She scrunched her nose.
Crossed her arms tighter.
“I am avoiding you!” she said, voice rising, snapping with bratty heat.
“You told me to stay away! That’s what
I’m doing!
And she looked so f*****g serious saying it. Like she wasn’t standing there like a wet dream. Like her cunt wasn’t betraying her with every drop it let fall.
I clicked my tongue.
Stepped again.
Now I was right in front of her.
Chest to chest.
Heat to heat.
One more inch and she’d feel my c**k pressing against her stomach. One more second and she’d find out just how massive it really was. How fragile she really was.
“You want to talk about what I said?”
I whispered darkly, voice brushing her lips.
“I said you couldn’t handle me. That I’d break that pretty p***y in half. That one thrust of this c**k would have you crying on your knees.”
She blinked fast.
Too fast.
Like she was holding back tears or filth or both.
“And I meant every f*****g word,” snarled.
“You’d bleed, Lyra. You’d scream. You’d claw at my chest like you’re drowning. I’d split that tiny hole open so wide you’d feel me for days.
Her arms dropped.
She wasn’t breathing right.
Her chest rose in quick, desperate pants. Her n*****s brushed mine through the fabric, and fuck..they were hard. Angry. Aching.
She didn’t know what to do with her hands. They twitched at her sides, fingers curling like she was fighting the need to touch herself.
Like if I gave her thirty more seconds, she’d beg me to bend her over the porch and f**k her with my fingers until she collapsed.
“Get inside, Lyra,”
I hissed, my teeth clenched so tight the words came out sharp and animalistic.
“Before I
******g lose it.”
She didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Her thighs squeezed again. Slick shined under them. My eyes dropped and saw the trail drip from her cunt and cling to the inside of her knee.
“I said get the f**k inside,”
I snapped, voice cracking with restraint, before I rip that shirt off you, shove you against the nearest wall, and f**k you so hard you forget what you came out here for in the first place.”
She gasped.
She didn’t even try to hide it this time.
That sweet little mouth dropped open like it belonged stretched around my c**k. Her legs twitched. Her fingers curled tight like she was holding onto the last thread of her composure. But it was slipping..so fast, so helplessly…and she knew it.
Her lips parted again, just enough to let out that soft, barely-there whimper. f**k.
I stepped even closer, chest grazing hers now, her n*****s stabbing through the fabric, hot and hard and begging.
I dragged my finger up her thigh.
Didn’t touch her cunt. Not yet.
Just gathered that drop.
Held it up between us.
Watched her stare at it with wide, dazed eyes.
And then I did what I shouldn’t have done.
I sucked my finger clean.
Her slick.
Her taste. f*****g heaven and sin and everything in between.
She whimpered like I’d slapped her.
Eyes fluttering. Lips trembling.
I stepped back.
Calling Me Sir Wort Prote
Just barely.
My voice dropped to a near-growl.
“Get inside,”
I said again.
“Before I throw you over my shoulder, carry you in, and make you watch yourself in the mirror while I ruin that sweet little p***y”
She still didn’t move.
So I leaned close-one last time-until her lips were inches from mine.
“You’ve got ten seconds, Lyra,”
I warned, every word soaked in threat.
“Ten seconds to run. Or I swear to f*****g God, I’ll bend you over that couch and f**k you until your voice breaks screaming Daddy.”
And this time?
She moved.
Slowly.
Like her legs were jelly.
Like her body was betraying her every step of the way.
She opened the door.
Stumbled inside.
And as the door clicked shut behind her..
I knew.
I wasn’t going to make it through the day without getting her off my mind. f**k. I need to jerk off.
…
The Alpha’s Desires
The Alpha’s Desire is
**DAMON**
I barely made it to the car.
My hand was shaking when I grabbed the handle, not from fear, not from adrenaline, but from the kind of fury only lust can cause.
The kind of ache that builds deep in the balls and climbs up the spine like a f*****g fire you can’t put out.
I yanked the door open and dropped into the seat with a snarl in my throat and a pulse hammering between my legs so hard it made my vision blur.
The door slammed behind me. The air was thick. I could still smell her on me. That scent. Sweet. Slick. Addictive. Her heat was burned into my skin. The sound of her voice still echoing through my head.
Sir. f**k.
I gripped the steering wheel with both hands. My knuckles went white. My jaw clenched so tight it felt like my teeth would crack.
I was supposed to be on my way to a council meeting. I was supposed to be calm. Focused. Alpha of this pack. In control.
But I was none of those things.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.