6. Let Lust Control Our Beginning
Let Lust Control Our Beginning
~ELIZABETH~
W hy can’t I stop thinking about him?
Steam fills the shower, curling around me like a suffocating blanket.
I stand under the scalding spray, my hands braced against the cool tiles, head bowed, trying to focus on anything but the thrumming heat in my body.
The water is supposed to soothe me, to quiet the restless tension rolling through me in waves. But it doesn’t—not when his scent still lingers in the air, clinging to my skin like a phantom.
Carter Giovanni.
No matter how hard I try to shut it out, his scent, his voice, his presence—they’re everywhere. The moment he left the room, it felt as though something vital went with him.
And yet, he hasn’t really left.
He’s still here, haunting me, invading every thought, every breath.
I press my forehead to the tile, my fingers curling into fists. My chest rises and falls unevenly, my breathing labored as though I’ve just sprinted a mile. This isn’t normal. I’m not normal—not when my body responds to the memory of him with an ache so sharp it steals my breath.
He has to be playing with me…
I keep thinking this while sinking my teeth into the bottom of my lip. I need some sort of pain stimulus to tame my wild thoughts.
There’s no way it’s this easy. No way you meet an Alpha, and suddenly, everything—your walls, your morals, your sanity—just crumbles.
But even as I think it, a small, treacherous part of me hopes otherwise.
What if it’s not a game? What if this unbearable pull between us is real?
No…this could be a prank. Coordinated by all those Omegas waiting for my ultimate failure. Submission by using this new guy to plan my demise…
I’m trying to find any way to convince myself that this isn’t real…
But my heart doesn’t want to.
Can’t I have something good like this happen to me for once?
A soft groan slips from my lips, frustration and need battling inside me.
My hands slide down the tiles as I lean forward, the water rushing over my back, hot and relentless. My imagination isn’t helping—it tempts and lures me into dangerous territory.
I can almost see him, stepping into the shower, his hands gripping my hips, his voice low and commanding as he whispers sinful things that make my knees weak.
A shiver runs through me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the vivid images. But they won’t stop. My body betrays me, my breath hitching as my fingers brush over my stomach, then lower.
Between my slightly trembling thighs, glazing across my slick covered folds that feel chilled compared to my insides that are burning hot.
A soft gasp escapes my lips as my fingertips graze the place that aches the most. I’m desperately building up the need to slip my fingers within, to feel the warmth of my own pulsing walls. The water mingles with the heat coursing through me, and I let out a shaky breath, my hips shifting instinctively.
My mind spirals deeper, conjuring the sensation of his hands on me, his lips against my neck, and his growl vibrating through my skin.
And then I feel it—warmth that isn’t the water.
Lips, soft and deliberate, press against the curve of my neck making me arch at his touch.
“Don’t stop.”
My eyes snap open, my breath catching in my throat. For a split second, I freeze every nerve in my body on high alert. Then his voice registers.
Carter.
He’s here, right behind me, his heat seeping into my skin, making the air feel even thicker.
My voice comes out in a shaky whisper.
“Carter…”
A low growl rumbles in his chest, the sound resonating through me as his lips move against my neck. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t hesitate, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that makes my toes curl. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me back against him until I feel every inch of him, bare and drenched just like me.
“You should’ve run,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “But now that you didn’t…” He lets the words hang, unfinished, as his teeth scrape the sensitive spot just below my jaw.
I shiver, my head falling back against his shoulder.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I whisper, though the tremor in my voice betrays the storm raging inside me. Anything to delay the inevitable. To find an excuse for him to leave, even if my body is desperate to feel every inch of his touch.
His chuckle is dark, rich, and laced with a confidence that makes my stomach flip.
“You should be,” he says, his voice a tantalizing mix of warning and promise.
One of his hands slides up, his fingers wrapping lightly around the front of my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but the weight of his palm is enough to make my pulse quicken beneath his touch. His other hand stays firm on my hip, holding me steady as his lips claim mine in a kiss that steals what little breath I have left.
