SIXTEEN
SAM
The bed is empty next to me when I wake up, my fingers finding nothing but cool sheets and a slept-on pillow when I reach over.
My eyes blink open, sleep releasing me completely as I sit up and the duvet pools on my lap.
Is Devon awake?
It must still be very early, but maybe he got up to get some water, or to use the bathroom.
My jaw almost cracks with my yawn, and I rub my eyes, ready to lie down again, when I glance over at Eli’s crib and find it empty too.
Heart in my throat, I throw off the covers, and climb off the bed, my bare feet tapping on the hardwood floor in search for them.
Oh God, did something happen while I was sleeping? Did Eli need anyth—
My steps slow to a stop, halting completely at the sight that greets me in the living room.
Devon, half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, holding a sleeping Eli on his chest, floral quilt covering them both, pale morning light streaming through the window.
I can only stare at them, my chest tight, the back of my throat burning.
Just for a few seconds. I can only look at them from across the room for just a few seconds because it’s impossible not to go to them.
Devon’s eyes lift and meet mine, more blue than gray in this moment as he holds the most precious thing in my life.
My gaze darts from him to Eli and back to him, but before I can ask him why they’re out here, his low-spoken words reach me.
“He was restless, so I thought I’d try and soothe him.
I don’t think he was hungry, and he didn’t seem to need anything else.
” He carefully sits up, keeping Eli firmly against his bare skin.
“He fell back to sleep after a while, but I didn’t want to set him down in case he woke up again.
You were sleeping so deeply, I didn’t want to disturb you.
I hope that was okay.” He gives me an uncertain smile, and the undercurrent nervousness in it, the doubt that maybe he shouldn’t have done that, make something hot and molten gather in my belly.
He took care of Eli because he didn’t want to wake me up.
He held him while he slept, made sure he was comfortable and warm, and he’s worried he didn’t do the right thing.
“How long have you been out here?” I rasp.
His eyes briefly widen as he shakes his head in thought.
“Oh, uh… I’m not sure. An hour or two?”
I nod, my entire body buzzing.
“Give him to me,” I whisper hoarsely, reaching over to take Eli gently from him. “I’ll put him back in his bed. He’ll be asleep for a little while longer.”
Devon hands him over, but when he makes a move to get up as well, I stop him.
“No.”
The word cuts through the quiet, and he freezes, looking up at me.
“Stay like that. I’ll be back.”
The blood pulses in my veins as Devon nods and I leave to put Eli back in his crib.
By the time I return, Devon has thrown the quilt off himself, his forearms braced on his thighs, his fingers threaded, his knee bouncing, his body tense.
His head snaps up when he hears me approach, his back straightening, the worry clear as day in his lovely eyes as they follow me.
“Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” His sentence cuts off, and he sucks in a sharp breath when I kneel on the carpet between his spread knees, and lean in to nuzzle his soft cock through his boxer-briefs.
“Oh, f-fuck,” he curses under his breath, a full-body shiver going through him when I mouth the bulge through the black material.
Satisfaction fills every part of me when he melts back into the cushions, making room for me.
“Fuck, Sammy…” His voice is already wrecked as he throbs under my lips, growing hard and thick with every passing second.
And I’ve barely even started.
My fingers curl into the elastic band, and he hisses when I free him, the cool air kissing his hot shaft.
My mouth waters, his scent so strong I can taste it, so intoxicating it’s making me dizzy with need.
I look up, drinking him in like this—chest rising and falling fast, gaze blazing and desperate, dark hair disheveled, thick muscles straining, cock hard, fat, red, all for me. And I make sure my eyes never stray from his as I palm his length, and run the flat of my tongue from root to tip.
He growls low in his throat, the sound tapering off to a barely-there whimper I’ve never heard from him before.
It’s crushing need. Undiluted want. Bottomless adoration.
And love.
I’m trembling when my lips close around the head, but so is he. The taste of salt, skin, and him explodes in my mouth, and invades my senses as I lick and suckle on the tip, and I just… let go.
My eyes flutter shut as I take him deep, sliding up and down, losing myself in the rhythm, groaning when he hits the back of my throat and I choke. So good. Being full with him feels so damn good.
A raw, guttural sound rips from him, and I feel his fingers thread in my hair, fisting it tightly in a possessive grip that has my entire body tingling.
“Fuck, beautiful. You look perfect with your mouth full of my cock.” His hips roll gently, thrusting up, feeding me every delicious inch, and I’m in fucking heaven.
