“Pants off and lay down on the bed,” I tell him, lacing the words with the smallest bit of the Alpha bark.
He shudders and mutters, “Holy hell.”
And then his trembling hands are rushing to comply. He kicks his pants toward the door and then pulls away from my hold, climbing onto the bed with slow, shaky movements. His eyes lock onto me the moment he’s on his back. His eyes are half-open, his desire sharpening his cheekbones.
I run the bundle of rope through my palms, soaking in the way his chest shudders and his cheeks flush. I can’t help but focus on the bite scar on his left collarbone. The primal desire to lay my own, to mark him and bind him to me, too, rises in a swift, consuming wave. It rushes through my veins, leaving my hands tingling and my breath shaky as hell.
My hands shake with the force of it as I slowly climb onto the bed beside him and guide his wrists together. His apple scent pulses from him with every shallow, panted breath that lifts his chest. I tie the rope around his wrists, careful to keep enough blood flow he won’t be at risk for the next several hours.
When I guide his bound arms above his head, I ask, “This okay?”
“Y-yeah,” he gasps.
It takes only a minute to tie the rope to one of the hidden hooks tucked on the inside of my bed’s headboard. Then I ease down the bed, careful to not touch him, until I’m kneeling between his spread knees. A soft tremor works through his body. His stomach clenches as I let my fingers trail over his hip bones and then the small line of hair running just below his navel. His cock twitches, and his breath catches.
I’d known from the first photo in the Council’s packet that he was handsome, that he could have been a model making millions of dollars with his face and body. But seeing all of his olive skin laid out in front of me like it’s my own personal feast?
“You’re so pretty,” I mutter.
The corner of his lips flick up.
A purr climbs my throat, and for the first time in my life, I don’t swallow it down.
I want to explore every inch of him, mark him and taste him. I want to take my time, let him come so close to the edge until he’s a shaking mess under my hands. I trail my fingers up his chest, flicking one nipple and then the other. His scent flashesout from him, stronger than before, and a bite to it that spurs me on.
“Megan,” he whispers.
I flatten my hands against his stomach and run my thumbs along the sensitive line where his thighs fade into his hips. This time, instead of another pulse of his apple, it’s a small noise in the back of his throat, a mix between a moan and a whine. A bead of pre-cum pools at the head of his cock. All at once, the desire to see it dripping down his shaft, see our combined releases making a mess of him after my lock releases, is all I can imagine. My core heats and pulses.
“I—”
Whatever he’s about to say chokes off, though, as I run my lips along the underside of his cock. It jerks against my mouth as he gasps. His legs stiffen around me and his stomach flexes. And the noise he makes as my mouth closes over the head of him? As my tongue licks away the small, salty bit of liquid and then flattens so I can take him deep?
It’s better than anything I’ve ever heard in my life.
All at once, my control is gone. Nothing is more important than feeling him inside me, getting him deep enough I’ll still feel him days from now. I pull away from him with an audible pop. His hips flex, trying to follow me, and then he groans. I strip out of my clothes, letting them fall off the end of the bed. His gaze is rapt on me, soaking in every inch of my body.
“Megan, you’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice so low and breathy, it sends a shiver down my spine. “I want to touch you.”
That part of me that wants to make an Omega happy—wants to give everythingmyOmega could possibly want—slams against my ribs, trying to get out. I quiet it with the feel of his skin as I straddle him, my knees pressing into his sides as I grind into him, covering his dick with my wetness. A whine bubbles up his throat, and his hands clench.
It slams again, and I feed it the small tremors that course through him as I slowly rise, guiding his cock to my entrance. It slams again, and I force it silent as I sink onto him without pretense. No soft seduction, no slow adjustment for either of us. Before he can take another breath, he’s seated to the hilt, my hips brushing his.
His head tosses back, stretching his throat, as he practically shouts.
“Holy God,” I mutter.
Fuck, he’s big. The stretch is almost a burn with him, so different from the last several partners I’ve had. I roll my hips, and he shakes under me.
“Next time I’ll let you touch me,” I whisper.
I ease up until only the head of his cock is still inside me. I pause there, watching as his body strains under me, tries to rise to meet me. I adjust so my shins lay over his thighs, making him unable to move. He whines, and it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard. When I slam back down, harder than before, he curses.
“Next time I’ll let it be pretty and sweet,” I say. “But this time… Fuck, not this time, Omega.”
He doesn’t fight me—because, Jesus, he might just be perfect for me. His eyes grow hazy as he pants under me. His tongue runs along his lip.
“Yes, Alpha,” he whispers.
