Chapter Twelve #5
If these encounters were going to be my only chance to feel craved, to have some semblance of the passionate intimacy I yearned for, even if it was a guise, why not take advantage?
I could return to hating his guts afterwards.
I rose onto my knees, meeting his intense stare as I unbuttoned the rest of my shirt and stripped it off my arms, throwing it onto the floor at his feet.
He stopped, glancing down at it before crouching to pick it up.
He stood, bringing it to his face and inhaling deeply, his eye closing.
A breath lodged in my throat. My cock twitched.
His gaze locked onto mine as his free hand dropped to his belt, deftly unbuckling it without hassle. He pulled down his zip, and with my shirt flush to his nose, he slid his fingers into his briefs and palmed his cock, his hips flexing forward.
My fucking god.
My lips parted, my skin heating. My underwear was fucking soaked.
He took out his length, every thick inch displayed to me, and he stroked himself as I gawked.
His muscles bunched with the movement, the veins in his forearm bulging as he slid his hand from root to tip.
It wasn’t quick, it was indulgent, a presentation.
His stomach spasmed as he inhaled and exhaled, drinking in my pheromones straight from the fabric, a faint rumble vibrating from his chest.
I could almost feel that sound mirrored behind my ribs, rattling my bones, and it snapped me into focus. He’d ordered me to undress, so why wasn’t I naked?
My fingers only fumbled a little as I undid my trousers, and maintaining eye contact, I shucked them down my legs and off, kicking them aside.
I sat back on the mattress, knees bent and wide apart.
Propping myself on one elbow, my other hand snaked between my spread legs, and Caine’s motions stuttered.
A wicked grin split my face.
“I can tease too,” I said, rubbing my fingertips around my hole, spreading the wetness.
My cheeks were slick with it, so there was more than enough to ease the glide as I plunged two digits inside.
We groaned in unison. “Fuck,” I gasped, the stretch divine, and I didn’t waste a second before withdrawing and sinking back in.
Caine growled, fisting his cock faster, rougher.
I matched his pace, rocking down onto my fingers, fucking myself loose for him.
My other hand cupped my chest, pinching my nipple between my thumb and forefinger, my dick jerking at the zing of pain.
“So good,” I murmured, eyeing him and rolling my bottom lip between my teeth.
His eye narrowed. “Can you remember what it feels like? To bury your cock inside me? To have my sopping wet hole clenching around your knot?”
There was a threatening sound echoing in his throat. A warning.
I was never very good at listening to warnings.
“Bet it’s so much better than your fist,” I carried on, my tone breathy and low. “Hotter. Softer. Fuck. I don’t remember how it felt . . . having you pounding into me. Were you rough? Did you use me like a toy? Could you even reach deep enough?”
“Dylan . . .”
I moaned, the dominance in his voice lighting me up from the inside out.
A little more.
I bared my teeth, glaring at him with heated defiance. “Tell me why I should let you fuck me when my fingers can make me come so much fucking harder?”
Before I could get myself there, my shirt collided with the wall and Caine growled, striding forward with purpose.
My toes curled, adrenaline spiking in my veins as he knelt on the bed between my legs, looming.
He seized my wrist, knocking my hand away, and with no reservations, he replaced my fingers with three of his.
I cried out, collapsing onto the bed, my back arching.
A triumphant smile fanned over my face as I revelled in the win.
He reached deeper, filled me more, and he nailed the pace—faster, harder, more punishing.
My hands flew to his shoulders for purchase, fingers digging in.
“Caine . . .” I moaned, grinding down eagerly onto his hand, the pleasure I’d stalled already coiling tight again at the base of my spine.
He lurched forward, anchoring his free hand next to my head, forcing my legs to splay wider around his imposing frame.
He hovered over me as his hips bucked, his cock dragging over my inner thigh.
It was filthy, desperate, and crazed. He was ruthless but precise, tormenting every spot, which had me whining with practiced ease.
The sensation of him taking. The sight of him rutting against me like a fucking animal.
The rich and musky pheromones in my nose.
It was too much, and too soon my muscles tensed, my orgasm punching through me and flooding my body with warmth and pleasure.
But he didn’t stop. Even when I started to tremble, my moans tempering into whimpers, he just drilled those nerves inside me, dragging me squirming through the realm of overstimulation and straight back up to the cusp.
