Chapter 7 Kit
KIT
The kiss breaks when I run out of air. I pull back just far enough to breathe as Easton's hand tightens on the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair, holding me close enough that his exhale ghosts across my lips. My fist is still clenched in his shirt.
"This doesn't mean anything," I tell him. My voice sounds like it's been scraped raw.
"Okay." His thumb traces the line of my jaw.
"I'm serious. This is still punishment."
"Sure it is."
"Stop agreeing with me. It's infuriating."
"Would you rather I pin you against the wall and shut you up?"
The words land somewhere below my stomach and detonate.
My scent spikes so hard that Easton's nostrils flare, his pupils blowing wide, and the hand on the back of my neck tightens enough that I feel every individual finger.
My Omega rolls over so fast it makes me dizzy, baring its throat with a desperation that would humiliate me if I had the capacity to feel anything beyond the heat flooding my body right now.
"You couldn't if you tried," I say, my voice shaking on the last word.
He doesn't answer with words. He moves, one fluid shift that walks me backward until my shoulders hit the wall beside his door.
His hand stays on my neck, his other arm bracing above my head.
All I can see is his chest, his throat, and his jaw.
All I can smell is bourbon and cedar so thick it makes my thoughts go slow and syrupy.
Heat floods between my thighs, slick gathering in my briefs as my cock starts to fill in my pants. This is the thing I never tell anyone. The thing I barely admit to myself at three in the morning when my guard is down. I love this.
Being an Omega, the slick and the surrender and the way my whole system lights up when an Alpha puts me where he wants me.
I love it and I'm ashamed of loving it and the shame makes the heat burn hotter and the combination of those two things, the want and the self-loathing, has been the quiet war inside me since the day I presented.
Easton doesn't know any of that. He just knows I'm trembling against his wall and my scent is telling him everything my mouth refuses to. I only hate this because it’s him.
"You were saying?" His voice is low enough that I feel it vibrate through his chest.
"Fuck you."
"That's not what you were saying."
I grab the front of his shirt and pull him down into another kiss because it's the only way to shut us both up.
This one is harder, all teeth and the sharp bite of anger that hasn't dissolved into whatever is replacing it.
Easton growls against my mouth as his hand slides from my neck into my hair and pulls.
My head tips back and the sound that comes out of me is obscene, loud enough to bounce off his walls, desperate enough that any other night I'd want to die of embarrassment.
Easton's mouth finds my throat, his teeth scraping along my jaw and I arch into him so hard my spine leaves the wall, my hips pressing forward against his thigh before I can stop them.
"Still punishment?" he murmurs against my skin.
"Shut up." I yank him back up and kiss him again, biting his bottom lip hard enough to make him hiss.
He retaliates by pressing his full weight against me, pinning me flat with his hips, and the size difference becomes something I experience with my entire body.
His chest against mine, his thigh between my legs, his hands in my hair and on my hip.
Every time I think I've found the floor of what I can feel, he shifts against me and there's another level beneath it.
I shove at his chest because fighting is the only language we speak.
He catches both of my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head.
My wrists look small in his grip and the sight of his fingers wrapped around them does something to the locked box inside my chest where I keep every fantasy I've ever been too proud to admit to.
"Let go," I push out but I don't mean it. My hips roll forward against his thigh, a whimper of need falling from my lips.
"Make me," he says, throwing my words back.
He kisses me again, slower this time, my brain short-circuiting a little. His free hand on my hip starts massaging the bare skin just beneath my shirt. My struggling slows and I start to relax, the fight draining out of me until I’m melting for this Alpha I hate.
A soft sound of surrender falls from my lips as Easton pulls back to look at my face. His grip on my wrists gentles, thumb stroking my pulse point.
"Good boy," he says.
Everything stops. My body locks, a crack running through every defense I've built since the first time an Alpha called me "just an Omega" and my body responded with arousal instead of anger.
I don't know if I want to scream or dissolve and my throat closes around a sound I refuse to release, my whole body trembling against the wall as Easton watches it happen.
His expression shifts from heat to concern, his brow furrowing. "Kit?" Softer than I've ever heard him.
I answer with my mouth, grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him back down into a kiss so hard our teeth click. If I'm kissing him I'm not crying. If I'm biting his lip until he groans I'm not thinking about the way I should be still hating this Alpha.
Easton's hands drop to my waist, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise through the fabric, and I arch into the pain because pain is easier than whatever just happened between us.
"This doesn't mean anything," I say against his mouth, already pulling at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons.
He lifts me, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs as my legs wrap around his waist, and carries me from the wall to the bed in three strides.
My back hits the mattress and he's over me before I can breathe, his weight pressing me into the sheets.
The feeling of being covered by someone this much bigger than me, surrounded by his scent and his warmth and the solid mass of his body, makes my Omega purr so loudly that the sound vibrates through my chest and into his.
I hate that sound. I hate what it means and I hate that Easton can feel it and I hate that his breath stutters when he does, his hips grinding down against mine in a slow roll that drags a moan out of me before I can stop it.
Another gush of slick soaks through my underwear, and when Easton's hand slides down my stomach and past my waistband his fingers find the evidence of how badly I want this and his whole body goes taut above me.
He slowly drags down my pants and then my briefs, his fingers sliding then moving between my cheeks.
