42. KATIE
Chapter forty-two
KATIE
A drenaline pumps through my veins like a triple espresso on an empty stomach. I run as fast as I can into the room beyond, slowing as I realize it’s a long maze lined with shelves.
The artifacts .
I am sure there are some Earth treasures here, but they are much less interesting in this moment than the buzz of desire and panic that floods my senses. Loren lets out a truly animalistic roar behind me, and I know he’s running after me.
There's a tinge of fear, but it’s more the fear of excitement, like from a roller coaster that you know you’re strapped safely into. Fear from the coming drop, but not from any actual harm.
Loren will never hurt me. The knowledge of that pushes me onward, as I twist around shelves, running toward the dark recesses of the room, the fear a thrill of delight. I dart around a corner, breathing deeply and ignoring the sharp stab of pain in my knee. Of course it's going to be grumpy now.
Loren stalks through the shelves, not running, but prowling .
“I’m going to find you, Katie,” he says as sweetly as if he was whispering a sonnet in my ear. “And when I do, I am going to show you how primal Alphas treat Omegas they chase.”
A shiver of desire runs the length of my body.
Fuck . If I knew being intentionally chased would be this hot, I’d have tried it back on Earth.
But then, I don’t know that I trusted any of my boyfriends the way I trust Loren. Which is ridiculous because I’ve known him what, a week?
But I know he won’t hurt me.
He pauses two shelf lengths away from where I’m hiding.
“Your perfume is going to give you away, Love. Try not to lust after me too hard.”
I want to snap a sarcastic comeback at him. But I keep my lips shut, slowly tip-toeing around the back end of one of the displays.
Loren isn’t at the shelf, and I look over to the far wall, trying to pinpoint his location. The rumble of his growl is closer– too close.
I dart forward, swerving as I hear him growl to my right. I throw myself behind another display, crawling under it, so I emerge on the other side. I’m panting and my pulse pounds in double time.
“Come out, come out, little Omega.”
Somehow he’s behind me again. Damn .
I race forward, sprinting down the backside of a row of display cases, Loren’s voice echoing somewhere behind me. I zag to the left, wedging myself into a tiny nook between displays, gasping for breath. I peek around the shelves, my body quaking with the heady mix of fear and arousal.
Arms wrap around my middle, pinning me in place. I kick, struggling in his grasp, even as desire and my perfume roll off me in a cinnamon and syrup cloud.
“Got you, Love,” Loren growls in my ear.
I nearly melt at the sound of his voice. It’s all liquid chocolate and pleasure. It’s promises of languid afternoons stretched out in the sun, and hot evenings being fucked by candlelight.
I shiver, whining high in my throat. Not a whine of escape, but a whine of wanting.
God damnit, I am already wet for him and I grind my hips back into his, feeling the friction of his stiff length.
Every part of my body is on fire, as though the coals of yesterday’s lust with Max weren’t doused with water, but banked. Loren runs the edge of his teeth over my neck, and they burst into flame, my body glowing hot under his touch.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, licking over where his teeth had traced a path. “Your beauty isn’t delicate, but fierce, like the queens of old. You glow like you’re alive, truly alive, brighter than both our suns. I want to uncover every part of you, to taste each curve and swell, until you whine for me. Until you let me own all of you. Because you’re mine, Love. I’ve caught you, and I’m never letting you go.”
Loren kisses my jaw, my cheek, then my lips. He’s tender at first, his tongue licking lightly as my lips part for him. He sweeps his tongue in, demanding more, tasting me until I am gasping and desperate. I strain, trying to turn in his hold but he’s too strong. One arm loosens enough to grab my chin, forcing me to still.
“If it’s too much, tell me to stop,” he murmurs. “I want everything you are willing to give, Katie. But I want your trust most of all. Alright?”
My heart fractures. My trust. He wants me to trust him. More than sex, more than affection. Tears prickle my eyes and blink them back.
“When I ask a question, I need an answer.” He pauses his kisses to look squarely at me.
“Yes,” I gasp. Then, because I need to distract myself from all these feelings I add coyly, “ Professor .”
Loren growls. Actually, truly growls. Like a feral wolf.
