38. Sterling
STERLING
I t’s his growl of surrender—the low, rough sound vibrating through his chest—and the feel of his thick fingers caressing my thigh that has me perfuming instantly. Slick floods between my legs, soaking my underwear, and I can’t even think straight anymore.
When his hand runs up to my hip and then dips, skimming down to where I’m already hot and aching for him, he cups my heat through the thin, damp fabric of my underwear like he owns it. Like he owns me. And in that second, every coherent thought I might’ve had evaporates into the night air.
“You’re already dripping for your Alpha, aren’t you?”
I forget about the cold biting at my bare skin, about the Beta at the bar.
I forget everything except JP.
He leans forward, his chest pressing me back, pinning me harder against the rough bark of the tree. And when our mouths meet—when his lips crash against mine—something shatters inside me.
Everything else falls away.
All I can feel is him. His mouth. His hands. His heat. His scent curling around me, sinking into my skin, my bones, until there’s no space between us that isn’t filled with want.
I’m not thinking anymore.
I’m just feeling.
It’s not sweet. It’s not soft. It’s hungry and furious and weeks in the making. His teeth scrape my bottom lip and I gasp, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, dragging him closer until there’s nothing between us but heat and breath and the raw edge of need.
“Fuck,” JP growls, deep in his chest. His hands are everywhere—gripping my waist, dragging down my back, clutching at my ass like he’s starving. When I bite his lip in return, he curses and spins me around.
The bark of the oak tree digs into my palms as I brace against the trunk and push back into him. The air is cold, damp from recent rain, but I barely notice. Not when he presses in behind me, hard and massive, his body searing against mine.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasps, voice dark and dangerous as he presses his face to the side of my neck, scenting deep. “The way you smell, the way you taste…it’s fucking torture.”
I moan into my shoulder, desperate, needing more. I can’t get close enough in this position. I try to twist, to wrap my arms around him, to drag him closer—but he stops me, capturing my wrists and pinning them gently but firmly against the tree.
The feeling of being controlled—claimed—has my Omega whimpering, a needy, broken sound that escapes into the night air before I can stop it.
And JP answers with a deep, feral growl that rumbles through his chest and into mine, making my whole body tighten with anticipation, with raw, helpless need.
I shiver as his tongue licks along my neck where my scent is the strongest, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs.
He hikes up my skirt, exposing my ass. His rough palms trail up the backs of my legs as he groans into my skin.
He palms one cheek in his massive hand and lightly slaps it.
I never thought a little roughness would be so hot.
“Tell me to stop,” he pants. “Say the word, Omega, and I’ll back the fuck off.”
I look over my shoulder, meeting his eyes.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
That’s all it takes.
He yanks my underwear down, so fast the elastic bites into my thighs. When they don’t move fast enough, he growls—low, animal—and tears them the rest of the way, the fabric ripping in his fists like it offended him by even existing between us.
“Fuckin’ knew I’d ruin these,” he rasps behind me, tossing the scraps to the dirt. “Knew the second I got you like this, I wouldn’t be able to go slow.”
My body is already aching, drenched, clenching around nothing. I brace myself against the tree, heart pounding in my throat as I feel him step closer—so much heat and power behind me I can’t breathe.
I arch my ass into the air, shameless and shaking, my body humming. Every nerve ending is on fire, my slick dripping down my thighs as I grind back, desperate for him to touch me where I need it most.
“JP,” I whimper, voice raw and wrecked. “Please?—”
“Fuck,” he growls behind me, the sound thick with hunger. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
I hear the rough slide of his belt coming undone and the low, hungry grunt he makes as he pulls his cock free.
A flash of disappointment hits me—frustrated that I can’t see him from this angle—but it only lasts a millisecond.
Any thought I had vanishes when I feel his cock slide through my slick folds.
His cock is thick. Hot. Already leaking.
He pumps himself through my slit a few times, coating his length in my wetness, slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second.
He presses the swollen head against my soaked folds, dragging it through my slick in a slow, torturous glide.
The contrast of that heavy, velvet heat against my pulsing clit nearly knocks the air out of my lungs.
JP lets out a breath like he’s been punched. “You’re soaked for me. Fuck, you were made for this.”
He drags the head of his cock through my folds again, teasing, slow, and deliberate. He doesn’t thrust—he just teases me with it, lets me feel every thick inch without giving me any of it.
