by Hettie Ivers
I bit my lip to stifle the nonsensical apology poised on the tip of my tongue.
“You are the embodiment of everything I should never have been gifted with, Milena,” he charged, gradually slinking closer to where I remained glued to the stone wall, as still as a trembling statue could be.
“You’re right that you don’t belong with someone like me,” he conceded. “I’ve done nothing remotely good enough in my long lifetime to deserve you as a mate.” His words became a plaintive whisper as he approached. “And yet there you were, a perfect angel before me, delivered right to my doorstep in the cruelest of fashions. And you despised me. At first sight. With every fiber of your being.”
Butterflies assailed my belly as his fingertips made contact with my hair, stroking tentatively, as if testing their ability to be gentle, before securing a riotous lock behind my ear. He was close now. So close. Caging me in against the wall.
His form blocked most of the light, and yet not enough to obscure the unguarded, ineffable suffering I saw in his eyes. I should’ve looked away. I didn’t.
“You identified me as a monster. You feared I would rape you, as you lay wounded on my basement floor. You were so sure I intended to kill you—even after I’d healed you! And I had only myself to blame. Because I continued to be so cruel, so horribly vicious to you—even while you sobbed and begged me to stop.”
I needed to end this. The sharing. The self-loathing. His pain. My pain. It was fast becoming one and the same. And it was torture.
“But I couldn’t. Fuck, I just couldn’t stop!” he professed. “In part because I was so starved, so desperate to absorb every measly shred of insight I possibly could from your mind. But also because the better part of me wanted for you to hate me every bit as much as I hated myself in that moment.
“Alcaeus was right. It was my poetic justice to be forever beholden to a mate who could never love me. But it was also your only hope of salvation.” His throaty laugh was weak, and so bitter. “Because, believe me, ultimately nothing good ever befalls anyone who truly loves me. For your own sake, the more goodness and purity I found within you, the more I prayed you’d forever despise me.”
With every word he spoke, I felt my flimsy resolve disintegrating, withering to nothing. I couldn’t do this. Had to stop. I needed to look away from those imploring black eyes. He was the worst sort of kindling. He would burn and consume me. There’d be nothing left of me when he was done.
His fingers found their way to my face, slanting and holding it captive, as if he’d read the direction of my thoughts and intended to seal off any fragile chance I had of escape.
“Unfortunately for you, I am not very religious. And I never actually prayed very long or hard for you to despise me. If at all,” he mumbled under his breath. “Because, as you know, I’m also terribly spoiled, and unerringly selfish. Regardless of whether or not I deserve you, Milena, I want you. I need you. And I intend to have you. Always.”
Cue heart failure.
“I thought I could stop this for your sake. But I can’t.” His fingertips traced my cheek. “I thought maybe I could get you out of my system. But I won’t. It wasn’t your blood inheritance that made me want you for my mate. But it was that inheritance that gave me hope that you might actually survive being mine. That you could love me back and not be forever cursed or mortally harmed for it. Right or wrong, the fates delivered you to me, Milena. And I am far from noble or honorable enough a man to simply let you go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
My head shook from side to side within his grasp without my even thinking about it. Perhaps it was out of fear, or maybe just force of habit. But I cringed as I felt the fury surging within Alex in response to what he perceived to be my ongoing denial of our bond.
“I’m sorry—”
“Stop saying that!” His palms slammed flat against the stone wall on either side of my head. I winced as small fragments of stone and mortar crumbled to the ground.
His voice was calmer, and yet still somewhat menacing as he said, “I don’t want your sorry. I don’t want your condolences or your pity over my childhood. And I don’t want to hear any more of your halfhearted apologies or rationalizations about not being able to choose me or accept me as your mate. Understand?”
I jerked my head in an imitation of a nod—not wanting to incense him further.
“Do you know what it is I want right now?” His head canted to the side as his eyes canvassed me. “At this exact moment?”
I shook my head.
“Would you like to know?”
