Chapter 11 #2
The cool brick wall digs into my back again. But all I feel is Ford. The heat of him. The pulse of him. The frantic rhythm of our bodies moving in sync. Every second races by, but I don’t care.
All I care about is how he makes me feel. How every breath, every touch, every whisper of his lips on mine is a brand I never want to wash away.
“Lo,” Ford groans, his voice thick with a rawness I’ve never heard before.
His mouth is on my neck now. His hips, bucking against my own. His teeth, grazing over my skin, sucking and biting, like he’s starving for me. The sensation sends a tremor through my body, and I can feel the heat pooling low in my stomach as slick leaks from my panties.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he whispers.
Reverently.
Like I’m something to be worshipped.
I gasp as his lips move lower, nipping at the curve of my shoulder, his hands working at the hem of my shirt with a kind of desperate impatience. He can’t get it up fast enough.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmurs, hands finally tearing the fabric down the middle as if it’s an obstacle he can’t stand.
I don’t even care that I can’t replace it. Don’t care that I don’t have many nice shirts. My heart is a war drum, thundering in my chest, every beat syncing with the pulse of blood rushing between my legs. It’s maddening. I don’t know what I want.
No, scratch that, I know exactly what I want.
It’s him. All of him.
Right here, right now.
Even if it ruins us both.
I tug at his shirt, forcing it over his head.
He’s slinked us into the alleyway beside the bar so that the darkness can cloak us like two teenagers doing something forbidden.
My hands slide over his broad chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the steady rhythm of his breath.
His scent is all around me now, filling my lungs and making my pulse race.
I want to taste every inch of him. I want him to burn me with his touch, with everything he’s got.
His mouth is on mine again, desperate and hungry. His tongue slides against mine, slow at first, like he’s savoring it. Then it’s hard and urgent, like he’s drowning and I’m the only thing that can save him.
That can keep him buoyant.
His hands move over me again, touching, exploring, his fingers tracing the edge of my bra, tugging at the straps until they snap, pulling it away without hesitation.
And then, I’m bare in front of him. Vulnerable and exposed in the darkness of the alleyway next to the bar.
But I don’t feel the fear I thought I would.
His gaze drops to my breasts, and I feel alive.
He licks his lips, and a growl rumbles up the back of his throat.
Every inch of me is on fire as his hands glide over my skin, leaving trails of heat and goosebumps wherever he touches.
“Fuck, Lo,” Ford breathes, thick with need as his eyes rake over my exposed form. “You are something else.”
I arch into him, needing to feel him against me, to feel anything but this endless, burning emptiness between my legs. I drag my nails down his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath my fingers and the hair rushing beneath my nails. The smooth, valiant heat of his skin.
Before I can think, his hands are on me again, strong and possessive, dragging me closer. His cock presses against me through the fabric of his jeans. I can’t stop the sharp gasp that escapes me, the way my body reacts to the feel of him as he grinds that monster up against my clothed pussy.
His breath catches, and I see the raw desire flash in his eyes.
“Anyone could see us if they turn the corner,” I whisper, trembling as I reach between us and tug at his belt, desperate to feel him fully. “But I don’t care. I want you. Now.”
He growls, a sound that rattles my very bones, and in one swift motion, he has me undone, his hands tugging at my jeans, pulling them down my legs, leaving me exposed and bare for him.
My scent floods the air with the smell of peaches, and it makes Ford’s eyes darken.
I’m already on fire, but this… this is something else entirely.
This is a fate I can no longer ignore.
As much as I wish I could.
Ford’s hands slide up my body, gripping my hips before he lifts me back up again, my back pressing further into the icy brick of the wall as his lips find my pulse point. His teeth scrape lightly over the sensitive skin, sending jolts of sensation down my spine.
Do it, the Omega inside of me whines.
“Lo,” he groans, laced with tension. “I swear to God, I can’t cope with you.”
Before I can respond, he shifts, pulling me down onto him. The force of it has me gasping, every nerve in my body screaming for more. My clothes, discarded. His lips, wrapped around one of my aching nipples. His sizzling heat, chasing away every ounce of cold that I should feel, but don’t.
There’s no slow, teasing buildup. It’s raw. It’s reckless. I’m empty, and then I’m full. He fills me completely in one fluid motion, stretching me to a max I didn’t realize I had, and my entire world tilts.
“Oh, Ford,” I whimper out.
“Goddamn it, Lo. I’ve waited forever for this,” he growls.
I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I adjust to the feel of him, the stretch, the burn, the heat. Every inch of him moves in me, and it’s like fire flooding through my veins.
He doesn’t give me time to breathe before he pulls me away from the harsh brick and starts moving. His hands on my hips guide me with rough precision, pulling me down onto him harder, faster.
“God,” he breathes, strained, like it’s taking everything he has to hold back. “You’re fucking killing me.”
I meet his gaze, and I can’t help the wicked smile that pulls at my lips.
“Then do something about it,” I whisper, barely a breath, but it’s a command, an invitation.
Ford doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls back until just the tip catches at my entrance, and then he slams into me, hard and relentless, making the world spin around me.
Every thrust is punishing, but it’s everything I’ve wanted.