I nearly collapse, bracing my forearms harder against the bark as my legs wobble beneath me.
“God,” I gasp, thighs trembling. “Don’t tease me. I can’t take it.”
“You’ll take what I fucking give you, when I give it you,” JP says, voice like smoke and thunder. “And you’ll love every second of it.”
He slides himself up and down through my folds again, the head catching on my clit, my entrance, the mess between my thighs. Each pass draws a needy whimper from my lips, my body clenching for him, aching so badly I could cry.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, one hand tightening around my hip, the other pressing between my shoulder blades until I fold a little lower, and his hips guide his cock against my swollen pussy. “This is mine. All of this—fuckin’ made for me.”
My breath catches as he nudges the head of his cock right at my entrance, not pushing in yet, just circling, teasing. My entire body is suspended in this moment—coiled so tight I think I might snap.
“Look at you,” he grits out. “So desperate. So fuckin’ ready. Bet you’ve been thinking about this since your heat, when you watched me jerk off while Quinn fucked you? Were you wishing it was me?”
“I was,” I gasp. “I need it. Please, JP?—”
“Please, what?” His voice turns dark, lethal. “Say it. Say what you want, Omega.”
“I want your cock,” I whimper, losing all pride. “I want you to fuck me, fill me, knot me—anything. Just please.”
He groans, the sound feral. “You beg so fuckin’ pretty.”
Then he grips my hips—tight, commanding—and pushes forward.
Thick. Relentless. I can tell he’s big. But stops when he's only partially inside, just the tip.
“You want it, baby?” he rasps, voice a low snarl. “Then tell me how bad. Tell me who you belong to.”
Need crashes through me—hard and fast. A keening sound tears out of me as I beg, “I belong to you. Just—fuck me. Claim me.”
And that’s all it takes.
He growls like a man possessed, grabs my hips in a bruising grip—and thrusts inside.
He stretches me in one brutal thrust and holds himself there seated to the hilt until I’m gasping, crying out against the tree bark, forehead pressed to the rough trunk, nails curling into the wood. The stretch is intense and I was wrong. He’s not big—he’s huge .
It hurts, but it’s perfect. A delicious, brutal ache that splits me wide and sends fire sparking through every nerve.
“You take me so good,” JP growls, thrusting deeper, his knot teasing my entrance. “You were made for me, this tight fuckin’ pussy wrapped around me like it never wants to let go. God, I should’ve done this the second I saw you. Bent you over and fucked this sweet pussy.”
He pistons his hips, setting a punishing rhythm, and I swear I see stars.
“Mine,” he bites out again, and again his voice going ragged. “You fuckin’ feel that, warpath? Mine!” He uses the nickname Daisy had called me and I like it. It makes me feel powerful and vengeful. He plunges in again and again.
He bottoms out and stills, groaning low into my shoulder like he’s barely holding on. “You’re so fucking tight, I don’t want to come yet,” he growls. “So wet. Sweet fuck, you were made for me.”
“Move,” I plead. “Please.”
And then he does. Hard, deep thrusts that make my breasts bounce with every pump of hips, my hands clutching bark, my moans echoing into the night. And all I can do is sink my chest and lift my hips, giving him deeper access.
“More,” I cry. “Harder—please?—”
JP growls again, the sound deeper now—rougher. Like it’s scraping up from somewhere buried and feral. The last shred of his control snaps, and it’s not just sex anymore—it’s instinct. It’s something raw and consuming.
His grip on my hip tightens until I swear I’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers, and the other hand slides between my thighs like he owns me—because in this moment, he does.
His fingers find my clit with terrifying precision, rubbing tight, relentless circles that match the rhythm of his thrusts, each drag of his cock stretching me wider, hitting deeper, making it impossible to think.
“Fuck, JP—” I choke out, but it’s already too late.
The orgasm crashes over me, my body seizes, my vision goes white at the edges, and I scream as I come around him, clenching down hard like I never want to let him go. My slick floods down my thighs, coating him, soaking us both.
But JP doesn’t stop.
He groans like I just killed him and brought him back to life all at once, his body shuddering violently as he fucks me through the aftershocks.
“God,” he rasps, his voice barely human, breath hot and broken against my shoulder. “This pussy…you’re fucking made for me.”
His thrusts grow erratic, deeper, harder, more punishing—like he’s trying to crawl inside me. His teeth drag against the curve of my neck, just shy of the place a claiming bite would go.