Chapter 38 #3
"So impatient," he murmured, a hint of that commanding Alpha bleeding through, his thumbs tracing higher, closer to where I needed him. "I'm going to take my time."
Then he dropped to his knees. The first touch of his tongue made me scream.
He licked a long, slow stripe from my entrance to my clit, groaning against me like I was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
The vibration sent shockwaves through my body, and I fell back against the piano, more keys crashing beneath me, my hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface.
"Oh god, Mason— I can't—" I sobbed, my thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his hands held them open, spread wide for his mouth.
"You can." He sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking mercilessly against the swollen bundle of nerves, and slid two thick fingers inside me.
The stretch was exquisite, his fingers curling to find that spot that made my vision blur.
"You're going to come on my tongue, and then you're going to come on my cock, and you're going to scream my name both times. "
He set a relentless rhythm, his fingers pumping in and out while his tongue worked my clit in tight circles.
Lewd wet sounds filled the room, mixing with my desperate moans and the occasional crash of piano keys as I writhed beneath him.
I could feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter at the base of my spine.
"That's it," he growled against me, adding a third finger, stretching me wider, preparing me for what was to come. "I can feel you getting close. So tight around my fingers. So fucking wet. Come for me, Omega. Let me taste you."
The commanding tone in his voice sent me hurtling toward the edge.
He curled his fingers inside me, finding that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes, and I shattered with a cry, my thighs clamping around his head, my whole body shaking with the force of my release.
He worked me through it, his tongue gentling but never stopping, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until I was boneless and trembling.
When I finally came back to myself, he was standing again, unbuckling his belt with shaking hands, his lips and chin glistening with my arousal.
"I need you," he said, shoving his pants down, freeing his cock. He was big and the sight of him made my inner walls clench with anticipation. "I need to be inside you. Need to feel you around me. Need to knot you until you can't remember your own name."
"Yes," I breathed, reaching for him, my fingers wrapping around his length, feeling him pulse hot and heavy in my palm. "Please, Mason. I need you too."
He groaned at my touch, his hips jerking involuntarily, fucking into my fist. "If you keep doing that, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast," he gritted out, pulling my hand away and pinning it to the smooth ebony surface beside my hip.
He pulled me to the edge of the piano, positioning himself at my entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against my slick folds.
For a moment he just held there, teasing, the head of his cock pressing against my opening without pushing in, his forehead dropping to mine.
"Mine," he growled, his dark eyes boring into mine, and then he thrust inside me in one long, deep stroke.
I cried out at the stretch of him, my body struggling to accommodate his size even as slick gushed around him, easing the way.
He was so deep I could feel him in my throat, filling me so completely there was no room for anything else, no room for fear, for doubt, for the walls I'd spent years building.
He gave me a moment to adjust, his jaw clenched tight with the effort of holding still, tremors running through his powerful frame, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Move," I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist, digging my heels into his ass to pull him deeper.
"Mason, please move." He didn't need to be told twice.
He pulled back until just the tip remained inside me, then slammed home again, setting a brutal pace that had the piano rocking beneath us, discordant notes filling the room with every thrust. The music of our coupling — skin slapping against skin, my desperate moans, his low grunts, the crash of piano keys, was raw and primal and perfect.
His hands gripped my hips hard, angling me to take him deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made me see stars with every stroke. I could do nothing but hold on and feel my nails raking down his back, leaving red welts in their wake.
"So tight," he groaned, his rhythm faltering as my walls clenched around him. "So wet. Made for me. You were made for me, Ava. Made to take me, to take my knot, to carry my pups."
"Yes," I sobbed, the pressure building again, impossibly fast, the filthy words pushing me higher. "Yes, Mason, I'm yours, I'm—"
"Come for me." He reached between us, his thumb finding my clit, rubbing in tight, punishing circles.
"Come on my cock, Omega. Let me feel you.
" The command in his voice combined with his touch pushed me over the edge.
I screamed his name as I came, my walls clamping down on him in rhythmic pulses, my vision going white, my entire body convulsing with the force of my release.
I felt his knot start to swell at the base of his cock, stretching me impossibly wider with each thrust, catching on my rim until finally it locked inside me, tying us together.
The pressure of it against my inner walls triggered another wave of pleasure, rolling through me in endless ripples.
And then his mouth was on my neck, on the mark that was already there — the claiming bite from before, and he bit down hard, breaking the skin, renewing the bond.