It’s not gentle.
It’s fire and hunger, tongues and teeth, a clash that leaves me gasping. My hands fly up instinctively—one tangling in his wet hair, the other gripping his forearm.
The kiss unravels me, stripping away the last vestiges of control I cling to, and I moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his growl.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling as the water streams over us. His hazel eyes burn into mine, molten and unrelenting, and I feel my resolve crumble completely under the weight of his gaze.
“Put your feet on mine,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.
I blink, confused as I stare up into his playful gaze.
“What?”
His hands slide down my sides, his touch firm but careful as he shifts me slightly.
“Your feet,” he repeats, patient yet insistent. “They’re bruised. Let me take the weight.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the warmth of his hands and the certainty in his tone silence me. Slowly, hesitantly, I lift one foot, placing it on top of his. His grip on my hip tightens, steadying me, and I exhale shakily as I do the same with my other foot.
“There,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple as he pulls me closer to him, my back taking in the divine lines of his chiseled muscle.
“See?” he quietly offers into my ear, lightly tugging on my earlobe. “Not so heavy after all.”
My chest tightens, my heart pounding as his hands slide to the front of my thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles. The contrast between his firm grip and gentle touch sends a shiver racing through me, and I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes my lips.
“You’re impossible,” I whisper, my voice trembling despite the flicker of amusement I feel. He smirks against my skin, his fingers clenching possessively on my thighs.
“And you’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and filled with a certainty that makes my pulse skip.
I melt against him, my hands bracing against his arms for balance as my head tips back. In this moment, the weight of everything else fades, leaving only the two of us.
Oddly enough, for the first time, I let myself fall into this potential trap, hoping it’s far from that. Praying that my suffering has finally been heard and the universe is taking pity by bringing me someone who potentially doesn’t want perfection.
Who’s okay with someone as imperfect and untamed…
His chest is pressed firmly against my back, his warmth searing into me despite the cascading heat of the water. My feet rest atop his, his strength keeping me balanced as though I weigh nothing at all. My breath hitches as his hardness presses against the curve of my ass, a silent but undeniable reminder of what he wants.
Of what I want.
And then his hands.
Oh, God, his hands.
One slides between my thighs, his fingers brushing against my slick skin with an unbearable precision. A whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it, my body trembling as his other arm tightens around my waist, anchoring me against him.
“You’re breathtaking,” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky caress against my ear. His fingers begin a slow, deliberate rhythm, teasing, coaxing, as though he has all the time in the world to unravel me. “Bare and beautiful. And all mine to touch.”
My head falls back against his shoulder, my lips parting in a desperate gasp as he presses deeper, the pads of his fingers circling a spot that makes my knees feel like water.
“This,” he continues, his lips trailing along my jaw, “this is how you should always look. Not wrapped up in shields and thorns. Just you, Elizabeth. Vulnerable, wild, real .”
My voice trembles as I try to form words, a pitiful attempt at holding onto some semblance of control.
“You—y-you can’t just say things like that.”
He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against my back as his fingers slip lower, testing me, learning me.
“I mean every word,” he says, his tone low and reverent. “I knew it from the moment I saw you on that stage.”
My eyes snap open, the haze of arousal momentarily disrupted.
“The stage?” I manage, my voice a soft, uneven whisper.
His movements don’t falter, his fingers finding a rhythm that makes me bite my lip to stifle a moan.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “The way you moved—so fluid, so precise. Every twist of your hips, every stretch of your limbs—it was captivating. Such beauty that needs to be acknowledged and praised.”
A flush burns its way up my neck and cheeks, both from his words and the relentless pleasure building in my core.
“How do you even know all that? I mean…it’s just one performance. You sound like you have dance experience,” I say, my words breathy and broken as my hips instinctively shift against his hand.
His lips curve into a smirk against my ear.
“Why do you want to know?” he asks, his voice teasing and laced with mischief.
I try to glare up at him, but the way his fingers delve deeper makes it impossible to hold onto anything but the pleasure coursing through me.
