My tongue wets my lips as I watch him approach.
“You’re not the alpha I expected,” he says, stopping in front of me, a small sliver of skin peeking out from his open pants.
I want to lean forward and kiss it, but I don’t. I stay where I am, letting him direct my movements.
“You’re really going to let me do this?”
“Go on, Mr. Wren.”
He shudders, and one of his hands threads through my hair, tightening roughly. The other pulls his cock out, and my eyes devour it. It’s perfect, thick and long, dripping with precum.
My lips part.
And he pushes inside.
His moan slides through me, and my hands clasp tighter behind my back. I want to reach out, to take, but I don’t. I just let my mouth be used by him. Inch by inch, he enters me until he’s at the back of my throat.
“I know you can take it,” he whispers and then slides forward, down my throat. His hand slides around the front of my neck to feel how I take him, how I swallow around his hard length.
“Oh my gods,” he moans and then pulls out slowly, the tip of his cock sitting at my lips.
“Lick it.”
I let my tongue lap at his slit, and he shudders visibly.
Then he pushes back inside, doing the same thing all over again, holding himself down my throat as I swallow around him before pulling out slowly, asking me to lick him.
It’s a slow torture, but I fucking want it, crave it.
So I let him use me, a slow fucking of my mouth until he starts to tremble, his hand twisting painfully in my hair.
“Alpha,” I hear him say, and my wolf roars inside of me, my knuckles cracking as I try to hold on to control. “Alpha, please.”
It’s my undoing. I let my hands move from behind my back to his waist, thrusting him into me roughly, my mouth making the most obscene sounds.
His chin is on his chest as I take him, bringing him right to the edge and shoving him in as far as he can go, swallowing as his cock erupts right into my stomach.
When I pull him free, I swipe at my mouth, my lips swollen from overuse. My cock is hard between my legs, pressing against my jeans, wanting to be free, to watch my omega fall to his knees and suck.
But I don’t ask, don’t force, just let go of him and stand up. His eyes meet mine, hooded, and his cheeks are flushed.
“Mr. Barrett,” he murmurs, and I run my tongue along my teeth, tasting him there.
“Mr. Wren.”
I don’t stay any longer, my body unable to be in his intoxicating presence with how good he smells. I walk out to my truck and sit inside, turning on the AC and letting it cool my overheated skin.
Fuck, I want to go back in there and impale him, knot him. I want to fucking mark him.
My wolf rages inside of me, so I clutch the steering wheel to keep myself in my seat.
I should put the truck in reverse and leave, but I don’t. I just idle there, my eyes on the trailer. Where the fuck is security? HasArbor even requested it? I need to ask, need to find out why no one is here patrolling.
But then suddenly, I see Arbor rushing out, his legs carrying him toward me. For a minute, I think something’s wrong, that he’s hurt, but as he flings my truck door open and grabs for the button of my jeans, I realize he wants something else.
“Take it out. Take it the fuck out.”
He paws at my jeans as his nose drags up my neck, panting against my skin.