Tears gathered on my lashes. “Caine . . . Caine, I can’t!”
“Take it,” he snarled, his eye blazing with darkness. “You fucking brat.”
Despite my claims, I came again within minutes, my nails scoring bloody trails down his arms, my legs kicking out as I writhed against the sheets.
It was too intense, I couldn’t even sob, and I wasn’t even sure my dick released anything.
My body wasn’t my own; my soul was levitating in the fucking sky, and the room was veiled in white.
Caine drew his fingers out, finally giving me a reprieve, leaving me gulping for air.
His hips faltered, and with a grunt, he shot his load over my thigh, adding to the mess.
He dropped to his elbow, his head hanging as he huffed his relief into my shoulder.
I was a fucked-out heap on the bed, no hope of moving anytime soon, so I closed my eyes, catching my breath, sailing through the aftershocks of pleasure.
This was only the beginning.
As if hearing my thought, Caine’s pheromones grew headier, a rush of them sweeping over me, making my spent body shiver.
Two of his fingers swept through our combined release, lifting to my scent gland to rub it into the skin before doing the same to his own—dabbing it on as if it were his favourite cologne. Possessive prick.
He mouthed at me again, starting at my ear, nipping at the shell before drifting downward, licking and biting at my nipples, my tattoos, sucking deep, purple bruises between the gaps.
He lapped up any cum along his path and lingered on my belly button, rolling the silver bar playfully between his teeth, then he moved lower, pausing . . .
His head tilted, and he leaned in, his mouth brushing over my birthing scar.
Reflexively, my arms moved to cover it. I’d never felt particularly self-conscious about my marks and scars—they were proof of my beautiful baby girl, and I wore them with pride—but I’d never had anyone stare at them in this capacity.
At least not while coherent, so I wasn’t given the opportunity to be nervous about it.
I found myself feeling slightly nervous now.
The Alpha batted my hands away, securing them at my sides. Judging by the glaze over his eye, he was losing control. Fast. “You carried our child,” he rumbled. “Let me show your body the appreciation it deserves for that blessing alone.”
My brain short-circuited, eyes widening at the uncharacteristic, strangely poetic statement. Hell, a rut really did wipe the slate back to basics, huh?
“You don’t mind them?” I asked, despite my usual disinterest in his opinion.
“Why would I? They’re a part of you,” he said vaguely—as if it answered anything—before dipping forward to shower each inch of skin with reverence. Worship. My stretch marks, the entire scar, leaving not an inch without a wet sheen and lasting prickle from his coarse hair.
My heart clenched without my authority.
Clearly contented by his efforts, and ready for the main event, Caine flipped me onto my belly and manhandled my hips into the air.
I fell onto my elbows, presenting properly.
The disobedient streak in me bristled, but it would be the comfiest position if he knotted me.
He tugged me closer, grinding his cock against my arse in a pantomime of the real thing.
My hole spurted out more slick, the squelching sound entirely too loud, but thankfully my mortified blush could be hidden in the pillow.
Caine groaned behind me. “Such a good little omega. So wet for your Alpha.”
“You’re not my Alpha yet,” I muttered, not able to stop myself from goading him, even though my stomach fluttered with a touch of nerves.
This would be where we made it permanent.
We’d bite each other and there would be no going back.
Ever. We’d be connected, body and soul, and even in death, neither of us could move on.
I’d known it was going to happen, had prepared as best I could, but now, faced with the glaring reality, it was hitting me all at once. I had to taunt him, to carry on the act, if only to distract from the inevitable and give off the illusion I wasn’t conflicted.
Caine leaned over me, forming his body to my back. He pressed his lips to my shoulder, and the tenderness of the gesture made my chest constrict. His breath tickled the shell of my ear as he rasped, “I’ve been your Alpha since the day we met.”
I gasped, and he pushed inside in one smooth thrust. My body shuddered at the pressure, the fullness. Fuck, he was big. I swore I could feel him right in my throat. My hand drifted to my lower stomach, curious to know if he dented through the skin.
The Alpha hummed, smug and deliberate, the arrogant sound dancing along every knob of my spine. “Your fingers can’t make you speechless.”