40. Bet Me Now And Always
40
BET ME NOW AND ALWAYS
~MARCUS~
T he second the heavy steel doors clang shut behind us, the world shrinks down to her— and me —and the filthy promises I’ve been itching to make good on since the moment I saw her straddling that motorcycle like she fucking owned it.
Jessica's breath is still coming fast, her legs spread wide where she sits on the low, padded seat of my bike, the glossy black frame gleaming under the overhead lights. She's flushed from the ride, from the chase, from the danger she doesn't even realize she woke inside me.
I toss my helmet to the ground without a second thought, stalking toward her like the predator I am.
"Stay right there," I growl, voice low, thrumming with the weight of everything I've been holding back. "Unless you want me to spread you wide right here and now—and fuck you so hard you won't remember what you were racing for in the first place."
Her mouth quirks into that cocky, dangerous smile that makes me want to put my teeth in her throat just to remind her who the fuck she's teasing.
"Threats, old man?" she taunts, tossing her hair back, daring me.
I grip her thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to make her gasp, and shove her knees wider apart on the bike seat. Her skirt rides up, the black and crimson check pattern bunched obscenely around her hips. No panties. Of course she isn’t wearing any. She never makes it easy.
"Not a threat," I murmur, dipping my head until my mouth brushes against the slick, glistening folds between her legs. "A guarantee."
She jerks, a choked-off moan escaping her lips as I drag my tongue through the sweet mess of her cunt, slow and deliberate. I savor her—every taste, every trembling twitch of her body under my mouth.
"Hold still," I rumble against her folds, the vibration making her shudder. "Grip the handles. Keep your ass planted. Or I'll fuck you so deep into this seat you'll forget your own name."
Her hands scramble for the handlebars, white-knuckled, and I feel a savage satisfaction bloom in my chest. Good girl.
I work her open with my mouth first, slow and thorough, lapping and sucking until she's panting, leaking, the slick sounds of me eating her out echoing off the cold metal walls of the garage. I slide one finger into her tight, wet heat, then two, stretching her open as she whines, desperate and trembling.
Her hips buck, trying to chase the rhythm of my tongue, the drive of my fingers. I let her have it for a few seconds—let her think she's in control—before pulling back just enough to make her whimper.
"Nuh-uh, baby," I murmur, glancing up at her. Her eyes are glazed, mouth open, those pretty noises pouring out of her in broken gasps. God, she sounds fucking perfect when she forgets how to fight me.
"You want to come," I tell her, licking a lazy stripe up her soaked slit, "you're gonna do it steady. Right here. Right now."
I curl my fingers inside her, stroking that sweet spot that makes her cry out, and watch her fight to obey, fight to hold herself still when every instinct screams for her to move. She's dripping, clenching around my fingers, her scent thick and sweet and fucking addictive.
I'm so hard it hurts, throbbing against the zipper of my riding pants. I can't help it—pulling my cock free with one hand, stroking myself as I lick and finger her. Slick sounds, wet and filthy, fill the garage. Every time she moans, my cock twitches in my hand, desperate to be inside her.
I pull my fingers free with a wet pop and sit back slightly, stroking the swollen head of my cock along her folds, smearing her slick all over my length. Teasing. Tormenting.
"You ready for me to fuck you?" I ask, voice rough, barely human.
Jessica opens those beautiful blue eyes, glinting with heat and mischief even through the haze of lust. She gives me that fucking grin—the one that says she's about to cause trouble—and purrs, "I don't know... you think your geriatric ass can keep up?"
A dark, gravelly laugh rips out of me, and my cock jerks against her slick pussy.
"Let's bet, pretty girl," I rasp, lining myself up with her entrance, pushing just the head of my cock inside her, feeling that first delicious stretch as her tight, wet heat sucks me in. "Let's see who falls apart first."
She opens her mouth—probably to throw another insult—but it cuts off in a strangled cry as I slam the rest of the way in with one brutal thrust.
Her back arches, her hands white-knuckling the handlebars, a high, broken moan tearing from her throat.
"That's it," I growl, driving deeper, grinding my hips against hers. "Fucking take it. Take all of me."
I grab her hips, using them like handles as I start to fuck her hard and deep, every thrust forcing those perfect little noises out of her throat. She's wrecked, and I'm nowhere near done.
I lean over her, caging her in with my body, my hands gripping the metal frame of the bike on either side of her. I drive into her, relentless, savoring every slick, tight squeeze of her cunt around my cock.
"You feel that, baby?" I pant against her ear, voice rough and raw. "Feel how deep I am? How fucking good you take me?"
She tries to sass me—tries to say something smart—but all that comes out is a breathless whimper. Music to my ears.
I pull back just enough to see her face, flushed and desperate, her hair sticking to her cheeks with sweat. I slow down deliberately, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, making her sob.
