Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
“Please,” she begs.
Fuck.
I wrap my arm around the front of her hips to keep them from slamming against the hard counter, and then I drill into her like our lives depend on it. Maybe they do. I find one of her nipples with my free hand and squeeze and pinch it. “Baby,” I rasp. Being inside her is doing crazy things to me.
Nothing has ever felt so right. The need to satisfy her, to satisfy myself overwhelms me.
“Yes!” she whisper-shouts, eyes closed. The sight of her expression in the mirror as she’s about to orgasm sends me over the edge.
I hold in my roar as I fuck her hard and fast, shifting my hand between her legs to rub her clit. Her mouth opens in a silent “O,” and her muscles start squeezing around my dick. I slam in hard and stay, rubbing her clit and watching in the mirror as we both hurtle over the edge into ecstasy.
I throw my head back, but it rebounds and time blurs as I realize I’m about to mark my female. I manage to cover her shoulder with my palm right before I strike, driving my fangs into the back of my hand.
“Oh!” Colleen’s cry of dismay makes me pull out and step back.
She whirls, her nostrils flaring at the scent of my blood. Her eyes widen when she catches sight of my self-inflicted wounds. “Mark.”
“I’m sorry, baby. It happened so fast, I thought I had it under control.”
She grabs my hand and examines it, her brows knit. “You bit… yourself.”
“Well, yeah. I wasn’t going to bite you. Not without your permission.”
She’s gone stiff now. Tension shows in the set of her shoulders. “You can’t mark me. Not now, not ever.”
Colleen
Mark shows nothing outwardly, but I sense his pain like a sharp knife to the gut. I expect him to walk away. Or try to hurt me. Or do any of the normal things people do when you push them away, but instead he picks me up by the waist and sits me on the bathroom counter.
“Why not, babygirl?” He cages me between his arms, leaning his hands on the quartz.
I try to swallow around the lump in my throat. “I don’t want that.” I curse the quaver in my voice.
He cups both sides of my face, cradling it so gently I want to weep. Lowering his head to mine, he murmurs, “You know I’m your mate.”
Tears pop into my eyes. “I don’t know anything.” My lips tremble, inches from his.
“You’re lying.” It’s no more than a whisper. He’s trying to coax honesty out of me, but I just can’t give it. It’s not safe. Not for him, not for me, not for my pups.
I turn my face away, but he gently turns it back.
No one has ever held me so tenderly. Touched me with such reverence. The sex was incredible, but this? It guts me.
“Let me take care of you, babygirl.”
Babygirl. He called himself Daddy earlier after he spanked me. I don’t know anything about this dynamic, but both my body and my being respond like I’ve just found home.
Tears spill from my eyes. I’m crying because I can’t accept his offer, no matter how badly I want to. Not until I somehow get free from Dirk.
He thumbs away my tears. “Please.”
I duck my head and revert to what I know—showing deference to the alpha. “May I take a shower now?”
I sense his frown before I peek at it. He studies me for a moment, the corners of his mouth downturned. This is where I’m sure he’ll walk away, but he still doesn’t. He scoops me from the counter and carries me into the shower where he lowers me gently to my feet and begins to soap every inch of my body.
I whimper at the sweetness of it. The delicious caress. Having my mate naked in a small space with me. My legs tremble as he slides his hands up my inner thighs, stroking softly when he reaches the apex. He kisses between my legs, but doesn’t bring me to orgasm like he did at the pool last night. Instead, he continues the slow torture of worshipping my body.
“We don’t know each other, babygirl. But I know you’re mine. And I’m sure you know it, too. Let me in, sweetheart.”
“Please,” I weep. Because he’s killing me. Because I want to say yes so badly. I want to be his, to let him mark me, take care of me, call me babygirl and treat me with both passion and tenderness.
He stands and wraps his arms around me, sliding his fingers into the cleft of my ass, soaping my most intimate place. “I don’t believe you,” he says. When I search his gaze to understand what he doesn’t believe, he says, “I don’t believe you want me to stand down. But I will, babygirl. Because I need you to feel safe. I need you to know I’ll honor your wishes.” The entire time he speaks, he runs his fingers over my anus, sudsing between my cheeks.