Would I? He bent closer, until the heat of his breath fanned my ear. “I want you,” he whispered. “Naked. Bent over that barrel behind me. I want your legs wrapped around my waist as I fuck you against this wall.” His words were spoken softly, delivered gently, despite the lewdness they conveyed.
“I want to mount you from behind on all fours right here on the ground, sink my dick inside of you again and again, and come deep within your womb, over and over, until my balls finally stop aching.”
Resounding silence descended upon me as an avalanche of heat flooded the fluttering cleft between my thighs. My ears began to ring for the amount of blood coursing through my veins, so much so that I wondered for a moment if Alex was still talking and I’d simply stopped hearing altogether.
But then I heard him ask, “Would you like that? Would you let me?”
When I burned crimson and managed only a squeaking noise in reply, he pressed a forefinger to my lips.
“Shh-shh … I know, I know,” he hushed. “You can’t—won’t—give me that. Certainly not now that your heat cycle has passed.” He pulled back and I could tell he’d barely managed to stifle a smirk at what could only have been a tomato-red coloring stealing over my skin for how hot I felt.
“But that’s what I want,” he confessed. “All of you. And more. Because I’ll never be satisfied until I am fully entrenched inside of your mind, hearing your every thought, inside your heart, dominating your every emotion, while my canines pierce your sweet flesh and my cock fills every hot, tight inch of you.”
He paused to study me again as I fought in vain to draw air into my lungs, before coolly inquiring, “Would you let me do that, princess? Would you allow me to fill every last intimate part of you?”
I had no words. I was barely managing the task of breathing.
“In the interim, for what it’s worth”—his dark eyes twinkled mischievously, and I knew he was enjoying the responses his pornographic suggestions induced in me—“I’ll settle for you on your knees right now, those perfect pink lips wrapped around me, sucking me until I explode all my pent-up frustration down the back of your throat.”
Vaguely, it registered that he was caressing said throat now. I was definitely going to pass out. His thumb traced my clavicle as his lips brushed my cheek.
“Would you let me?” he parroted in my ear in the same playful, seductive tone. “Would you tease me with your sweet tongue and let me come inside your pretty mouth, princess?”
His lips skated over the shell of my ear. “Would you swallow every last drop of my frustration if I asked you to? Would you lick me clean as I grew hard enough to fuck your mouth all over again?”
My knees were so unsteady they were barely holding me up anymore. So when something inside of me splintered apart at his coarse words, it seemed perfectly natural to just allow myself to collapse to my knees on the dirt floor. He was already lifting me back up again by my elbows—having misinterpreted my fall—by the time I found the voice to stop him.
“No.” I latched onto the waistband of his shorts to anchor myself as my eyes raised to his. “I would. I will. I … want to …” I fumbled for words as my fingers began to fumble with the zipper and button closure of his pants. “To … do it … to take care of you … with my mouth …”
His eyes widened and his hands closed over mine before removing them from the clasp of his shorts and taking a step back. “Milena,” he e
xhaled, breathing hard. “Fuck, I was teasing. You shouldn’t … you don’t have to—”
“Please?” I interrupted, leaning forward on my knees and reaching out for him. I boldly ran my hands up the insides of his legs, underneath his shorts, stroking the large, defined muscles of his inner and then outer thighs lightly with my fingertips before trailing them back along his hamstrings. “I want to. Can’t I try? Please?”
His eyes squeezed shut above me. “Oh, fuck … fuck …” He said no more to dissuade me after that as he practically tore the clasp and zipper of his own shorts off.
I removed my hands from his thighs and knew a moment of paralyzing panic as his shorts dropped to his ankles and his thick stalk sprang proud and free before me.
I chanced a peek up at him and found his eyes scorching down upon me with unbridled lust as he fisted the base of his huge erection, stroking the length of himself slowly and surely. He kicked his shorts aside and stepped closer, lining his dark, bulbous cockhead up with my awaiting mouth. At first I just stared, dumbstruck and unsure of what to do, my eyes riveted on the pre-cum leaking from the slit of the massive mushroom head facing me.