“Look at those pink lips stretched around me. Look at you drooling all over me like you can’t get enough.
And you can’t, can you? Fuck, no,” he grits out when I double down, bobbing my head faster on him, bathing him in my saliva.
“Fuck, you’re so good. So fucking good. So fucking hungry for your alpha’s cock, aren’t you, my perfect, sweet omega? ”
My eyelashes are spiked with tears when I blink my eyes open.
But I need to look at him, because I need to see him go wild for me, feral for me when I nod at his words.
I need to watch him drown in euphoric ruin, panting when I rub the sensitive spot at the base of his shaft where his knot grows when he comes.
I need him as gone for me as I am for him.
He releases my hair and cups my face when I slip my mouth off him, and he looks at me like I’m his one and only salvation as I reach under my long T-shirt and slide my underwear down my legs.
He gets rid of his too as I climb on the couch, straddling his lap. His hands grip my hips, bunching the material of my shirt. I exhale shakily, and he shudders when we both feel what a mess I’ve made of myself while I was sucking him off.
“This is what you do to me, Devon,” I murmur, voice rough, wrecked from his cock.
Good. “You feel this?” I grind on him, rubbing my slick hole all over him.
“You feel how wet I am? How wet you made me?” I run my hands over his hard, strong chest, my arms looping around his neck as I breathe my words on his lips.
“You feel me dripping on your cock right now?” His grip turns bruising, his eyes black pools of want I could drown in and never resurface.
“This is all for you. Always. Only. For you.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Only for my alpha.”
A strangled sound of painful longing tears from him as his hand suddenly grasps my nape, and he crashes our mouths together. I moan around his tongue, fire scorching every cell of my being as he devours me in claiming strokes that have my body shaking.
He muffles my cry when his fingers slip under my shirt, gather my slick, and sink inside me.
“You’re always so warm, Sammy. So soft,” he rasps, his fingers massaging me deep until I can’t think, before they’re replaced by the swollen head of his cock at my entrance.
My back arches, my thighs straining to help me rise, and I bear down, sucking on his bottom lip, a whimper climbing up my throat as he slowly drives into me.
He fills me completely. He fills my body, my mind, every corner of my heart.
I pant against his mouth when he’s seated fully inside me, but my throat tightens for an entirely different reason.
It’s the tender smile that tips his lips. It’s the way he’s looking at me like I’m all he sees. It’s him, laying himself bare in front of me, and letting me see everything.
“You know what you feel like?” he mutters in an intimate whisper as I begin to rock on him, and he rips the shirt I’m wearing off me.
His eyes roam my body while I move on him, his hands touching me everywhere—spanning my waist, jerking my leaking cock, rubbing my sensitive nipples—before they settle on my ass, his nails digging into the flesh.
Branding me. “You feel like mine.” I ride him leisurely, letting myself enjoy every hard inch of him, the pleasure from his touch, from his words unimaginable.
Unbearable. They make my body burn, they make my heart explode.
They hurt. They hurt so perfectly I can’t see him clearly anymore, his face so damn blurry in front of me.
His hands come up to cradle my face, his eyes soft as he leans in to catch an errant tear with his lips, just like that night in his office.
His eyes look almost entirely light-blue when he pulls back.
“You feel like home, Sam. You feel like my mate.”
My whole body throbs in tandem with my heart, the last word radiating through me.
Mate. His mate. His home.
His.
Yes. The rightness of it washes over me, resonating in my very soul.
His thumbs stroke my cheeks as his eyes bore into mine, and the apprehension, the burning longing in them, make my heart stop.
“Will you?” he whispers. “Will you be my mate?”
We’re not even moving anymore, just holding each other, breathing against each other.
My hands slip into his hair, and he shivers when my nails drag over the back of his scalp.
“Don’t ask me,” I mutter.
His eyes widen, and then, his entire expression transforms as a grin stretches his lips, his dimple popping.
His voice remains soft.
“Be my mate, Sammy.” His thumb brushes the freckles across my cheekbone. “Please.”
I use my grip on his hair to pull myself closer.
Because he’s too damn far away.
I need him closer.
“Yes,” I breathe, and his mouth is on mine in a heartbeat. He doesn’t need to say anything else. He has said enough.
No. He has said everything. Now he just feeds me his happiness, kissing me over and over until my lips are raw and tingly from his stubble.