The pain and pleasure exploded through me simultaneously, white-hot and overwhelming, triggering another orgasm that rolled into the first until I couldn't tell where one ended and the next began.
I felt him come inside me, felt the hot pulse of his release filling me up, painting my walls with his seed, and something deep in my chest clicked into place like a key turning in a lock.
The bond. Not new, but renewed. Strengthened. I could feel him now, his relief, his love, his desperate hope, tangled up with my own chaotic emotions until I couldn't tell which feelings were his and which were mine. It was overwhelming, terrifying, and somehow exactly right.
He collapsed against me, careful to brace his weight on his arms so he wouldn't crush me, his face buried in my neck where he'd bitten me.
I could feel him licking at the wound, soothing the sting, his tongue gentle where his teeth had been savage.
His knot pulsed inside me, still releasing, and each pulse sent another aftershock of pleasure through my oversensitive body.
"I love you," he murmured against my skin, the words vibrating through me, echoing through the bond until I could feel the truth of them in my bones.
"I love you. I love you." I held him, my hands stroking through his sweat-damp hair, feeling the echo of his emotions through the bond.
And I wanted to say it back. The words were right there, pressing against my lips, demanding to be spoken.
I couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever. So I just held him instead, and hoped it was enough.
Eventually, his knot softened enough for him to pull out. We were both a mess — sweat and slick and other fluids I didn't want to think too hard about, but he just gathered me in his arms and carried me to a small sofa against the wall that I hadn't noticed before.
He settled us there, my back against his chest, a throw blanket pulled over our tangled limbs. His hand rested on my stomach, possessive and warm, fingers splayed wide like he was already imagining what might grow there, and I could feel the steady thump of his heart against my spine.
"Stay," he murmured against my hair, his voice rough and sated, his lips brushing my temple with each word, his arms tightening around me like he could hold me there by will alone.
"Not because you have to. Not because you can't survive without us.
Stay because you want to. Because this — us — is worth staying for. "
I thought about my life before. The running, the hiding, the slowly poisoning myself rather than face what I was. The loneliness that had eaten at me even when I refused to acknowledge it.
And I thought about now. About four broken Alphas who loved me in their own complicated, messy, overwhelming ways.
About a cabin in the mountains that was starting to feel less like a prison and more like home.
About the bond thrumming between us, warm and steady, filling spaces I hadn't known were empty.
I want to stay.
The thought hit me like a punch to the chest, and I felt myself recoil from it even as it settled into my bones.
I wanted to stay. I wanted to try. I wanted to stop running and let myself fall into whatever this was.
The words wouldn't come. They lodged in my throat like broken glass, too dangerous to speak aloud.
Because saying it would make it real. Saying it would mean admitting that everything I'd fought for, everything I'd sacrificed, three years of running, of hiding, of slowly killing myself to stay free, had been for nothing.
Or maybe it had been for this, a traitorous voice whispered. Maybe you had to run so you could choose to come back.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the war inside me raging.
Part of me wanted to say the words, to give him what he was asking for.
But another part, the part that had kept me alive for three years — screamed that this was a trap.
That the moment I admitted I wanted to stay, I'd lose whatever leverage I had left.
Through the bond, I felt Mason tense behind me. He could feel my turmoil, I realized. Could feel the war raging inside me.
"I'm not ready," I whispered, hating the way his arms tightened around me, hating the flicker of pain I felt through the bond before he could shield it, my voice small and broken in the quiet room.
"I'm not ready to say that yet. But I'm..." I swallowed hard, forcing the next words out, my fingers curling against his chest. "I'm not running.
Not right now. That's all I can give you. "
He was quiet for a long moment, his breath warm against my hair, his heartbeat steady against my spine. Then he pressed a kiss to my hair, his arms gentle around me, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my stomach.
"That's enough," he said roughly, and I felt the truth of it through the bond — his acceptance, his understanding, his willingness to wait, all of it washing over me like a warm tide.
"That's more than enough." Even as I let him hold me, even as I leaned into his warmth and breathed in his scent, the words echoed in my head like a confession I wasn't brave enough to make.
I want to stay. I want to stay. I want to stay.
I didn't know if that made me weak or strong.
Didn't know if I was finally healing or just finding a new way to destroy myself.
All I knew was that lying there in his arms, the bond humming between us like a second heartbeat, something inside me was shifting.
Changing. Becoming something I didn't recognize.
Not their possession. Not their prisoner. Not quite their Omega. Not yet.
But maybe — terrifyingly, impossibly — something close.