“Just—just curious,” I manage, my voice a soft whimper.
Curious to find out about this man who’s seemed to pop out of nowhere.
Yet, it’s suddenly his mission to unravel every bit of me.
He’s already made it so far by having his fingers deep inside me — my naked body plastered against his.
He hums thoughtfully, his fingers sliding out only to glide back in, dragging over every sensitive spot like he’s been studying my body for years.
“Do you want me to show you?” he asks, his tone dropping, each word a challenge. “There’s not much space in this shower, but if you’re thinking of a particular move…”
A surprised laugh bubbles out of me, shaky and breathless.
“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper, though the corners of my lips twitch into a smile.
“Am I?” he murmurs, his voice darkening.
His fingers slip deeper, and the shift in angle makes my back arch, my breath catching in my throat as a cry tears free. Every muscle in my body tightens as he begins to move faster, his strokes firm, deliberate, and devastatingly perfect.
His free hand roams up my side, pausing to palm my breast, his thumb teasing the sensitive peak. My head tips back against him, my vision blurring as I give in to the sensation — give in to him .
“Carter,” I gasp, my fingers scrambling for stability against his forearm.
“Good girl,” he growls, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear. He doesn’t know how that single bit of praise is driving me far too close to an orgasm. I’ve never come this fast by just fingers. Not even my own fingers can drive me so maddeningly to a climax. “Feel it. Let yourself go, Elizabeth. Just for me.”
His words, his voice, the sheer authority laced in every syllable—it pushes me closer to the edge, my body trembling under the weight of his command.
“This—this is insane,” I whisper, turning my head just enough for my lips to graze his jaw. “I don’t—I don’t act on instinct like this. I never?—”
He cuts me off with a kiss, his mouth claiming mine with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. His teeth nip at my bottom lip, his tongue sweeping inside to tangle with mine, and I’m lost all over again.
“You don’t,” he murmurs against my lips, his fingers quickening their pace. “But I do. And now, so do you. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself fall.”
I can’t fight it anymore.
The tension coils tighter and tighter, as I’m practically on my tiptoes as if I can escape the way his fingers are deeply thrusting at a ferocious pace that’s executed so effortlessly. Every nerve in my body ignites under his touch until finally, it snaps.
Fuck!
“C-Cart…” I can’t even finish whimpering his name.
My release crashes over me like a tidal wave, my cry muffled against his shoulder as my body writhes in his hold. He doesn’t stop, his fingers drawing out every shudder, every tremble until I’m nothing but a quivering, breathless mess in his arms.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against my temple. “Just like that.”
His fingers slip out of me, leaving me empty and yearning, but he doesn’t give me a chance to recover. His hands slide to my hips, guiding me to bend forward as he whispers,
“Hands against the wall.”
My mind spins, his command pulling me back to the present.
I hesitate, glancing down at my feet still resting on his.
“Should I…” I trail off, unsure.
He smirks, his palm sliding over the curve of my ass, his touch firm and possessive.
“Yes,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Stay right where you are. Keep your feet on mine.”
I bite my lip, my pulse racing as I brace myself against the cool tiles.
“And if I don’t?”
His hand comes down lightly on my ass, the slap sharp enough to make me gasp but not enough to sting. He chuckles darkly, his palm soothing the spot he struck as he leans in close, his breath hot against my ear.
That was fucking hot,
I’m even more surprised that I actually liked that.
God. I’ve lost my damn mind.
“Then you’re not my obedient little Omega,” he whispers, his voice dripping with wicked intent. “But we both know you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”
A shiver races down my spine, and I nod, my voice a breathless murmur.
“Yes, Carter.”
“Good,” he growls, his hand trailing down my thigh before sliding back up to grip my waist. “Now bend over and stay just like this for me.”
I do as he says, my body thrumming with anticipation as I brace myself against the wall, his words echoing in my mind.
Be a good girl.
For him, I can’t be anything else.
This could be the initiation I need to see what’s ahead of this.
Whatever it is.