Chapter Nine
Ava
I should tell him to go fuck himself. I’ve felt his eyes on me all night, and I couldn’t breathe with the way he was watching me, even though he was trying so hard to pretend he wasn’t.
I try to run through all my thoughts from the other day about silence in the name of oppression, only the champagne has been flowing since mimosas this morning and everything is a little bit fuzzy, and his body feels so good against mine.
His scent envelops me, and it’s like it short-circuits my brain.
So even as I’m trying to remember all of my very solid reasons to not interact with and definitely not sleep with Mark Taylor, I find myself moving to the rhythm again. In my heels, my ass is lined up perfectly with his hardening cock, and a small sound escapes me as I feel it.
I know he heard it, because I feel his grip tighten on my hips.
Damn him. His fingertips sit in the same spot that had bruises all week from a similar position, and my omega responds in kind.
She surges to the front of my mind, fighting for dominance.
The urge to pull him away from the brunette beta bitch he came with claws at my insides.
I want to coat him in my scent, make sure any other woman knows he’s taken.
I shake my head to dislodge the thought. He isn’t ours, and she needs to understand that.
It’s a bizarre sensation, feeling like another sentient being is fighting you within your own mind.
But that’s exactly how I feel at the moment.
The fact that Mark is actually a good dancer and his hips roll in time with mine is adding fuel to the fire.
My omega snarls inside me, and I feel my arms rise almost on their own volition and weave around his neck.
I’d worry about people watching, but the dance floor is too crowded and the liquor is flowing too freely. Any attention is solidly on the bride and groom, where it should be.
“You’re quite the dancer,” he says hotly in my ear.
I don’t respond, because I’m still busy battling for control against my omega. I’m afraid if I say anything just yet, the only words I’ll be able to get out will involve begging him to fuck me.
The DJ seamlessly blends the end of the song with the beginning of the next one so the energy doesn’t drop. I see Evan starting to push his way through the crowd, and Mark must see him as well, because he spins us so that his body blocks Evan’s view of me.
“Jealous?” I manage to gasp out.
“Shut up,” he answers in a mirror of my words from earlier. There’s an edge to his voice that makes my nipples harden. I’d smirk in triumph if I didn’t feel like I was literally drowning in horniness.
The reaction this man elicits in my body should be studied.
I arch my ass firmly back into him.
“Christ, Ava,” he growls. The way his hands flex on my hip, I think we might be about a half-second from dry humping on the floor.
Thankfully, at that moment, Samantha appears and grabs my hand. “Ava! There you are! Come dance with us!” She tugs me away from Mark and towards the other bridesmaids. I smile at her, hiding my disappointment. It’s her wedding, and she just saved me from making a scene.
“Lead the way, Mrs. Hawthorne!” I say, forcing excitement into my voice.
Unable to help myself, I glance back over my shoulder towards Mark, who is still standing where we were, eyes dark and predatory. My omega whines within me, but without his scent enveloping us, I’m able to push her back down.
The next time I look back, he’s nowhere to be seen, and there’s an ache somewhere deep within my body that tells me he must have left. That’s for the best.
Right?
I thank Tony as I slide out of the car. He grunts his normal response, and I grin. It doesn’t matter how out of sorts I am or how chaotic my life feels, Tony is one thing that never changes.
I head upstairs to my penthouse, taking deep, calming breaths once I’m alone in the elevator. My blood has felt like it was on fire ever since I danced with Mark. I need a cool shower, stat.
Valentino, my fluffy, white ragdoll, chirps at me in greeting once I’m inside.
I stroke my hand along her back and up her tail, savoring the softness of her fur.
She really should be named Valentina, but I had thought she was a boy when I first got her, and named her after one of my favorite designer houses.
A sudden cramp nearly doubles me over in pain, and I suck in a breath between clenched teeth.
My brow furrows in confusion. I’m not in heat, but that definitely felt like the cramps I get when I am.
A deep, pulsing need washes through me, and I realize what’s happening.
My omega is throwing a tantrum, demanding the release I denied her on the dance floor.
I don’t exactly know how, but I get the distinct feeling that this is a threat of sorts.
Give in to this obsession she has with Mark, or she’ll fight me harder than she ever has.
A shiver of fear crawls down my spine. Is my omega side strong enough to break through the suppressants if she was really determined?
Flashes of my night at his apartment fill my mind, and the look he gave me as I walked away from the dance floor. If it’s possible for a vagina to ache from being empty, mine is definitely doing it now.
“Oh my god, fine! But he might not even come over!” I say out loud to my empty apartment.
Great. Now I’m talking to myself, like a crazy person. I grab my phone, punching in my address and instructions on where and how to utilize the service elevator. I press send before I can second-guess myself or my omega can punish me with another cramp.
I know, despite my words, that he will definitely come over. Everything that I feel, Mark seems to as well. Something about that certainty tries to catch my attention, but I purposefully ignore it.
Instead, I unlock the front door and make my way to the bathroom.
It takes some effort to maneuver out of my reception dress.
Thank god I’d opted against an updo and I didn’t have to fight ninety-seven bobby pins to get my hair down.