"Fuck, Kit." His voice comes out in a growl full of desire, his forehead dropping against mine as his fingers slide through the slick and press against me with a confidence that makes my spine bow off the mattress. "You're so wet."
"Don't talk about it." I tug at his shirt, yanking it over his head because if I have to look at his face right now I'm going to fall apart again and I've already fallen apart once tonight, which is one time more than I've allowed myself in two years.
His chest is broad and the tattoo I've glimpsed at his collar extends further than I expected, curling over his shoulder and down across his pec, and I dig my nails into it because tenderness is terrifying and violence is safe.
Easton hisses and retaliates by pulling my sweater over my head in one motion, the pearl necklace catching briefly before settling back against my bare skin.
His mouth finds my collarbone, his teeth scraping along it as his hand works between my legs, fingers pressing inside me with a slow push that makes me gasp and grab his shoulders hard enough to leave crescents in his skin.
He curls his fingers and my vision shorts out, my hips bucking up into his hand.
"More," I demand, because demanding is safer than asking. "Stop being gentle."
His fingers thrust harder and deeper, the Alpha adding a third with a stretch that burns exactly the way I need it to, the edge of pain grounding me in my body and away from whatever is happening in my chest.
I'm panting against his throat, my legs spread around his hips, slick running down the inside of my thighs and soaking into his sheets, and some distant part of my brain registers that his room is going to smell like me for days and the possessive satisfaction I feel about that is deeply concerning.
Easton pulls his hand away and I make a sound of protest that I will deny to my grave.
He strips the rest of our clothes with a speed that tells me he's as desperate as I am, and when I feel his cock press against my hole, my Omega keens with a hunger that bypasses every rational thought I have left.
"Tell me to stop," he says, his arms braced on either side of my head, his jaw tight with the effort of holding still. His eyes search mine, the Alpha giving me an out, and the fact that he's offering it while every muscle in his body is shaking with restraint makes me melt just a little more.
"If you stop I'll kill you," I tell him, Easton chuckling before he pushes inside me in one long, slow thrust that steals every word I've ever known.
The stretch is overwhelming, my muscles clenching and releasing around him as slick eases the way, and by the time he bottoms out I'm gripping the sheets, my mouth open on a silent moan. I can feel him everywhere, pressing against places inside me that make my thighs shake.
He moves and the first thrust draws a whine from the depths of my soul.
The second makes my back arch off the bed.
By the third I've stopped pretending this is punishment or revenge or anything other than exactly what it is, which is the best thing I've ever felt in my life, and I'm meeting him thrust for thrust with my hips rolling up to take him deeper while my nails rake lines down his back.
Easton fucks like he plays basketball, all power and precision and an instinct for exactly where to push.
His hand finds my hair and pulls my head back, his mouth on my throat, his teeth marking skin that everyone is going to see tomorrow, and I let him because I am so far past caring about tomorrow that the concept has lost all meaning.
His other hand grips my hip, angling me up, and the new position hits something inside me that makes me cry out loud enough that his hand clamps over my mouth.
"Walls are thin," he murmurs against my ear, and I bite his palm in response, tasting salt and skin. He laughs, the sound of Easton laughing while he's inside me breaking down the walls I tried so hard to build.
He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against mine with a force that shoves me up the mattress until his hand braces against the headboard to keep me in place.
I'm making sounds I've never heard from myself, broken and desperate and completely out of my control, and my Omega is singing beneath my skin, flooding my system with a warmth that makes everything sharper, every nerve ending amplified until the drag of his cock inside me is the only thing that exists.
"Kit." His voice has dropped into a lower register, coated with intimacy, and my body clenches around him so hard he groans. "Look at me."
I open my eyes to see his face above mine, flushed and wrecked, his glasses skewed on his face, his eyes dark and focused entirely on me. "God, you’re such a good boy, aren’t you?" he breathes.
Something rewires in my head as I glare at him, words I have no control over spilling out before I can stop them. “Say it again,” I plead. “Again, please.”
His rhythm falters and then picks back up, a wild smile spreading across his face as his voice deepens a little. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you, Kit?”
I open my mouth to say something else, only for a low whimper to morph into a full-bellied moan as I shatter.
The orgasm tears through me without warning, my whole body seizing around him, my back arching so hard only my shoulders touch the mattress.
The sound I make is the one I've been holding back all night, raw and wrecked and pulled from the same deep place where I keep every secret I've ever been ashamed of.
Easton fucks me through it, his rhythm stuttering as I clench around him, the base of his cock starting to swell.
The knot catches at my rim and my body opens for it before my brain has time to panic. He pushes in with a groan that rumbles through both of us, locking us together, his hips flush against mine, his cock buried so deep I can feel my own pulse around it.
He comes with his face pressed into my neck, the heat of his release flooding inside me triggering a second orgasm that I wasn't prepared for.
It rolls through me quieter than the first, a slow, devastating wave that leaves me boneless and trembling beneath him, my arms wrapped around his back, my face pressed against his shoulder, my body holding him inside me because biology has decided that this Alpha isn't going anywhere for the next thirty minutes and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
Easton slowly rolls us until his back is against the mattress, making it easier for me to relax while we’re still tied together. Drowsiness washes over me as I try to form words, making it very clear what just happened here even if I don’t believe it myself.
"This doesn't change anything," I tell the dark room, my voice coming out wobbly, pleasure still rushing through me. "When this is over I'm leaving and we go back to normal."