Chapter 12 #2
I lean down, lips parting, and catch myself.
No.
That’s his.
That’s his to give me if he wants, not mine to take.
I push myself onto my knees, arching back to get my mouth as far from his as possible, and lift him by the hips so his ass is perfectly lined up to receive my thrusts.
He takes them so well. Moaning and writhing as I plow into him.
His entire body responds, curling and jolting from my ministrations. Shivering and clenching.
Every time I blink and open my eyes again, disbelief grows more and more acute.
I’m really here. With Lucien. It’s not a dream.
It’s happening. He’s in heat. His scent has permeated the entire cabin.
The entire mountain. My heart and my mind.
He’s being ravaged by an internal storm, and my cock is the center of his world.
My cock is the only thing he’s thinking of. The only thing he needs.
I ease my hands down, curling them around his hips so I’m holding his ass cheeks in my hands. God, it feels good. His ass is perfect. Muscular but not too hard. Soft and a little fleshy as well.
He’s perfect on the inside and the outside.
His body is stunning. Skin clear and smooth. His build is slight, with a subtle hint of muscle casting shadows on his arms and chest. His Adam’s apple juts out from the graceful column of his throat, bobbing unsteadily as he groans.
What I’d give to run my tongue over it.
My lips too.
And my teeth.
But no. No. That’s out of the question. I can’t go anywhere near his neck. Not with my lips. Not with my tongue. And definitely not with my teeth.
As it is, his scent is threatening to overpower me. It’s burned into my brain. His DNA branded into my mind. A secret sequence I know now. A sequence I won’t forget, no matter how long I live. I’m powerless against it.
I’m a slave to it.
The thought shocks me. A slave to it? What the hell? I’m an alpha. I’ve never been a slave to anything or anyone.
I need to be careful. Really careful.
To distract myself, I slow my pace and trail one hand up and down Lucien’s flat chest, watching with gratification as his back arches into my touch. I love it. Love seeing him like this. Love making him feel good.
Love being close to him.
Want to be closer.
Want to be closer.
Have to be closer.
I take a sharp breath and pull out of him completely as I try to collect myself. Jesus. What’s happening to me?
He bucks and struggles as his gaping hole frantically clenches on nothing.
I hum to soothe him and enter him again quickly, using a different angle and a shallower thrust this time.
I hold the base of my cock firmly in one hand, keeping my wits about me as I hit his gland with surgical precision.
It works. His eyes fly open and every muscle in his body contracts.
“Oh, fucking, fuck!” he yells, clawing wildly at the bedsheets. “Fuck me, that feels good.”
I do it again.
And again.
I do it until he’s stopped thrashing, until he’s frozen in a mask of searing pleasure.
He’s close. I can feel it. I need to get him there fast, so I can catch my breath and regroup.
I reach down and stroke my fingers lightly up the seam of his balls.
He whines, eyes flashing in consternation as I approach his little cock.
He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.
“I know I can’t touch your dick,” I say quietly.
“I know you aren’t ready for that, but I can do this.
” I stroke his balls again, watching as they pull achingly tight against his body.
His dick is weeping. Skin pulled tight and dark red.
I do it again, using my fingernails to graze sensitive skin as lightly as humanly possible.
His entire body starts trembling.
He’s looking at me when he comes. His eyes go wide and unfocused for several seconds before rolling back. His hole convulses, spasming around me as he sprays a thick load of cream all over his chest.
My own orgasm finds me, rendering me weightless for a beat before slamming into me like a freight train. Tension I’ve carried for years solidifies and turns to stone. A hard, solid sculpture of me levitates, brittle and heavy, before shattering into pieces.
I roar like an animal as I splinter.
I fall heavily onto Lucien, gasping and panting as I wait for the pieces of me to find their way back to each other.
When I regain use of my arms and legs, I try to push myself off him, but he stops me, capturing me by circling his legs around my waist. He holds me where I am as I soften.
His eyes search mine. For what? I don’t know.
He doesn’t say a word and doesn’t move for a long time.
When he does, it’s to raise two fingers to my lips.
He traces the bottom one and then the seam between them.
I part them and show him my tongue. I’m not sure why I do it, but he smiles lazily at it all the same.
Then he dips his fingers into my mouth, thoughtfully, swirling them around, getting them good and wet before withdrawing them.
He looks at them thoughtfully. Fingertips wet, shiny with my saliva.
His hand moves slowly, shaky but sure, as he puts them in his mouth. He smiles around them and moans softly as he tastes me. Things inside me collapse in on themselves.