I swallowed. “I’ve never—”
“Lick it.”
It was a simple instruction, delivered with enough gentleness to almost, but not quite, mask the desperate urgency of what another part of me recognized to be a deeply voiced Alpha command trying not to sound like an Alpha command.
“Please?” His fingers delved into the hair at the back of my head, simultaneously massaging my scalp in a reassuring caress, while guiding my mouth inexorably closer to its intended target.
Oh, fuck it all, this was really happening!
“Just lick it,” he rasped, his voice strained. “You can’t do it wrong. Promise.”
I poked my tongue out just as he brought the fat tip to my lips, and licked him with the flat of my tongue from the underside of his head up and over his slit, swirling my tongue carefully in order to capture the small amount of fluid offered. And I was somewhat surprised to find that he tasted … fine. Strangely appealing even. So yummy, in fact, that I shamelessly licked over the slit again to be sure I’d gotten it all. He groaned and tightened his grip on the hair at the back of my head, nudging me closer.
“Ah … God! That’s it. Good girl … soo good … don’t stop. Just like that … keep licking …”
He pressed forward on the next lick while holding my head in place, pushing his entire cockhead into my mouth.
“Mm-mmm … that’s it … put your lips around me, and suck, angel … suck me all the way into your mouth,” he grunted. “So good … so fucking good …”
Encouraged and fascinated by his responses, I ran the tip of my tongue along the rim of his big head as I sucked it all the way inside my mouth. Then I continued to swirl my tongue all around it while I sealed my lips over his smooth, hard shaft.
His deep growl of approval was its own reward as he pulled my hair a little, keeping opposing pressure on the back of my head as he tilted his hips forward, urging me to take more of him. I swirled my tongue again and sucked him deeper into my mouth.
“Fuck … fuuuck! That’s it … relax your jaw, baby … ahh, God … open up and take a little more …” he coaxed. “Good princess … nice and slow … that’s it … all the way … deep and slow …”
My hands had begun to wander idly up and down the backs of his thighs as I explored him with my mouth. When I dragged them around and up the front of his thighs, he caught them with his own, guiding one to his balls and the other to the base of his penis, and proceeded to show me exactly how he wanted me to touch him.
Already beyond enthralled, I became an eager pupil as through nonverbal instruction and a series of directives interspersed with animalistic noises, he taught me to cup and stroke his heavy balls. Hesitant at first, I soon found them such an intriguing tactile phenomenon that I didn’t want to stop fondling them. Wrapping my other hand around the base of his penis, he guided it in a twisting, rotating motion over the remaining generous expanse of his thick shaft that I knew I would likely never be able to fit inside of my mouth without choking.
“Ah, baby, just like that … so good … you’re so good,” he praised. “Keep going … don’t stop … you’re doing so well … fuck, fuck … such a good mouth …” He growled as his hips began to thrust slightly, shunting rhythmically back and forth, the action pushing his length farther toward the back of my throat each time.
His hand fisted in my hair, tugging lightly as he repeatedly drove himself forward. The fingers of his other hand stroked my jaw and neck, encouraging me to relax and take more of him. “Deeper, baby,” he finally gritted, pressing against the back of my head as he shoved all the way into the back of my throat, activating my gag reflex.
“Relax,” he commanded, before adding a quick, “please, princess? Take more. Don’t stop,” he begged as I started to move faster, working as much of him as I could possibly take all the way to the very back of my throat like he wanted and then almost all of the way out of my mouth again.
He muttered apologies whenever he pulled my hair a bit roughly or thrust too aggressively. And as much as I sensed he was working to maintain control over himself and let me take the lead as I learned him, there was little doubt as to who was directing things. I didn’t mind though.
Though this was my first blow job, I was captivated; utterly enchanted to find it such a natural experience. I’d often feared I would lack skill at it when the time came, but it seemed to be more of a fluid, organic act, enabling me to rely upon instinct more than learned ability.
