Chapter 25 #2
His gaze flicks to Mylo, and my lips peel away from my teeth, baring as I growl.
Even across the room, he can feel it. His ears tense subtly back—the same muscles that would pin them, if we were shifted—and his nose twitches as he sizes me up.
Whether it’s because he clocks the four inches I have on him, he’s not as strong as he used to be, or he’s just a more agreeable alpha, he drops his eyes and bows his head in respect.
Mylo clings to me so tightly I might actually lose circulation in my hand, and I lead him to the elevators, stepping inside and tapping my room key to punch in my floor, second to the top.
As soon as the doors slide shut, Mylo drops my arm like it’s a dead fish. Enclosed spaces filled with my scent make him bold, apparently.
“I bet you’re loving this,” he snarls.
The first sound from my chest is an incredulous hah. “Why would I love this?”
“You get to be the center of attention. Everybody’s favorite. This is all just a big ego trip for you, isn’t it, princess?” He spits that last word, dripping with bitterness.
A wave of rage sweeps me forward, and my hand slams into the elevator wall just above his head, sending the metal clanging.
He freezes, and his wide eyes turn up at me.
A growl surges past my bared fangs. “You want to say that again?” I grip his jaw, and he jolts at my touch. “Go ahead. Call me ‘princess.’”
His breath trembles in his open mouth, and his pupils blow wide. Then his throat tightens in a low, needy whimper.
My instincts react on a hair trigger, and I pull his mouth to mine. His moan deepens as his eyes flutter shut, and I sweep my tongue along his. He returns the kiss, hungry and desperate.
I hook my hands under his thighs, pulling him up and pinning him against the wall with a shudder of hollow metal.
His hands slide around my neck, tangling in my hair, and his hardening cock throbs against my stomach.
I’m vaguely aware of the elevator doors opening too early. A whiff of dull beta scent laced with shock drifts by us before the doors rattle shut again.
Guess they decided to wait for the next car.
When the elevator’s robotic voice calls out my floor, I pull Mylo back from the wall and he wraps his legs around my waist, all without breaking the kiss.
I stumble down the hallway, every exhale a moan as my heart thunders in my chest, limbs tingling with energy.
Only habit guides me to my room, and I paw blindly for the keycard in my pocket, bracing Mylo clumsily against the door.
I get my fingers on the card, and he tightens his hands in my hair, whimpering against my mouth.
My hips twitch, and Mylo lets out a breathy gasp.
It takes more tries than it should, but I finally manage to tap the card on the lock.
As the door swings open behind Mylo, I stumble forward. There’s the thump of our bags hitting the floor and the click of the door swinging shut behind us as I brace against the island of the kitchenette, regaining my balance.
Mylo has such a death grip on my hair that I couldn’t break the kiss if I wanted, so I paw my way through the suite, falling over the bed as my shins hit the mattress.
Mylo gasps against my mouth, loosening his grip on me to pull at my clothes.
I shift my kisses across his lips, nipping at the edge of his jaw and sending his back arching. His violent shudder gives me an opening to yank my top and bra off, freeing my breasts.
Mylo’s hot hands wrap them, and he squeezes hard.
I lick his neck, then suck at that sweet citrus scent. It blossoms into honeyed florals as I shove down the waistband of my sweatpants and thong, then kick them aside.
My hand slides up the inside of Mylo’s thigh, earning shudders and hisses. When my palm finds his throbbing cock over his shorts, he lets out the sweetest, most desperate cry.
A familiar, deep tingle spreads through my fingers as my nails turn to claws. I’ve always experienced shifting in parts: an extension of whatever instinct guides me in that moment.
I grip the waistband of Mylo’s shorts and boxers, starting a tear with a razor-sharp claw and finishing it with raw strength. His cock springs free, already glistening with wetness. As I gently pull his foreskin back, accumulated pre-cum slides down over my fingers.
I lift my hand, dragging a claw along Mylo’s chin.
His hazy, fractured gaze collects, finding mine.
I hold his eyes as I lick his arousal from my palm. It tastes like candied oranges, and my mouth waters, drool sliding from my hand to join his slick.
“Fuck, you taste good.”
Mylo whimpers, stricken, trembling as his cock leaks again.
“You need it bad, don’t you?”
Mylo moans incoherently: the only answer I need.
