Chapter 37 #2
By the time we separate, we’re both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, the world narrowed down to shared breaths and the thud of my heart against her chest.
“Come home with me,” I say carefully.
Her eyes search mine. Whatever she sees there must match something inside her, because she nods once.
“Okay.”
I drive faster than I should, knuckles tight on the wheel, every nerve buzzing. Her hand rests on the seat between us, close enough that our pinkies brush now and then, each touch a little spark.
My mind is a loop: don’t rush her, don’t scare her, don’t fuck this up.
When we walk into the house, it’s blessedly quiet. Milton must be in his room; Korbin’s truck is gone. Good. I love them, and I want them in this with me, but…
But right now, I need her alone.
I kick my boots off by the door. She toes off her shoes, watching me with a mix of nerves and trust that humbles the hell out of me.
“Come on,” I say softly, nodding toward the hall. I don’t take her to the couch. I take her to my room.
My pulse is so loud in my ears that if Milton is home, he can probably hear it. My scent is heavier now, sandalwood gone deeper, richer with want, but I keep it controlled, not letting it tip into full alpha-demand.
Once we’re inside, I close the door gently and turn to face her.
“If you want to stop,” I pause, making sure her eyes are on my mouth, “at any point, for any reason, you tell me. Or push me. Or sign. Anything. I stop. No questions. Okay?”
Her throat works as she swallows. Then she nods, eyes bright.
“Okay,” she says softly.
We step toward each other at the same time.
The first kiss is searching, almost shy.
The second is not. She opens to me like she’s been waiting for this, fingers threading into my hair, pulling me closer.
My hands skim the lines of her waist, her back, memorizing every curve over the fabric of her sweater.
Heat curls off her, scent deepening as she presses herself against me, trusting, eager, making my self-control strain.
I slide my palms under the hem of her sweater, giving her time to protest. She doesn’t. She sighs into my mouth, leans into my touch, making a tiny sound that lights every fuse in my body.
“Bayleigh,” I rasp, pulling back just enough that she can see my lips. “You sure?”
She nods, cheeks flushed, eyes clear.
“I want… you,” she murmurs, each word deliberate, like she’s choosing it three times before she lets it out. Her hands move too, signing want and you right into my chest.
That unravels me.
I help her out of her sweater, let her tug my shirt over my head.
There’s skin, heat, the drag of her fingertips over my shoulders, the quiet awe in her gaze when she takes me in.
I kiss every inch of her I can reach, worshipping her touch, letting my mouth write every promise I can’t find words for.
I don’t rush.
I refuse to.
When our clothes finally hit the floor, it’s not frantic. It’s easy. Intentional. Her first time is going to be something she remembers as hers, not as something done to her.
I touch her like she’s breakable and unbreakable all at once—with gentle hands, paying close attention to every shiver and gasp. I murmur against her skin, making sure to enunciate clearly so she can catch the meaning even if not the words.
“So beautiful. So good. Tell me if anything hurts. Tell me what feels right.”
I lay her back on the bed and climb between her legs so I’m hovering above her. My face lowers to her breast, and I take a stiff peak into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it, and she hums. She likes that, but not enough. I want more noises to come from those sweet lips.
Slowly, I kiss from one nipple to the other and then back to the middle, down her sternum to her navel, and then to her mound. She sucks in a breath as her thighs fall apart, and I growl at the sight of her slick pussy waiting for me to taste her.
I look up at her; she smiles back at me, and I take that as my cue. Bringing my right hand up, I run my index finger down through her folds. She jolts but doesn’t stop me. I drag that hand to the inside of her left thigh and leave it there, leaning down and ghosting a breath across her clit.
She smells even better up close like this, her pussy dripping with slick just begging for me to lap it up.
With a deliberate movement, I flatten my tongue and lick her once from hole to clit, letting her green tea and mint taste linger on my tongue.
I repeat that motion three or four times before I place my tongue on her clit and flick up and down a little faster.
Bayleigh moans, and her breaths come in short, quick pants. I focus the tip of my tongue at the top of her clit and eat her like an alpha starved. When her moans get louder, I place an open-mouth kiss on her bundle of nerves and suck.
She screams as her slick coats my face and her pussy spasms against my mouth. So sensitive and delicious. I climb back over her and watch her face as she comes down from the high I just gave her. She stares up at me with a satisfied grin on her face.