He spins me in his hold, and walks me backward until I am pressed up against one of the shelves. His kiss is demanding, his hands now free to roam. They slide up my shirt, forcing the fabric up until he roughly pulls it off. He bites my collarbone, a sharp pressure without breaking skin, before finally unhooking my bra, and letting it drop to the floor between us.
He stills for a moment, staring at my naked chest.
“Gods above, you're gorgeous.” He leans down, sucking one nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue until I harden.
“Oh that’s nice,” I say, the pleasure a warm tease.
“Mmmm, like that?”
I bite my lower lip. “Yes, professor.”
Loren gently runs his teeth over my hard nipple, biting just enough so I’m right at the edge of pain, but not pushing further. I moan.
“And that?”
“Yes, professor.”
“Are you my good little student?” He asks, before sucking my neglected breast into his mouth. He sucks hard, dragging my nipple to that edge of pleasure-pain and I whimper again.
“You’re so pink,” he murmurs once he releases my nipple, tracing my wet skin with the pad of his thumb.
“Aren’t you?”
Max had kept his shirt on, so I hadn’t looked. But now I’m curious. I tug at his shirt, untucking it from his waistband. He stills my hands, smirking as he slowly unbuttons his dark blue waistcoat. I start at the shirt buttons before he’s finished. The crisp white shirt hangs open, and I eagerly push the fabric aside.
Loren is stacked .
Like, I could feel that he was broad and strong, but the professor is fucking hottie McSixpack.
I’m distracted by the chiseled musculature at first and don’t notice his chest. But as my gaze travels up it’s hard to miss.
His nipples are purple.
Like almost the grape colored crayon purple, ringed with a deep reddish-violet. A bright contrast against his lightly golden skin.
Loren watches me. I run my thumbs around the areolas, circling his nipples until they tighten. He hums, not quite a whine but not a growl either.
“Are you purring ?” I ask.
“It feels good when you do that,” he says, one hand cupping my cheek, the other pulling my hips to his.
“I see, and does the professor like this?” I lick his right nipple, and the purring intensifies.
I suck the tight peak into my mouth, grazing it with my teeth the way he did to me. Loren groans . A guttural sound. If this is how he responds to nipple play, I can’t imagine how he’ll react when I do this further south.
Suddenly my mouth waters. I want that. I want to taste him, explore him. Discover all of his uncharted territory– and let him find mine.
“And does my professor like this?” I ask, kissing a trail down his abdomen, over the lean expansive of his muscles, to the waistband of his pants.
“You’re an astute observer,” he croaks.
Max hadn’t let me see what he was packing, but Loren had no such qualms. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he pulls, not to stop me, but as a grounding pressure. It’s hot, this give and take of control. I am free to explore, and he’s free to pull the reins.
I unbutton his trousers, kissing each inch of skin that is freed. The tip of his hard length bobs against my chin, straining against the fabric. Loren has a round ass, and I can’t help cupping it appreciatively.
He moans, his cock twitching.
“Do you like that, professor?” I ask, before squeezing his ass again.
He mumbles an affirmative.
Then I laugh at myself. He and Callum are lovers. He probably likes a whole lot more. But that’s not my area of specialty, so I bring my hands around to the waistband of his drawers, pulling what are essentially a boxer-brief down with his trousers in a single yank.
His cock springs free and my mouth falls open.
Loren is big .
His cock looks fairly human, with a round head dripping precum, and a noticeable vein that I want to lick all the way up his shaft. His sack hangs in a fine spray of golden curls.
But at the base of his cock is a thick ring of skin, the same purple-red color of his nipples.
“What is this?” I ask, tracing a finger around the flesh.
Loren’s cock jerks in my hand, another bead of precum welling up at the tip. He’s panting, a strangled sound coming from his throat.
“My knot, oh gods Katie. If you keep touching me like that it’s going to swell and I am going to come all over you. You make me act like a newly presented schoolboy.”
He pulls at my hair, just enough to restrain my wandering fingers.
So that’s the knot.
My panties are soaked, and I rub my thighs together, craving friction. Craving Loren.
“Does my professor like when I touch him?” I ask, with mock innocence.
“Always,” he grits out.
