“Want to. Mine,” she says before she fists my cock with one hand and swirls her tongue over the weeping slit. I groan, and she moans, her soft breath against my length as she licks and explores me. She looks up again. “Mine,” she says possessively, like she has to convince me. I guess I deserve that.
“Yours.”
She gives me a satisfied smile before leaning forward and nearly swallowing my cock whole, her lips touching my knot and my length completely down her throat. I can’t help it when I shift slightly, making her take me deeper. She doesn’t gag, just hums around me. Her one hand now fondles my balls as she glides her lips up and down my length, her tongue giving special care to the view on the underside of my dick.
“Fuck,mon sucre d’érable. You want my cum? Hm? I want to see it on your tongue,mon doux.”
Charlotte moans and picks up speed. Like me coming in her mouth is a reward. That only makes me come even sooner. I moan and fist her wet hair as I spill down her throat and tongue. She doesn’t stop looking at me like I’m something fucking special as she’s on her knees for me.
I realize how fucking unworthy I am in this moment. But it’s bittersweet because I know I was right. She has a power over me unlike anything or anyone. Even on her knees, Charlotte holds all the power here. A scent match is an undeniable connection. I was a fucking idiot to think I could dodge fate.
She looks at me proudly and opens her mouth, showing me my cum on her tongue. I grip her chin and smile at her. “Good girl. Swallow for your Alpha.” She swallows and smiles at me brightly, like I gave her a fucking gift. I lift her up on my lap and kiss her frantically.
I just hope that when she’s out of heat, she wants me as badly as she does now and won’t hold how big of an asshole I was against me. I wouldn’t blame her, but I’ve already missed out on so much time. We have to go back to school the day after Christmas. Time is fading quickly.
I do my best to wash us both off quickly before shutting off the faucet and wrapping us both in towels. “Time for you to get some sleep,” I tell her.
She frowns at me again, somehow yawning and rolling her eyes at the same time. I don’t bother dressing her as I put her in the bed. Anders is passed out on the floor, and Eli is on the other side of the bed. I put her in the middle and crawl in next to her. I see the sandwich he made me, but at this point, I’m too fucking tired to even eat.
As soon as my wet hair hits the pillow, I’m out.
There’s a hard smack on my chest, definitely not a Charlotte sized hand. “What?” I grumble.
“Get up, man,” Eli says.
I blink my eyes open and closed, then look to my left—Charlotte is no longer there. Matter of fact, neither are most of the blankets and pillows.
“Where’s Charlotte?” I ask groggily.
Eli points to the corner where we were tossing messy blankets and pillows. Charlotte has added every single pillow and blanket off the bed and floor that she could find. She’s basically in a mountain of blankets and pillows. I can only see a few strands of blonde hair poking out.
“What is she doing?”
Eli shrugs his shoulders and pushes Anders’ side with his foot to wake him up.
“The fuck?” Anders groans.
“Something’s up with Charlotte,” Eli replies, and that has Anders popping right up.
“What?”
“She’s in the corner with all the blankets and pillows.”
Anders’ brows furrow, and he shakes the sleep away as he stands up, and we all approach where Charlotte is in the corner. Three big ass men who are all naked look terrified, like we’re approaching a feral animal.
“Charlotte,” Anders says in a soft voice.
“Go away,” Charlotte says clear as day. We all look at each other and pale. If she’s out of heat, shouldn’t she be happy and content?
“Char, baby, is something wrong?”
There’s a sniffle, and a rumble of purrs echo in the room. It’s fucking pathetic and embarrassing, and I’ll never admit that mine is probably the loudest.
There’s another sniffle. “Everything’s wrong,” she says.
“Charlotte, can we come in, or can you come out and talk to us?” I ask.
“Talk about what? How I can’t go back to school now? How I’ve gone through heat with my scent matches, and now we’re going to be separated? Or about how I can’t help but feel rejected even though I know it was best not to bond? Maybe we could talk about the worst thing, how I basically forced Mikael into being with me,” she cries, and I can’t help but snatch the blanket back and look at her watery eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. She has her glasses on and has to pull them up to wipe under her eyes.