“Good?” I ask.
“Yes.” Her cheeks pinken. “But I didn’t take very long.” She looks away from me like she’s embarrassed, but I won't have that. Grabbing her chin, I turn her face back to look at me.
“We can practice as much as you want. I don’t care just as long as I get to be there. You, my sweet omega, are fucking delicious.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“More?” I ask.
She smiles a soft but wicked little smile and nods her head. I push up so I’m on my knees and not hovering above her, and stroke my cock, jerking a little when I touch my knot. It’s swollen and sensitive being so close to the one thing it wants more than anything else.
Shit! Why am I not prepared for this? Dammit.
Bayleigh watches me with open curiosity, her gaze tracking every movement until she shifts forward, moving onto her hands and knees at the edge of the mattress, right in front of me.
“What are you doing, pretty girl?”
“I want to try…” She looks at my dick, and I feel like I might come on the spot.
“Go on, Omega. Put those pretty lips on my dick.”
She looks up at me and smiles before licking her lips. Reaching out, she wraps her soft, delicate hand around the base of my cock, her pinky resting against my knot. She leans forward and open-mouth kisses the tip of my dick, and I suck in a sharp breath.
She can’t hear me to know how she affects me, so I’m going to have to modify the way I fuck.
I put my hand on her shoulder and leave it there.
When she wraps those pouty lips around my mushroom head a second time, I apply more pressure to her shoulder.
She pauses and looks up at me, and I bite my bottom lip and nod at her so she knows she’s making me feel good.
Bayleigh takes more of me into her mouth and starts to bob up and down.
Her tongue trails along my shaft as she moves her head.
At this point, I’m sure she’s going to have my fingerprints bruised into her skin.
I move my hips slightly just to help show her I’m enjoying her mouth on my cock.
My knot is painfully hard, and I’m sure Bayleigh can see it getting redder by the second.
I’m ready to explode, but I don’t want to come in her mouth, as good as it might sound.
“Bayleigh,” Her name slips from my lips with an alpha moan, but she can’t see my face. A part of me wonders if even with the implant on the fritz if she can feel the rumble of a vibration that it makes. A question for another time.
Her head bobs faster, and she brings her hand into the mix, pumping along with her mouth so that there isn’t an inch of my dick not being touched.
“Bayleigh,” I say again and tap her shoulder.
She pulls off my dick with a pop and looks up at me as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Bad?” She tilts her head as she speaks.
I quickly shake my head. “No. Not at all. So fucking good, Baby. But I don’t want to come in your mouth. I want to come in that sweet little pussy of yours.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. You did good, Bayleigh, real good. Now lie back down and let me fuck you.”
She does as she’s told, lying back and spreading her thighs for me like a good little omega. Fuck, the way she watches me… I want to remember that look forever. The pink of her cheeks, the swell of her lips, the glaze in her eyes.
She’s so fucking sexy, sweet, and mine. I position myself at her entrance and slide just the head in, and she gasps. One hand lifts just enough to brush along the back of the other, signing with a small, lazy sweep.
“I’ll go slow, Baby. Just relax. I got you.”
I push in a little more and let her adjust before repeating until my knot presses against her opening. The urge to push deeper, to stay there, to lock us together sparks hard and hot in my core.
I breathe through it.
Not yet. Not her first time. Not when she’s never taken an alpha, never ridden out a heat with someone there to hold her through the worst of it.
When I finally pull out and ease back into her, it’s with every ounce of patience I have.
She tenses, just for a second, and I freeze, cupping her face, kissing her forehead, letting her adjust around me.
“You okay?” I whisper.
She nods, eyes squeezed shut, then opens them, meeting my gaze.
“Hurts… little,” she admits, “but good.”
We move together, finding a rhythm that’s more about connection than release. Her nails dig crescents into my back. Her legs curl around me, drawing me closer. Her scent is everywhere now, sweet and sharp, omega-need wrapping around my senses until there’s nothing but her.
My knot throbs, wanting, urging, but I keep my thrusts careful, never deep enough to push that last boundary.
I hold myself there, on the edge of something primal, and instead chase the way she shivers, the way her breath catches, the way her voice breaks when she tries to say my name again and again.