag in slow, deep breaths as I watch her, wondering how the hell someone so alluring, someone so addicting, can also be impossibly frustrating. I never know which way is up or down when Juliet’s around.

She tosses her purse over her shoulder, spinning back around and arching a brow in challenge. “You coming or what?”

“Yeah.”

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