Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AVA
Mason's mouth was fire and honey and the end of everything I'd been fighting for.
The kiss started gentle, soft lips pressing against mine, coaxing rather than demanding.
Like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn't surrounded by three other Alphas who were watching their Prime take what belonged to all of them.
I should have bitten him. Should have fought.
Should have done anything other than what I did, which was melt into him like I'd been waiting my whole life for this moment.
Maybe I had been.
His hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head, tilting my face up to deepen the kiss.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, asking permission my body gave before my mind could object.
I opened for him, and he groaned, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through my chest and made my core clench with desperate need.
"That's it," he murmured against my mouth, his breath warm and sweet. "That's my good girl." The praise hit me like a drug, sending sparks of pleasure cascading down my spine. I whimpered, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as some distant part of me screamed to push him away.
"Mason," I gasped, his name coming out broken and desperate as I pulled back just enough to speak. "I can't—I don't—"
"You can," he assured me, his honey-gold eyes burning into mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip. His thumb stroked along my jaw, tender even as hunger darkened his gaze. "You're going to let me take care of you now, Red. Going to let me give you what you need."
"I don't want—" I started to protest, but my voice faltered as his hand trailed down my throat.
"Your body says differently," he countered, his voice dropping lower, rougher. His fingers traced along my collarbone, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Your scent says differently. You're dripping for me, sweetheart. I can smell how much you need this."
Shame flooded through me, hot and bitter.
He was right. God help me, he was right.
My thighs were slick with arousal, my inner walls clenching around nothing, every nerve ending screaming for contact.
The heat had won. My biology had won. And now I was going to lie here and let him help me through this because I didn't have the strength to do anything else.
Just sex, I told myself. Just getting through the heat. It doesn't have to mean anything.
"I hate you," I whispered, telling him again. I wanted to make sure he knew... but as I said that my hips arched up toward him, seeking friction, seeking relief.
"I know," he replied softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead with aching tenderness.
"I love you anyway." Then his mouth was on my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to my collarbone, and I stopped thinking at all.
Everything became sensation. Mason's lips on my skin, sucking and biting and licking.
His hands mapping my body like he was memorizing every curve, every dip, every sensitive spot that made me gasp and writhe beneath him.
He was still fully clothed, I was the only one naked, vulnerable, exposed, and somehow that made it worse.
Made me feel more owned. More conquered.
"So beautiful," he murmured against my breast, his breath hot on my skin, making my nipple pebble before he'd even touched it. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this? How many nights I lay awake thinking about you, imagining what you'd look like spread out beneath me?"
I couldn't answer. Could barely breathe.
His mouth closed around my nipple, sucking it between his lips, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak.
I cried out, my back arching off the bed, pleasure lancing through me like lightning.
He sucked harder, drawing more of my breast into the wet heat of his mouth, his teeth grazing the tender flesh just enough to make me gasp.
"Eleven years," he continued, releasing my nipple with an obscene pop before licking a hot stripe to my other breast. "Eleven years of wanting. Waiting. Watching you grow into the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, knowing you were mine, knowing I couldn't touch you yet."
"I was never yours," I gasped out, even as my hands tangled in his golden hair, holding him against my chest, silently begging him not to stop.
"You were always mine," he growled against my skin, his teeth closing around my other nipple, biting down just hard enough to make me yelp.
Then he soothed the sting with his tongue, leaving the abused flesh until I was squirming beneath him.
"From the moment I saw you. From the moment I smelled you. Mine."
His hand slid between my thighs, and I nearly screamed.
"Fuck," he groaned, his fingers sliding through the slick that coated my folds, spreading my wetness everywhere.
"So wet. So fucking wet. You're soaked, Red.
Absolutely dripping for me." His fingers explored me thoroughly, tracing every fold, every ridge, circling my entrance without pushing inside.
I was swollen, aching, my clit throbbing with need, and every brush of his fingers made my hips jerk.
"Please," I begged, the word escaping before I could stop it. I didn't even know what I was begging for anymore, for him to stop, for him to keep going, for the aching emptiness inside me to finally be filled. "Please, Mason—"
"Please what?" he asked, his thumb finding my clit, pressing down on the swollen bundle of nerves before circling with practiced precision. My vision went white, my whole body jerking beneath him. "Tell me what you need, Red."
"I need—I can't—" I was babbling, incoherent, my hips grinding against his hand, fucking myself on his fingers even though they weren't inside me yet. "Mason, please—"
"Say it," he commanded, his fingers stilling against my soaked flesh. I sobbed at the loss of sensation, my hips chasing his touch. "Tell me you want me."
"I can't," I whimpered, shaking my head even as my body screamed for more.
"You can," he insisted, leaning down until his lips brushed my ear. His fingers teased my entrance, just barely dipping inside before pulling back. "One word, sweetheart. That's all. Just one word, and I'll give you everything."
I shouldn't. I knew I shouldn't. Saying it meant admitting defeat, meant acknowledging that my body had won, meant surrendering the last shred of resistance I'd been clinging to.
The heat was burning through me, consuming me, and his fingers were right there, so close to where I needed them, and I was so empty, so desperate, so completely destroyed by wanting.
Just to get through the heat, I reasoned with myself. Just sex. Nothing more.
"Yes," I breathed, the word tearing out of me like a confession.
"Yes, Mason, please, yes—" He kissed me hard, swallowing my pleas, and then his fingers were inside me, two at once, thick and long, stretching me open, curling against that spot on my front wall that made me see stars.
I moaned into his mouth, my inner walls clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper.
"There you go," he praised, breaking the kiss to watch my face as he fucked me with his hand. His fingers pumped in and out, slow and deep, the wet sounds of my arousal obscene in the quiet room. "That's my good girl. Taking what you need. Finally letting yourself have it."
His thumb found my clit again, rubbing tight circles as his fingers curled inside me, and the pressure built impossibly fast. I was so sensitive, so desperate, so primed from days of unsatisfied need.
"You're so tight," he groaned, adding a third finger, stretching me wider.
The burn was exquisite, pleasure and pain blurring together.
"So wet and hot and tight. Can't wait to feel this pretty pussy wrapped around my cock.
" His words, filthy, possessive, pushed me over the edge.
I came with a scream, my whole body convulsing, my walls clamping down on his fingers so hard it must have hurt.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, more intense than anything I'd ever felt, and through it all he kept fucking me with his hand, kept rubbing my clit, kept wringing every last drop of pleasure from my shaking body.
It was the first real relief I'd felt in days, the first orgasm that actually satisfied instead of leaving me more desperate than before. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
"More," I begged, grabbing at his shirt, trying to pull it off with shaking hands.
"Alpha, I need more, I need—" The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Alpha. Not Mason. Alpha. Like my hindbrain had taken over, like the heat was finally winning, like I was becoming something primal and needy that only knew one thing: I needed my Alpha.
Mason's eyes flared with dark satisfaction at the word.
"That's right," he growled, ripping his shirt over his head. "I'm your Alpha. Say it again."
"Alpha," I whimpered, the word feeling right on my tongue even as some distant part of me recoiled. "Please, Alpha, I need—"