"Still think I can't keep up?" I taunt, hips pistoning faster now, driving her up the seat with every brutal thrust.
She gasps, "F-fuck you?—"
I grin, dark and wicked, and slam into her harder, making her cry out.
"That's the idea, sweetheart," I growl.
Her orgasm hits her like a fucking freight train. I feel it—her whole body locking up, cunt clenching around me like a vise, a strangled scream ripping from her lips as she shatters apart.
And fuck, she’s so beautiful like this. Wild and wrecked and mine.
I barely hold on, pounding into her through the spasms, chasing my own release. When I come, it’s with a roar, burying myself as deep as I can, spilling inside her with shuddering, brutal pleasure.
I stay buried inside her for a long moment, both of us panting, bodies trembling.
Then I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers, still buried deep inside that perfect, wrecked little body.
"I win," I murmur against her lips, savoring the wrecked whimper she gives me in return.
She's still trembling under me, her body spent and slick with sweat, when she has the audacity to lift her head and flash me a wicked, breathless grin.
"That... was it?" she pants, voice wrecked but still sharp enough to cut. "Old man like you... that's all you got?"
The words are a whipcrack across my control.
I feel her cunt flutter around me, milking my cock even after she came so hard she screamed for it. She’s still squeezing me, still slick and so fucking tight, like her body’s as hungry for me as her mouth is for trouble.
My vision narrows.
Every instinct, every dark, brutal thing I’ve kept locked up for seven goddamn years, roars to the surface.
"You have no idea what you've just asked for," I rasp, voice raw and dangerous, already moving.
I wrench her off the seat, spinning her effortlessly until she's bent over the tank of the bike, chest pressed against the cold metal, ass tilted up perfectly for me. Her skirt rides even higher, the fabric bunched uselessly around her waist.
Jessica gasps, the sudden movement knocking the air out of her lungs, but she laughs—a bright, wild sound that sparks straight down my spine.
God, she wants this.
She wants me feral.
I drag my cock through her soaked folds, coating myself in her slick, feeling the way her pussy quivers like it’s starving for more. I could tease her. Could make her beg.
But not here in the midst of the forest.
Not after she called me out.
Not after she dared.
I fist a hand in her hair, yanking her head back so she’s forced to look at me, eyes wide and dark with need.
"You’re about to learn, little girl," I growl low against her ear, "exactly what happens when you mouth off to an Alpha who doesn’t give a fuck about playing nice."
She shivers, pressing her hips back, grinding her ass against my cock in a blatant challenge.
"Big words," she taunts, breathless. "You sure your hips can take it, grandpa?"
A savage sound rips from my chest—half growl, half laugh—and then I drive into her again, hard enough to jolt the bike forward an inch with the force of it.
Jessica screams, a high, broken sound that bounces off the steel walls.
I don't stop.
I set a brutal rhythm, pounding into her with relentless, punishing thrusts, forcing her to take every inch, every savage stroke. Her hands scramble for purchase on the slick tank, her nails clawing uselessly against the metal.
She's trying to stay steady, trying to keep up with me, but her body betrays her—jerking forward with every brutal snap of my hips.
"F-fuck!" she gasps, head tossing back, hair whipping wild around her face.
I lean over her, crowding her in, driving her down against the bike until she can’t do anything but take it.
"Thought you wanted more," I snarl into her ear, dragging my teeth along the shell before biting down just hard enough to make her yelp. "Thought you said I couldn’t keep up."
Her cunt clamps down on me like a vice, squeezing, milking, the hot, wet pull of her making it almost fucking impossible to hold back.
Mine.
The word drums through my skull with every brutal thrust.
Not just tonight.
Not just on this bike.
Always.
I slide one hand down her stomach, finding her clit, slick and swollen and desperate for more attention. I circle it hard and fast, knowing she’s right on the edge already, wanting to shove her off it again.
"Come," I command, voice nothing but gravel. "Now."
Jessica shakes her head frantically, stubborn even now.
"No—f-fuck, not?—!"
I slam into her harder, grinding my cock against the sweet spot deep inside her with each thrust, my fingers merciless on her clit.
She breaks with a shattered sob, her whole body seizing, her pussy clamping down on me so tight I see stars.
She comes screaming, shaking so violently I have to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from collapsing onto the floor.
I don't stop.
Not yet.
I ride out her orgasm with savage, punishing thrusts, stretching her, stuffing her full, using her trembling body like it belongs to me.
When she finally starts to sag against the bike, whimpering, I pull out.
Only to flip her around again—her back slamming against the gas tank, her legs falling open without hesitation, her slick folds glistening and red, swollen from how hard I’ve fucked her.
"Think we're done?" I sneer, stroking my cock slowly, letting her watch it glisten with her cum.