I lick my lips. “And does he like it when I kiss him?” I bat my eyelashes. The game we’ve begun makes me bold.
“He does.”
“Well then, I must conduct more research to see if he likes kisses here,” I say, before planting a wet kiss on this tip. Loren huffs, his abs tightening, and I instinctively reach forward to grab his ass as I suck his head into my mouth. His precum is salty, yet somehow retains the taste of him . That effervescent taste of fresh laundry– clean but not soapy– mixed with his own old book musk.
I lick down his shaft, until I reach his knot. I trace the rigid flesh with my tongue, watching as it slowly swells under my attention.
Fuck . It’s hot, and I am panting by the time I lick my way back up his shaft.
Loren’s tug on my hair has me pausing. I pout at him. I want to explore, to map his body. To pull more of those panting moans from him.
“The student is getting ahead of herself,” he says, his voice a husky rumble. He pulls on my hair, until I stand. Then he sweeps me up into his arms, stepping out of his trousers. Lifting me like I weigh nothing, he carries me over to an armchair hidden in the back corner, tucked behind a display of masks and jewelry.
“Now for my research,” he says, laying me back. He spreads me wide, placing one foot on the arm of the chair. He pulls down my jeans and panties all at once. Not preamble, just hunger.
He pauses, kneeling before my splayed legs like he’s at a holy altar.
“So pink,” he whispers reverently.
He kisses my thighs before tracing my folds with the lightest flick of his tongue. I moan, grabbing my own fistful of his hair.
“Does my little student like that?” He asks, pulling back and slipping his glasses off. Ah, those might get in the way. He sets them beside the chair.
“Uh-huh,” I pant. I am so tight, so wet already, so needy and wanting.
Loren sucks my clit, before circling it with his tongue. I moan, gasping as his tongue licks inside me.
God, these men can fucking eat pussy like champs.
Loren holds my hips, licking through my folds before sucking on my clit again.
“Oh God,” I hiss. My hips jerk, and Loren only tightens his hold, his tongue licking fast. He lifts me toward him, changing the angle, and his tongue strokes inside me, brushing against my inner wall.
I shriek, the feel of him intense and so perfect; the pleasure is almost too much to handle. He does it again, and I am nearly undone.
“Fuck, Loren, please,” I beg.
“Did you like that?” He asks, his voice dark.
“Yes professor,” I pant. I want more of his tongue. I want his fingers, and his fucking cock.
“And does this needy little student want more?”
I whimper.
“I need an answer,” he murmurs, hovering over my pussy.
“Yes, professor,” I gasp. “Please, more, please.”
I am desperate and needy. God, I want him, I want to be fucked by him.
“Good girl,” he says. He leans forward, roughly kissing and sucking my clit until I spiral upward, pleasure coursing through me like fire burning me from the inside out.
He strokes into me with his tongue again, his pace quickening with each gasp and moan. I am panting his name, praising and cursing him. Then my hold snaps, and pleasure floods me.
It is a flood , a fucking torrent, and Loren just laps it up like a man dying of thirst.
He pulls away as the last orgasmic shutter runs through me.
He’s grinning like a fool, the shine of my release still coating his chin.
“You taste amazing,” he whispers.
“You feel amazing,” I say, drawing him to me. I kiss my own taste on his lips. Without thinking I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling him adjust so his head gently slides through my soaked folds. It’s both too much and not enough.
He nuzzles my nose, and for a moment I’m not sure if we're going to keep playing our game. Or if we’ve moved to something more .
“Does the professor need to teach you a new lesson?”
I arch my hips, rolling them so his head drags over my clit and down my seam, but not quite entering.
“Yes,” I whine. Loren is the most well-proportioned man I’ve ever seen, let alone slept with. My body tightens with anticipation at the stretch I’m sure he’s going to give me.
He leans forward, kissing me deeply, and lining himself up.
I clench on nothing, wanting him . Wanting Loren, my professor, my Alpha. I am drowsy from the first orgasm, but hungry for more. I whine again, rolling my hips. Too needy to be patient.
Fuck, who am I? I am the queen of patience.
But not with Loren.
“You feel too good, Love. If you keep doing that I’m going to finish before we even get started.”
I open my mouth to taunt him back –then I hear a knock.