He looked up at me, eyes softening just a fraction. “You good?”
It took everything I had to answer. “Please,” I whispered.
He didn’t need more invitation.
He leaned in again, mouth finding mine, tongue pushing deep. His hands framed my hips, holding me steady as he ground against me. The friction was perfect, just this side of painful.
He moved lower, mouth trailing down my chest, over my stomach, teeth scraping a path along the sharp ridges of my ribs. He kissed the line of my hip, then the crease where thigh met groin, and I thought I might die from how badly I wanted him.
He bit the inside of my thigh, just above the knee, then looked up at me. “You ever had an alpha do this before?”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.
He smiled, softer this time. “Good. I want to be your first.”
He spread my legs wider, then leaned in, and for a second I thought he was going to take me right there, hard and fast and desperate.
But instead, he went slow.
He licked a stripe up the inside of my thigh, then bit down just enough to leave a mark. His tongue was hot, wet, and when he finally reached my cock, he just hovered there, breathing me in.
I felt dizzy, drunk on the anticipation.
Then he took me in his mouth, all at once, and I nearly blacked out.
The sensation was overwhelming—heat, pressure, the rough scrape of the scruff on his jaw and the soft, slick slide of tongue. He sucked hard, then backed off, then sucked again, each time drawing a whimper from my throat.
He let me go with a pop, then licked his lips. “You taste good,” he said, and the rawness in his voice almost undid me.
He went back to it, working me with his mouth and hand, slow at first, then faster, building a rhythm that had me bucking up off the table. The edge was close, too close, and I tried to warn him but he just gripped my hips tighter, holding me in place.
I came hard, stars bursting behind my eyes, the whole world narrowing down to the heat of his mouth and the iron grip of his hands.
He swallowed, then stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were darker now, almost black.
He leaned in, kissed me again, and I tasted myself on his tongue. He held me there, bodies pressed together, the world outside erased by the warmth and the smell of sweat and sex.
He kissed my forehead, then whispered in my ear. “We’re just getting started.”
I believed him.
And I wanted more.
I should have expected what happened next, but I’d never been with an alpha before. Not like this. Not even close.
Rawley’s hands locked around my waist, and with a single pull he dragged me back to the edge of the table. My jeans and underwear were already down around my knees, but that wasn’t enough—he wanted all of me, and he took it.
He hauled me up and off the table just long enough to peel my pants down past my boots. The rubber soles squeaked on the linoleum as he ripped the pants off one leg, then left them dangling from the other like a warning.
He looked me over, pupils wide, nostrils flared. “You’re perfect,” he said, so soft I almost missed it.
He kissed me again, biting at my jaw, my ear, my neck. Every nerve was live and burning, every inch of skin aching for contact. He worked his way down my body with a kind of brutal tenderness, hands mapping my spine, my ribs, the hollow at the base of my back.
He pushed me back onto the table, chest down, and for a split second I worried he was going to be rough, too rough, but then he put his hand on the center of my back and just held me there,letting me breathe, letting me know that I was still in control, if only a little.
He leaned over me, the heat of his body blanketing mine. “You ever been fucked like this?” he asked.
I shook my head, face pressed to the wood, hands scrambling for purchase against the slippery varnish.
