8. Sven
Eight
Sven
She tastes like fucking everything. I’ve got her pinned to the door, her mouth open under mine. She’s making these little sounds that go straight down my spine to my cock, and I’m holding myself together by pure willpower. And it’s running out.
Esme grabbed my sweater with her small hands and hauled me into her like she couldn’t wait another second, and the scent of her slick hit the air the second our mouths met and now it’s everywhere, thick and sweet and fucking wild, the smell of a body that needs, that’s ready, that craves to take me. Fucking all of me.
Mine. The word’s pounding inside my head. Mine, mine, take her, she’s right here, she’s begging, take…
No.
Not like this. Not against a door her first month in town. I made myself a promise and I’m keeping it if it kills me, and right now it feels like it’s going to kill me.
But I want to give her everything. I want to give her this.
“Esme.” I drag my mouth off hers, down her throat. She gasps and tilts her head back to give me more access, and the scent at her pulse nearly takes me out.
“Sven,” she breathes.
Good fucking girl.
I get my hand under the hem of her dress. Up her thigh, slow, my palm so big it covers half her leg, she’s shaking, and when I get to the top, when I touch her over her ruined underwear, she’s so wet it’s soaked through, my fingers slide against the fabric and she cries out and bucks into my hand.
“Fuck,” I growl against her throat. “Look at you. This wet from a kiss.”
“Sven…”
I pull the fabric aside and touch her bare and we both groan. She’s drenched. Hot and slick and swollen, I drag one finger up through her, slow, find her clit, circle it, and she damn near climbs me.
“That’s it.” My voice is low as I keep circling, watching her face come apart in the dim light. “Let me feel you, love. Been thinking about this since the alley. Since before the alley.” I circle, press. “Since you laughed at me in that booth like I wasn’t something to be scared of.”
She’s writhing on my hand, one leg hooked up over my hip, opening herself to me, the scent of her is making my head swim and my cock is so hard behind my zipper it aches, I want to drop to my knees right here, put my mouth on her and eat her out until she fucking screams.
But not ye, not tonight.
“I’m going to put a finger inside you,” I tell her, rough, against her ear. “Just one. You feel how big my hands are?” I press the pad of one finger to her entrance, just resting there, and she whimpers. “One’s going to be a lot, little one. We go slow. You take what you can.”
“I can take it…”
“I know you can, baby.” I push inside her wet, hot, soft, perfect cunt.
Just the tip. Just the first knuckle, working into her slow, and she’s so tight even that much makes her gasp and clamp down on me, her whole body seizing around the intrusion, I groan into her neck because Christ, she’s like a fist, like silk and heat and a vice and I’m only one fucking knuckle in.
“There.” I hold it, let her stretch around me, let her adjust. “Breathe. There’s more.”
“More,” she pants. “Please, Sven…”
I give her the next knuckle and she arches off the door.
I feel her body fight it and then give, fight and give, taking me by degrees, and I work my finger deeper one slow stretch at a time, each knuckle a step, each one pulling a sound out of her, and by the time we’re on the last one she’s a shaking wet mess on my hand.
I haven’t even started moving, and she’s already close, her inner walls fluttering around me.
“That’s all of it,” I whisper in her ear.
“You took all of it.” I curl it, slow, and she sobs.
“You feel how full you are right now? Such a good girl for me, sweetheart.” I thrust nice and slow.
Fuck… God help me. “This is why we go slow, sweetheart. I can’t give you all of me yet; your body needs time, and I’m going to give it all the time in the world.
” She’s drunk, fucking gone, not hearing any of my words, just rocking on my hand chasing her pleasure.
I give it to her in slow drags, in and out, that one thick finger working her, my thumb back on her clit, and she falls apart fast…
too far gone to last, wound up since the alley, since the restaurant, since I put my hand on her knee…
I feel it coming and press my mouth to her ear.
“Come on, love.” A low growl. “Come on my hand. Let me feel it, baby. Good girl.”
She breaks, coming around my finger with a cry she muffles in my shoulder, clenching down so hard it nearly undoes me, her whole body shaking, her slick gushing hot over my hand, and I work her through every fucking pulse, slow and deep, until she’s wrung out and limp, panting against my chest. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced, and I want to do it all over again, right now, and for the rest of my whole fucking life.
And my cock is fucking screaming. My omega is right fucking here, wrecked and open and mine, her leg still hooked over my hip, and the most primal part in me is fucking howling to free myself, line up, push in and finish, claim my mate, fucking breed her, fucking now…
Instead, I ease my finger out.
Esme whimpers at the loss, boneless against the door. I take a step back, and it is the hardest thing I have done in my entire damn life. The growl that’s been building in my chest the whole time is constant now, low and ragged, and I can’t stop it.
She blinks up at me, dazed, drunk, her dress shoved up, her eyes glazed over, her fucking perfect mouth swollen.
“Aren’t you going to…” she starts breathlessly.
“No.” I grunt out. “Not tonight.”
“But…” Confusion flickers through the haze. “You’re…”
“I know.” I growl. I’m so hard it’s a fucking miracle I can still think straight. “Not. Tonight,” I repeat, my voice infusing with a hint of alpha bark.
And I know I won’t be able to hold it together much longer, not standing here with her scent all over my hand and her fucking intoxicating taste still in my mouth. I need her behind a locked door before the last of my control goes.
“Get inside,” I tell her.
“Sven…”
“Esme.” It comes out as the full bark, the alpha command, low and hard, and I watch it move through her, watch her body respond to it before her brain does. I hate that I had to use it, but I’d do it again to keep my girl safe. “Inside. Please,” I add in a more gentle tone.
She fumbles the door open behind her. Steps back into her apartment, still staring at me, still wrecked and confused and so fucking beautiful it hurts.
“Lock the door,” I growl. “Soon as it’s shut. Lock it.”
“Sven, baby…”
“Lock the door, little one,” I rumble.
Her breath catches, and she nods.
The door closes. And I stand there in the hallway like a ravaged beast, waiting. A second later I hear the deadbolt slide; only then do I let myself breathe.
I walk out into the cold, hard as steel, the feel of my mate still all over my hand, a growl still rolling in my chest, every cell in my body in open revolt against the decision I just made.
Soon, I tell myself, getting into my truck and gripping the wheel. I’m fucking doing this right.
She took one finger tonight. We’ve got a long way to go, and all the time in the world to get there.