But my body is screaming for an alpha—this alpha—and I’m too far gone to resist.
I fist my hands in his hair, the strands catching between my fingers as I drag his ear to my lips.
“Fuck me.”
He pushes in, breaking past the tight ring of muscle.
I scream. Gasp. Arch my back off the bed.
It hurts.It fucking hurts so bad. I grit my teeth and make a weird sound.
Our gazes lock together, his dark eyes burning into mine with an intensity that is almost more invasive than the physical act. He works himself deeper, inch by excruciating inch, his jaw set so tight I can see the muscle ticking.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, his hot breath fanning my face as he braces himself above me. “You need to breathe for me.”
I try, but my chest won’t cooperate. I try again, forcing air past the tightness in my throat, and he rewards me by grinding deeper, rolling his hips in a slow, agonizing circle. His cock drags against a sensitive knot of nerves deep inside me, sending a violent wave of shivers through my entire frame.
“Oh God…”
My hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging crescents into his flesh as I fight to stay anchored against the tide of sensation. Slowly, I feel my body surrendering, opening wider, stretching and molding around him as he feeds me more of himself. My inner walls ripple in a desperate, instinctive rhythm, pulling him deeper even as my mind screams.
This is Enzo Valerio, the man I'm here to kill, and I’m letting him inside me in the most literal way possible.
He pauses, his chest heaving as he searches my face. “Are you—”
“Don’t talk to me.”
“You’re shaking. Does it hurt?”
“Ofcourse it hurts,” I snap, the honesty forced out of me by the sheer pressure of him. “Why do you have to be so fucking big?”
For some reason, the tension in his face fractures, and he breaks into a sharp, unexpected grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Oh, this bastard. I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t—”
He slides the rest of the way in, and we both freeze.
I’m so full I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but feel the thick pulse of his cock inside me, the heat of him burning through my core. He’s so deep I swear I can feel him in my throat, pressing against my lungs, my heart—
I clench around him, and it draws a guttural groan from his throat.
“Cristo,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “You feel—”
I don’t let him finish. I roll my hips, grinding onto his cock, and the sensation punches moans out of both of us.
Then he’s moving. Hard and fast and deep. The heat won’t allow for gentle, and I don’t want that anyway. I want it rough and punishing. Need the pain to drown out the way my body is responding.
I want it to hurt so bad I can’t think about how every thrust makes stars explode behind my eyes.
He shifts the angle, hooking my thigh over his hip and driving in even deeper. Suddenly he’s nailing that sweet spot with every stroke, and I’m making sounds I didn’t know I was capable of—high, desperate, keening noises that should humiliate me.
But I’m too far gone to stop myself.
His lips land on my throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses, suckling, nibbling at the skin. He works his way up, sucking on my chin, then claiming my mouth.
My hands slide into his hair, and I kiss him back, swallowing his groans as he swallows mine.
When he pulls back, his mouth hovers over mine, breath hot against my lips. Then his teeth sink into my bottom lip the same time he snaps his hips hard. I gasp into his mouth, clenching around him.
