Sweat threatens to break out across my skin, and I scramble to lock it down.
I know alphas have shielding, mental walls that can block an omega out, protecting them from emotions that might cause stress or harm. They can also project, if they choose. Maybe alphas practice the skill, or maybe it’s innate. I can do it for a while, but it doesn’t hold. This skin isn’t mine nor the mindset, but the longer I wear this skin, the more it starts to rewire me, reframing my impulses, thoughts, and wants.
And right now?
All I want is her.
Her scent wraps around my brain, choking me, dulling the tether to the underlying version of me. I don’t give a single fuck about the people standing nearby: soldiers, officers, whoever. I just want to shove her up against the nearest wall, peel that uniform off her far enough to get to what I need, and fuck her raw… Mark her with every thrust until she forgets every alpha that came before me… Until she remembers who she belongs to.
Me.
She sways, her lips parting, and her eyes on mine. “You’re a cruel man,” she mutters, her confession wrapped in accusation.
My smile feels predatory. Whatever she’s unleashed in me is dark, unhinged, and feeds off her submission. I reel her in tighter, press my body into hers like we’re the only two people in this queue, this corridor, this fucking war. My thumb strokes the soft skin beneath her ear, right where her pulse flutters fast and unsteady.
Around us, a few alphas glance over like they sense the electricity snapping between us: her pheromones, my pheromones, and the potent combination of them both. Lust saturates the space, clinging to our skin.
Good, let the fuckers choke on it. Let them feel the ache and know she isn’t for them, never was, and never will be. She’s responding to me.
I don’t even realize I’m growling until the crowd shifts. Some eyes drop and some turn our way: expectant, waiting for the show.
She presses into me shamelessly, like she can’t help herself. Her tits are flush against my chest, soft despite the armor. I didn’t let her put any underwear on. My cum is inside her. Does she feel it with every breath, every movement? Is she all sore inside where my dick and knot stretched her pussy out?
My fingers flex against the back of her neck, anchoring her to me. We’re not even moving against each other, but it feels like we’re fucking, like I’m inside her again, filling her, her taste under my tongue. She smells so fucking good. I could take her here, right now. I wouldn’t be the first alpha overcome by the urge to remind his omega of their place. In my mind, I have her against the wall and I’m thrusting hard with deep, hefty thrusts, knocking on the entrance of her womb, and she’s writhing, begging me for more, for deeper, to make her ache.
“Please stop,” she whispers.
Not a fucking chance. The scene plays out in my mind: glorious, colorful, and potent.
She moans, low and guttural. The sound makes my stomach tighten with arousal. Her breath stutters, catches, and she claws at me, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against my combat gear until she finds one of the buckles on my chest rig and grips tight.
My restraint frays. Her body is pressed so close I can feel every panting breath, every tremor, every unspoken plea vibrating through her skin and into mine.
She said stop, but I can’t, not when her body is begging me to do everything I’m projecting.
To ruin her completely.
Her next cry is sharp and wild as she climaxes, right here in the line with dozens of soldiers pretending they don’t hear the way she moans for me.
“Fuck!” someone mutters behind us. “Can you two wind it down a notch?”
My chuckle releases some of my tension.
She’s still pressed against me, panting in hot, breathy bursts. Her fingers are still embedded in the buckle before she rouses, blinks, and shoves against me.
Not fucking happening. My hands tighten, and I yank her flush against me, arm locking around her waist, pinning her in place like she belongs there.
“What is wrong with you?” Her face is flushed, and her eyes are wide and mortified.
My grin is smug. “Sorry. Got a little carried away.”
She glares, exhaling heavily. “Sorry? You just made me—” She glances around, frantic now, scanning the alphas, some of whom are pointedly looking anywhere but at us, and some of whom are still staring as if hoping for another round.
Nosy fuckers.
“I’m aware of what I made you do… so is everyone in the corridor.” I grind my cock into her soft belly. She stiffens, butI feel the hitch in her breath, the way her body yields even when her mind is trying to put distance between us. “Don’t even think about pulling away from me. You’re surrounded by horny alphas, and not one of them gives a fuck if an alpha needs to discipline his omega… They’d probably enjoy it.”
“Now you’re threatening me with what? A spanking?”