Jessica smiles, soft and wrecked and utterly unrepentant.
"Not if you're serious about keeping up, old man."
Fucking hell.
I grab her knees and shove them wide, exposing every soaked, trembling inch of her, and line myself up again.
"No mercy," I promise, voice dark and low.
She laughs, breathless and delirious.
"Wouldn't fucking want it."
I drive into her hard, one brutal thrust that has her crying out, nails raking down my back through my jacket, mouth falling open in a silent scream.
This time, there’s no slow build. No teasing.
Just raw, savage need.
I fuck her like I own her, hips slamming into hers so hard the bike rocks under us, the metal groaning in protest. Every thrust punches desperate little cries from her throat, every grind of my pelvis against her clit wringing more broken sounds out of her.
She’s drenched, soaking my cock, the obscene wet sounds of our bodies crashing together filling the garage.
"You're mine," I snarl, voice harsh and desperate against her throat. "You fucking hear me, Jessica?"
She moans, head tossing side to side, too wrecked to fight me anymore.
"Say it," I growl, snapping my hips harder. "Say you're mine."
She gasps, clutching at me, nails digging into my shoulders like she’s trying to anchor herself.
"M-Marcus," she sobs, barely coherent. "Yours. Fuck—yours."
The last shred of control I had snaps cleanly.
I grab her hips and drive into her with savage, brutal thrusts, chasing my own orgasm as her body milks me, begging for it.
When I come, it's with a roar, burying myself to the hilt, spilling deep inside her, grinding against her until I'm sure every fucking drop stays where it belongs.
Jessica sags against me, boneless and wrecked, her legs trembling, her breath coming in soft, broken gasps against my throat.
I hold her there, cradled against my chest, my cock still buried inside her, feeling the aftershocks of both our orgasms rolling through her body.
Perfect.
Fucking perfect.
I press my mouth to her hair, breathing her in, letting the savage drum of my pulse slowly ease back into something like control.
"You were saying something," I murmur roughly against her temple. "About me not being able to keep up?"
She laughs—broken, breathless, beautiful.
"Maybe... I underestimated your old ass," she slurs.
I chuckle low in my chest, nuzzling against her, savoring the way her body molds to mine.
"Bet you won't make that mistake again."
"Maybe," she teases, even half-dead from orgasm. "Maybe I just like pissing you off."
I smile against her hair, feeling something dangerous and possessive unfurl deep inside me.
"Oh, pretty girl," I murmur. "You have no fucking idea how much trouble you're in."
And next time?
I won't be so goddamn merciful.
Jessica’s still trembling, limp against me, when I finally ease back, forcing myself to go slow despite the primal satisfaction clawing at my gut.
I don’t want to let her go.
Don’t want to stop feeling the way she clenches down, milking every last drop of me like her body refuses to let me leave.
But I have to. For now.
Carefully, I pull out, biting back a groan at the obscene wet sound of it — my cock still hard, still swollen, glistening with both our release.
Jessica gasps, legs twitching from aftershocks, a soft, broken whimper escaping her lips.
"Easy," I murmur, voice rough as I tuck myself back inside my pants, ignoring the way my knot still throbs for her. Later.
Not here. Not like this.
I pull a cloth from the saddlebag, one I keep tucked away for emergencies, and wipe between her trembling thighs, cleaning her up with careful, possessive strokes.
She hisses when I swipe over her overstimulated clit, but her legs fall open wider, a silent offering that makes something primal snarl inside my chest.
Fuck, this girl.
This Omega .
I toss the cloth aside and move to lift her off the bike, but she stops me — fingers curling around my jacket, tugging me back until my chest slams lightly into the cool metal of the gas tank.
Jessica’s smirk is pure sin, even through her flushed exhaustion.
"You really think," she pants, voice wrecked but teasing, "you're gonna tame that knot without letting me say hello first?"
I choke on a laugh, the sound bursting out of me raw and helpless.
God help me, she’s going to be the death of me.
She reaches between us boldly, her small, strong hand cupping the heavy bulge of my knot through my pants.
A low, guttural grunt rips from my throat, my hips jerking instinctively toward her touch.
"Fuck, sweetheart," I hiss, biting down on my bottom lip hard enough to taste blood as she massages me through the fabric, slow and deliberate. "You keep doing that?—"
Her hand moves higher, fingers stroking along my thick shaft with wicked intent, teasing the pulsing vein that runs along the underside.
"—and I'm gonna have to fuck you all over again."
She giggles — the sound sweet, devastating — and leans up, brushing her mouth against mine in a teasing, fluttering kiss.
"You can," she whispers against my lips, the words sending a violent shudder through my entire body. "If you want."
If.
If I want.
I grab her hips, grinding her against my thigh, my body screaming to take her again, rougher, deeper, to knot her so thoroughly that she'd never tease me like this again without thinking twice.