Everything I’ve needed. His hands are everywhere, on my back, my ass, gripping me with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.
The urge to bite him, to mark him, crawls through me.
I want to sink my teeth into his skin and claim him as mine, just as he’s claiming me.
All I can focus on is the way he moves, the way his body fits against mine, how every inch of him makes me feel alive in a way I never have before.
His pace picks up, frantic, and I meet him with every thrust, my hips grinding against his, pushing myself closer, deeper, faster.
The slick between my thighs makes every movement sharper, every push harder.
I feel it, the uncontrollable need, the way my body responds to his, wanting more, needing more.
I don’t care how messy this gets; I don’t care about anything but this moment.
“Lo,” he grunts. “You feel so fucking good. So tight. I’m not gonna last.”
“Then don’t,” I whisper back, pulling him into another kiss, my body shuddering under the onslaught of pleasure, and of him, and of everything that’s been building between us.
And then it’s there, the snap, the explosion. Everything in me ignites at once. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only feel.
My head falls back against the brick wall before his lips cover mine. The Omega whine that rushes up my throat is unstoppable, and it earns me another growl. My Ford. My Alpha. Pleased with me.
His grip on me tightens as he comes, his entire body tensing, his growl vibrating against my skin as he spills inside me.
Thread after thread, filling me to the brink that brings pressure with the pleasure I can’t escape.
I feel the swell of his knot pressing against me, a primal reminder of what we’ve crossed into.
The sensation of it makes everything inside me tighten in response, my body aligning with his in a perfect, unstoppable rhythm.
I follow right after him, my body trembling, shaking uncontrollably as the orgasm rips through me, leaving me breathless, boneless, lost in the fire that’s still burning between us. Drenching him in my slick as it spills from my body, soaking him the way he’s soaked my insides.
He turns us before we both collapse against the wall, chest to chest, gasping desperately, our bodies slick with sweat, but neither of us makes a move to pull away. I’m splayed against him, his knot trapping me to his body, and I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck.
The heat of our skin, the feel of his knot ballooned inside me, keeps me grounded. His scent is all around me, sharp, wild, and possessive, filling my senses. I can feel the satisfied purr that rumbles deep in his chest, a vibration that sets every nerve on fire.
My fingers dig into his skin, pulling him closer, and I feel the urge to mark him, to claim him as my own. A primal, needy sound slips from me, something between a whine and a whimper.
I press my lips to the spot where his scent is strongest, my teeth grazing his neck, leaving behind a hickey I can’t deny. The proof of a longing deep within the pit of my gut that comes from instinct, and instinct alone.
And in the aftermath of all that, it feels like the world has finally stopped spinning.
After everything, the silence is a slap in the face. My body’s still trembling, but it’s not from the heat anymore. It’s from the damn cold that’s starting to creep in now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, leaving me raw and exposed.
In a flash, he pops out, leaving me dripping with the evidence of our debauchery and an empty ache that I don’t want to admit.
I’m back down on my feet, and then I’m fumbling with my clothes, fighting to get back into some semblance of normalcy. Every move feels like a reminder of what just went down. A reminder of how easily I lost myself in this whole mess.
Yeah, great talk.
The sting of the cold air against my skin is a welcome distraction, even though it doesn’t do much to cool the fire that’s still burning.
That fire, though? It’s fading fast, leaving me with something much more uncomfortable.
Shame.
It settles on me, a heavy coat I can’t take off, and I hate it. I hate that I let him do that to me, that I let myself fall into my instincts like that. And in public, of all places. Some stupid back alley, like a sleazy little—
I can’t even look at him right now. It’s easier to just focus on getting the hell out of here, away from the mess we just made, away from the one thing I don’t know how to fix.
My chest feels tight, my heart heavy. The twisted feeling inside me hasn’t loosened, hasn’t even begun to shift, and it gnaws at me, a painful reminder that I don’t belong anywhere but with him. But right now, I can’t take it.
The scent of him still lingers on my skin, an undeniable mark of what just happened, and it makes me want to crawl out of it.
I’m empty and aching in a way I can’t even begin to explain, and every instinct is screaming for him, but it’s over.
“I’m leaving,” I mutter, yanking up my pants as if my life depends on it. Which it kind of does, honestly.
I’d be blacklisted from ever coming back to Honeysuckle Grove if someone walked around the corner and found us like this.
Ford doesn’t say anything, and I’m not sure what hurts worse: his silence or my trepidation. But honestly, I don’t think I want him to say anything. Maybe now that I’ve worked him out of my system, I can go back to my original plan of simply passing through.
The quiet’s better than whatever the hell he’d say to try and make sense of this disaster, anyway. And God knows I’ve never been good with words.
But I can feel him there, standing tall, stuffing himself back into his pants. I can almost hear the frustrated growl in his chest that he refuses to let loose. I can see his restraint in the way his jaw clenches, like he’s weighing what he should do in this moment.
Then, finally, his voice cuts through the silence, low and firm, like it always is when he’s trying to keep control.
“Lo.”
I don’t answer, though.
God, I don’t want to be in this town anymore.
I don’t want to be anywhere near it.
What am I even doing here?