Tempting as it is to take that cute little cock all the way down my throat, to suck that candied orange taste from him until he’s dry, that’ll have to wait for later.
I know what my omega needs.
I straddle him, gently guiding his cock to the center of my ache.
Mylo cries out with relief, arching back.
Pleasure ripples from the place we meet, winding through my body, made brighter by his every noise, everywhere his hot skin presses against mine.
I need more.
My claws find the hem of his tank top, and I yank it off over his head, using it to pin his hands there.
His eyes roll back, body going taut as a drawn bow in my grasp. I cradle his cheek with my free hand as Mylo gasps through the first of many climaxes to come.
My hips rock, steady and firm, already pulling him toward the next peak.
And fuck, it feels good. Everything about him sends my arousal boiling: his dark, sweat-damp hair falling across his face; his expression of sheer overwhelm; those sounds of sweet desperation; that honeyed citrus scent.
My inner muscles coil tighter and tighter, seeking a lock.
It’s the kind of thing that’s not possible with a beta, that can only be poorly imitated with toys. I’m not even exactly sure what it’s supposed to feel like.
And there it is: the throb of Mylo’s cock as it swells, forming a subtle knot, much smaller than an alpha’s.
It fits perfectly.
“Fuck, Mylo…” The sensation is utter ecstasy, and I pull against it, shuddering. My hair hangs between us, except for the strands sticking to my damp neck and chest.
Mylo feels the lock too; his breath freezes in his lungs, back arching.
The pressure gives, and my hips lift away. I huff at the sudden emptiness, and Mylo lets out a plaintive whine until I sink around him again. I squeeze tight, and his shuddering breath signals his relief.
Keeping a thread of coherent thought through this aching, pulsing need is like building a sand castle underwater, but somehow I manage.
Mylo said he’d never gone into heat before, so he might not be able to form a full lock yet. I force myself back into my smooth rhythm, rocking my clit against his hips, squeezing tight, resisting the urge to lift and pull.
Mylo unravels beneath me, gasping and panting, melting into surrender.
It’s exquisite.
I release his pinned hands, letting his tank-top fall to the side. My arms slide down behind him to cradle his head and shoulders, and my hips work that steady rhythm to give him exactly what he needs.
His cock throbs rhythmically against my inner walls, and I can’t tell if he’s cumming or leaking—though it doesn’t really matter. Neither will stop for a long while.
As Mylo’s breathing tips into overwhelmed sobs, my lips drop to his feverish skin, drifting kisses across his cheeks and neck.
His spine tenses. “I c-can’t… I can’t stop… cumming…”
“Shhhh…” I curl around him, pressing his cheek against my neck.
His arms wrap my shoulders, clinging.
I slow my hips, giving him a break from the rocking, even as my inner muscles grip rhythmically, pulling him through another shaking climax.
I hold him like that for as long as I can stand, letting the tension and heat keep draining from his body.
My edge draws slowly closer, until I teeter on it with every catch in his breath, every low whimper.
“Fuck, Mylo…” I force a deep breath past visceral shudders. “I’m going to cum now. And you’re going to come down with me, alright?”
“Please,” he whimpers. “I can’t stop, I can’t—”
“Fuck, Mylo!” My hips jerk forward as his plaintive words drive me over the edge. Hard pulses start at my core and radiate outwards in waves of aching relief.
Mylo cries out, head tipping back at the vice-like squeeze. I can’t help but grind again, redoubling my pleasure, carrying one orgasm into another as release crashes through me.
He cums as long as I do, and as my breathing gradually slows, so does his. My aftershocks fade, and his cock softens as his body follows my lead, both of us captive to instinct.
I carefully roll over and pull Mylo onto my chest, groaning as his gentle swell pulls out of me.
The puddle of wetness soaking the bed and slowly draining from me is a problem for later. At least I don’t have to worry about pregnancy; female alphas rarely conceive naturally.
Mylo nuzzles into my chest, resting his cheek on my breast and relaxing against me. His gentle weight soothes me, assuring my alpha instincts that all is right in the world. My arms wrap his shoulders, pressing him tighter.
This moment won’t last long.
Lucky for me, I’m pretty good at living in the moment.
I tuck my nose into Mylo’s hair and breathe deep those precious florals that have bloomed only for me.