But I force myself to breathe. To remember the plan.
The real reason we’re here.
"I have every fucking intention of doing that," I growl, nipping at her bottom lip just hard enough to make her gasp. "But first?—"
I pull back slightly, grinning when she whines in protest.
"First, we’re going for a ride."
Her nose scrunches adorably. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." I grab her helmet from where it fell, settling it back over her head before reaching for mine. "You keep up this time, pretty girl. I'll make it worth your while."
The heat in her eyes tells me she already knows I will.
We mount our bikes in tandem, engines roaring to life with matching growls.
The sound echoes in the cavernous space, raw and thrilling.
I gun the throttle and peel out, hearing her whoop of excitement behind me as she rockets after me, hot on my heels.
The ride up the mountain is fast, reckless.
The winding roads blur around us in a rush of fall colors — gold and crimson and burnt orange, the last dying gasp of autumn before winter claims the world.
Jessica rides like she was born for this — fearless, fluid, sharp.
I catch glimpses of her in my mirrors, her body leaning into the curves, her hair whipping out from beneath her helmet like a flame.
Pride surges hot in my chest.
Mine.
Even if she doesn’t fully realize it yet.
Mine in every way that matters.
As we climb higher, the trees thin, the road narrowing into a rougher path meant for people who don't mind a little risk.
When we crest a final steep turn, the view opens up like a fucking painting.
And Jessica slows — I see it instantly — her bike dropping back, her body straightening as she takes it all in.
The valley sprawls out below us, a patchwork of vibrant fall color bleeding into dusky blue shadows. The setting sun burns the horizon, throwing molten gold across the landscape.
But it's not the view that makes her gasp.
Not really.
It's the clearing just ahead, tucked behind a grove of crimson maples.
A perfect picnic spread waits there, under a massive oak still stubbornly clinging to its fiery leaves.
A thick wool blanket laid out on the grass, weighted down with real silverware and wine glasses.
A basket spilling over with gourmet food — cheeses, meats, fresh bread.
A bottle of dark red wine breathing beside two glasses already half-filled.
And, almost absurdly, a small stack of worn books — titles she had bookmarked recently online, ones she hadn’t even had the chance to buy yet because she didn’t know where she’d end up.
She slows to a stop, putting her feet down, the bike humming quietly between her thighs as she just stares.
I pull up beside her, cutting my engine, and swing my leg over the bike with deliberate slowness.
Her visor is up, revealing wide, stunned blue eyes that shimmer suspiciously with unshed tears.
I smile — soft, warm, aching with all the things I can’t say out loud yet — and offer her my hand.
She stares at it for a second like she doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.
Then she takes it.
Her fingers are cold despite her gloves, trembling slightly.
I pull her to her feet, steadying her when she sways.
"I’m still a little old-fashioned," I murmur, brushing a lock of hair back from her damp forehead. "Figured… a nice picnic. Watching the last bit of autumn before winter locks us in."
I hesitate, the words clawing at my throat, but push through.
"Figured it was the right way to… initiate you into our pack."
Her breath catches audibly.
Tears spill over, slipping down her flushed cheeks in shining rivers.
Jessica stares at me like I’ve torn the ground out from under her.
Like she doesn’t know whether to run or fall to her knees.
I tighten my grip on her hand.
"I’m not waiting," I say fiercely, needing her to hear it, to believe it. "Not for another life-or-death scare. Not for you to be ready on someone else's timeline."
I step closer, pressing her hand against my chest so she can feel the savage pounding of my heart.
"You’re the Omega we need," I whisper, voice rough with emotion. "The one I need. And I’m not going to waste another fucking second pretending otherwise."
Jessica shakes her head like she’s trying to deny it, but I don’t let her pull away.
I cup her face in both hands, tilting her up to meet my gaze.
"When we end this — when Prescott and Caldwell are nothing but rotting memories — we’re putting you into heat so deep you’ll forget you ever survived without us."
Her lips tremble.
"We’re going to love you, Jessica," I vow, dropping my forehead to rest against hers. "The way you should’ve been loved all along. We’re going to give you the life that was stolen from you."
A ragged, broken sob escapes her — and then she surges forward, throwing her arms around my neck, clutching me as tight as her trembling body allows.
I catch her easily, lifting her off the ground, holding her against me like I’ll never let her go again.
She buries her face against my throat, her breath hot and wet against my skin.
And then, so soft I almost miss it, she whispers:
"Thank you."
Two simple words.
But they land harder than any vow, any promise.
Because they mean she believes me.
Trusts me.
Wants this.
I close my eyes, tightening my grip around her, breathing her in, grounding myself in the unbelievable, unbearable reality of having her here, in my arms, finally letting herself hope.
Finally ours.
Not someday.Not if.
Now.