She cups my cheek, as she did earlier in the day, and pulls me down for a longer kiss. Her eyes sparkle as she draws away.
“Follow me and see.” Her shoulders and hips sway as she heads for the stairs.
Every fifth or seventh step, she glances over her shoulder. She knows I’m following, but I keep her guessing. Hot on her heels one moment, breath ruffling her hair; the next, hanging back to enjoy how her hand trails along the banister, imagining the same caress along my body from heels to head. Unwilling tolet her get too far away, I take the stairs three steps at a time to lurk on her heels again before slowing as we pass down the hall.
Two paces into the shadows of my room—much as I wish, I can’t yet call it ‘ours’—she skips past the light switch and flicks on the softer bedside lamp instead. Warm light mixes with shadows as she pulls the curtains closed.
Then, she whirls and points at the bed. The sheets and covers lie smooth, pillows plump at the top, all waiting dishevelment. A hint of lavender soap lingers in the air, left by our regular housecleaner. When Johanna yanks the covers to the side, the sheets have been changed to a pair striped in white and blue that don’t smell of us at all.
Yet.
“Clothes off and lie down.” Johanna perches on a corner of the bed, arms and ankles crossed. The position makes her bathrobe fall open to either side, as her nightgown’s hem rides up to run across the top of her thighs, placing her legs are on full display. Her skin gleams where the light caresses it.
“Exactly how much payback are you expecting?” If I’m going to strip while she watches, might as well make it good. My fingers twist around hanks of my undershirt, but rather than pulling it off the usual way, I stretch and lift my arms high.
Despite Johanna’s face being half in shadow, it’s clear she’s not looking at my face. She licks her lips. “As much as I want,” she says huskily, then finally raises her gaze to meet mine. “Until you snap.”
My alpha suggests snapping immediately, but my rational brain disagrees, and we stick to that for now.
“The morning rule still holds: if you don’t like something speak up. I’ll do the same.” I undo the button on my pants. Only the rustle of cloth and our breathing disturbs the quiet. Anamaria’s room is, thankfully, one floor above and at the opposite end, so we don’t have to worry about making noise.
“Yes.” Johanna lingers over thes.
“Any other terms for tonight’s engagement?” I unzip my pants but leave them hanging at my hips. The pressure of the cloth added to my boxers helps keep the brain in my skull in control. “Things you want, things you don’t?”
If she aims to push me to snap, I need to know what’s acceptable afterward, what she’s least likely to regret.
Though, I don’t plan on waiting until I actually break, because I’m not sure what my alpha will do. It’s been too long since I let go during sex, and Johanna is a beta. Wonderful as betas are as partners, their bodies aren’t designed to match with alphas as easily as omegas. The ring of muscle around the base of my penis already throbs, and I have to remain in enough control to keep from hurting her.
“No toys yet—just us, same as this morning. No worries about pregnancy, thank fortune I’m beyond that.” She frowns, gaze lingering on my groin. “Kissing, licking, sucking, and touching are all fine. If I wince or yelp, stop, even if I haven’t said the word. No tickling.”
“Same applies to me.” Eager to taste her cranberry sweetness direct from her skin, I let my pants fall to pool around my feet. The soft cotton of my boxers can’t hide the thick ridge of my cock. “What do you need to ensure your pleasure?”
I phrase it that way, rather than outright asking what she needs to come, because she’ll decide whether or not she wants to go that far; if she’ll just stop stretching out negotiation of ground rules.
“Good question.” She rises, breasts and hips swaying as she saunters toward me. “If you want to fuck me, pay attention to my clit first. Lovely as I’m sure this is”—her hand wraps over the head of my cock—“and much as I enjoy fucking, it won’t make me come. Doesn’t matter, cock or dildo or vibrator. My orgasms areallabout the clitoris.”
“Good to know.” I grunt, because she’s measuring my increasingly stiff cock with her fingers, drawing too much blood away from my brain. The clarity helps, and—whether or not she realizes it—knowing what she wants only makes her sexier. “Do I get to snap yet?”
Abruptly, she draws away. “Absolutely not.”
The sudden rush of chill air against my cock helps me keep control as she lets her robe slip from her shoulders. Enhanced by fluffy lace at the neckline and hips, pink satin gleams against her skin.
“Don’t focus on just getting me off. The point is pleasure in general, not one peak. Make this about enjoying the ride, not arriving at the destination.” A flicker of sadness crosses her face. “I don’t want this to end too soon.”
Those few words change the tenor of the room. Max is suddenly with us, or rather the memory of him reaching his destination—the end of his life—too soon.
“Promise.” Leaning in, I cup her cheek, as she did mine earlier, and press my forehead against hers. “This is about us learning each other in new ways. Building something together, not a one-off.”
“Good.” Her lips brush mine; then, she pushes away and steps back, setting her hands on her hips as though a pirate queen surveying her latest captive. “Get those boxers off and lie down. You mapped my body this morning. It’s time I returned the favor.”
Easy orders to follow for now. Her face shows frank pleasure as I make a show of removing my boxers an inch or two at a time: eyes big, multiple licks of her lip, gulping swallows. One squeeze of my knot, still mostly flat at the base of my cock, and I strut to the bed. Splay my body against the mattress and pillows, careful to angle so I can see the alarm clock.
Thirty minutes for her to match what I did this morning.
Then, I’ll snap.
Chapter 30
