He pauses, his eyes widening like saucers. A brief, near-violent wave of shock crashes under my sternum.
“Not once?” His voice carries the same shocked disbelief.
“No,” I manage to whisper, my voice cracking around the word.
He mutters something against the bond scar, too faint for me to understand him, and then moves to kneel between my spread legs. My breathing comes in short pants as he stares down at me, his cheekbones sharpening with his own arousal. Nutmeg and apple fill the room, a testament to our combined need. My dick lays hard against my stomach.
“Marcus.” I swallow, not even sure what to say.
His palms move slowly up my thighs, his callouses catching on the fine hair that covers them. He pauses at my hips, his thumbs running along the sensitive skin. It takes me a moment to realize he’s wiping away my slick. My cheeks flush as embarrassment races through me. His gaze flicks back up to me. Had he felt it?
“You haven’t knotted since that night?” he asks. I carefully shake my head, not wanting to trigger more vertigo. “Have you ever been locked, then?”
“I’m laid out underneath you, begging for your dick, and you’re asking if I’ve fucked a female Alpha?” I can’t help but ask the question, my voice equal parts dry and humorous.
He nods once, his hands pausing. A feral, primal possessiveness rises under my sternum and steals my breath. The suppressor swallows it a heartbeat later. I swallow down a cry. His eyes fix on the movement of my throat, and his hands tighten on my hips.
“No.”
The whispered confession falls between us, a match dropped on dried scrubland.
He groans, and his eyes flutter shut. His voice is nothing but unrestrained desire when he murmurs, “Jesus, Cole. I’m already holding on by a thread.”
I tilt my hips in invitation and close my knees around his thighs, drawing him closer to me. Before I can actually move him, his hands are on my knees, immediately taking control of the entire dynamic. God, that’s hot.
I perfume again, stronger than before.
“Alpha,” I whisper. “Please.”
His teeth dig into his lip a moment before his eyes open. The blatant heat in them? Every single day without him the last three years has been worth it just to see that look, to see the primal need consuming him right now. Without another word, he pulls me closer to him, guiding my knees around his waist.
He pushes into me with a single, steady thrust. My cock jumps, and I moan. He tilts his head back on a ragged exhale as he seats himself entirely, his hold on my thighs tight enough it’ll bruise. He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t move at all. I writhe under him, needing more, needing him tofuckme until we’re so close people couldn’t possibly tear me away from him, could never separate us again.
“Cole,” he grinds out. I whine again and my scent intensifies, an edge to it betraying my desperation. As if it isn’t so overwhelming right now that it must be overriding the suppressor. “Damn it, I’m trying so hard to keep myself in check right now.”
I shake my head. “Give it to me. Please.”
Whatever last thread of control he had snaps. He leans over me, capturing my mouth in a searing, mind-numbing kiss, and then he, thankfully, moves. His thrusts are hard and deep, pushing me right to the edge in a matter of moments. Everywhimper, every whine, every noise I’ll no doubt be embarrassed by in the morning, is caught between his lips. He hums, wordlessly soothing me. Heat pools in the base of my spine.
“Marcus,” I whisper. Pleasure coils tighter, and I know I’m half a second from coming. “Marcus, please.”
What am I even asking for? I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be able to give it to me, he’ll satisfy this deep-seatedachewithin me.
“I know,” he grunts. “Go with me.”
As if I could stop myself right now. He stills above me with a broken moan, buried so fucking deep, and then his knot swells. My back bows, my vision blurring as sensation whips through my limbs, more scalding than a damn fire. The scream rips up my throat, and he kisses me again, muffling it.
I don’t know how long it lasts, how long the oddly satisfying, floating sensation continues before it slowly ebbs away. Eventually, my vision clears and reality creeps back in. Marcus is kissing behind my ear and down my throat. His knot is still keeping us together. The forced intimacy, the extended touch, soothes something I didn’t even realize was aching. I swallow and then twist a strand of his hair around my finger.
“So,” I say, trying for humor, “does this mean you’re good with me moving in?”
His laugh is breathless, and there’s a flash of humor in the bond.
Twenty
CHARLOTTE
Rain hits the windows of the rental in a steady rhythm that soothes my nerves, acting in total opposition to the mess my socials have become since I fell asleep last night. The overcast sky leaves the kitchen and living room with long shadows, but I don’t bother to turn on any of the lights as I pad across the space to the coffee maker. It’s one of those single-cup machines, so I drop one of the pods into the top and double check the water level before grabbing a plain white mug from the cabinet above. As the machine goes to work, my phone vibrates again, this time with a message from Kirsten.