I recalled Bethany telling me once that there were few greater turn-ons for a man than a woman who legitimately got off on sucking him off. I’d never understood what she’d meant by that, as I’d not been able to fathom how a woman might get aroused by attending to a man this way. But I sure got it now.
It was irrefutably erotic, an unparalleled turn-on, knowing that Alex was unreservedly trusting me with his most sensitive, vulnerable organ. And it made me feel more and more powerful as I absorbed his body’s reactions, as I felt his hips jerking into me, his muscles twitching and shuddering, feeling the vibration of him inside my mouth when he grunted and snarled, progressively losing his composure.
My own body was on fire, my inner thighs drenched with the steady flow of my arousal—the heart of my need throbbing so intensely that I’d started to wonder if I might come before Alex did, without even being touched at all.
Lost to the tidal wave of my own mounting desire, I barely noticed when Alex began to swear profusely above me as he clutched at my head, his fingers digging in as he rocked into my enthusiastic mouth. I continued to bob up and down, back and forth along his formidable prick, humming my satisfaction, sucking and swirling my tongue all along the way, scraping him against the ridged roof of my mouth and even teasing him ever so carefully across my front teeth.
When I at last managed a dazed look up at him, I found that his eyes were pitch black; wild, dark flames crackling in their depths. They appeared unseeing as they stared down at me, and yet they were so hungry, so possessive, that I almost lost my newfound, novice rhythm.
“You’re wet.”
Huh? I allowed my brow to furrow. Of course my mouth was wet.
“So. Fucking. Wet.” He said it like an accusation. I was even more confused. I fought to sustain my rhythm.
“Not fucking fair.” He sounded angry. What the hell?
“Need to come inside your head,” he growled like a mad caveman.
Uh … yea-ah … wasn’t that kinda sorta the ultimate goal at the end of this process?
Even I knew that! Did he think I wasn’t going to let him come in my mouth when the time came? Reducing Alex to panting and begging as he jerked himself to a desperate completion and came in a rush of heated bliss inside the warm, wet recess of my mouth was pretty much the part I was most looking forward to now, in fact.
He shook his head and
mumbled something about me not getting it. “You are gushing, baby,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “So fucking hot,” he declared, the air bursting from his lungs.
“I can smell you … dripping sweet cream down your thighs, all from sucking on my cock,” he crudely assessed. Followed by an epiphanous, “Ah, Jesus … fuck me, you really are my mate!” As if the way I’d taken to giving him head had unequivocally cinched it—eliminating any remaining shadow of a doubt that might’ve otherwise prevailed. Typical.
“I need inside your head, baby. Your mind,” he clarified “Please?” His fingers skimmed affectionately down the side of my cheek in silent supplication. “I’ll fucking die if I can’t know every sweet, dirty thought that’s running through your perfectly innocent head right now to make you so fucking wet. Please? Please let me back in?”
I was still trying to process the full meaning of his request, when he slipped his thumb inside the corner of my mouth on my next pass, and broke the suction I had on his member. Swearing, he ignored my whine of dissent as he gripped the roots of my hair and forced my mouth off of him.
“I don’t want to stop,” I protested through swollen lips.
“Then let me in,” he demanded, followed by a more tender, “I won’t hurt you. I swear it. I won’t do anything you don’t like or invade memories you aren’t willing to share. I only want to get closer to you—to make you feel good while you’re making me feel so fucking amazing. Trust me, Milena?”
He was giving me his best, most innocent choirboy-lost-in-the-mall eyes. “Please? I promise to be good and play nice.”
I knew I’d probably live to regret it, but I didn’t have the willpower to say no to him in that moment. I realized he needed this. He craved control, yes, but more than that, he yearned for intimacy. Connection. He wanted my trust.
He was a powerful Alpha. But he was also a lost, damaged little boy. One who had broken most of his toys, set fire to Alcaeus’ home, and torn apart his own nanny for unwittingly killing his mommy. He was a ruthless destroyer—begging me to trust him to be good and play nice.