I quickly take off my makeup while the water heats up, and I step beneath the spray.
Anticipation, desire, and anxiety are all at battle in my mind as I wash away the sweat from the dance floor.
This is very different from the night at his apartment.
That was an error in judgement, our tempers getting the best of us.
If he shows up here now, it is a deliberate step forward into something that I’m terrified to name.
I’ve almost convinced myself to text him that I’ve changed my mind when I hear the bathroom door open. I turn and find Mark leaned against the frame. He’s lost the tie and jacket, and now his collar is unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up. My mouth practically waters at how good he looks.
He watches me with the same look he had on the dance floor, and it makes goosebumps break out along my skin.
The urge to present is strong, but I fight through it.
Instead, in an effort to maintain some kind of control in this situation, I close my eyes and lean back into the water, letting it rinse my conditioner away.
I thought he’d join me, but when I finish and open my eyes, he’s still standing in place, enjoying the show. He hasn’t spoken, and I think a part of me understands. He put the moves on me when I showed up at his place. This time, he’s going to make me come to him.
A flash of annoyance makes my skin flush. I texted him my address, isn’t that enough? Yet even as I think it, there’s a begrudging respect underneath too. Mark always gives as good as he gets. I will never be able to railroad this man into anything.
I turn the water off and grab my towel. His eyes trace a slow path along my entire body, and it’s possible that I’m a little more sultry and suggestive as I dry off. Maybe. Allegedly.
I move to my vanity, spraying in my leave-in conditioner and quickly braiding my hair into a single long rope.
With anyone else, I think the mundane action would have tempered the desire smoldering between us, yet with Mark and the way he’s watching me, it seems like it only increases it.
He makes no effort to rush me, and by the time I’m done, I’m so wet it might as well be slick.
I need this man inside of me like yesterday.
I walk toward him, slowly. His eyes are hooded, and the normal brown of his irises are practically black with how blown his pupils are.
Once I’m within arm’s reach, I have a better understanding of his nickname, because what he does is best described as a pounce.
He’s on me so quickly, I squeak in surprise.
His large hands grip my ass and lift me up so that I’m forced to wrap my legs around his hips.
“Tell me where your bedroom is right now, or I’m fucking you here against this wall,” he grinds out between clenched teeth.
Unable to speak, I just point across the hall at the open door. Thankfully, the door to my nest is safely closed, namely because I don’t like Valentino to get in there when I’m gone.
He carries me to the room, his mouth meeting mine in a kiss so desperate, it’s like he’s drowning and I’m the only source of oxygen around. He kicks the door closed behind him and tosses me onto the mattress.
“On your hands and knees, Ava,” he demands.
My omega is happy to oblige to this request. I move into position, and I expect him to push himself inside me.
Instead, I feel his tongue drag upward from my clit and dip inside of me.
Something about being eaten from the back like this always feels so much more explicit, and I moan his name in a needy display that I should be more embarrassed about than I am.
He nibbles, sucks, licks, and fingers me until I’ve forgotten everything in the entire world outside of this bedroom. If cunnilingus was an Olympic sport, Mark would win the gold, hands down. He takes me over the edge to where I’m not sure if it’s multiple orgasms or a single, never-ending one.
I’m practically sobbing with overstimulation and need when he finally pulls away from me. “Tell me you have a condom,” he says against the curve of my ass, breathing hard.
I desperately want to lie and tell him I don’t, because my omega hates the idea of anything between us. But that will require a bit of conversation, so I point to the end table beside the bed. I’m fairly certain there’s a couple in there. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone over.
“Don’t fucking move,” he growls, and I hear the drawer open and the ripping of the wrapper.
Then he returns, his hands sliding into place on my hips mirroring how they were on the dance floor.
He grips them and pulls me forcefully back, burying his cock within me.
He’s still standing at the edge of the bed, and he moves one hand around to my stomach, tugging me so that my back is to his chest.
The pace he sets is relentless, almost as if he’s punishing me for making him feel this way, and I think in a way, he probably is. But fuck, if it doesn’t feel incredible.
Mark moves his other hand forward until he finds my clit, stroking and rolling it between his fingers gently, in direct contrast to the pounding of his cock inside me. The mismatched sensations tip me over again, and my entire body tenses and shakes as I come.
His teeth graze the juncture where my shoulder meets my neck, and I think for the briefest moment he’s going to bite me for real.
I inhale sharply, and he pulls back with an audible snap of his mouth.
I know he thinks I responded out of fear of a bond mark, but what’s more frightening is that I’m not scared at all.
In fact, the desire for it takes my breath away.
I pull myself off him, and I see the brief flash of hurt and disappointment before he shutters it. He thinks I’m rejecting him because of how close he came.
I should.
Instead, I turn and cup his cheeks between my palm to kiss him greedily, not caring that my wetness is on his lips. I tug him toward me, and he grips my ass once more, lifting me easily and seating himself back inside of me.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, Ava,” he moans.
“Shut up and make me come again, Mark,” I answer, and I feel all my logical and righteous reasons to not pursue this float away like a feather on the wind as my omega and I find some sort of compromise.
I won’t let him bond me and I won’t tell him my secret. But this—this I can do.