The Alpha’s Surrogate: A Paranormal Romance (Shifter Surrogate Agency Book 3)

by Layla Silver

  I took a half-step back, sucking a quick kiss to one nipple and drawing a needy cry from her as I slid down her body to my knees. My own clothes were tormentingly tight, but I ignored the pressure, focusing solely on her pleasure, instead. Plucking open the fasteners of her jeans, I hooked my fingers under the waistband of her jeans and panties and dragged them down. I felt her hands drop to my shoulders for balance as I tugged the fabric free of her ankles.

  Instead of standing, however, I slid my hands up her calves, behind her knees and around to the front of her thighs. Nuzzling a kiss to her hip bone, I nudged her thighs apart.

  “Oh,” she gasped, her muscles clenching in anticipation as she realized my intent. “Oh, Nathan, please.”

  I hummed my approval and ducked my head. She smelled divine, and I refused to rush. Using the flat of my tongue, I swiped a slow, lazy lick along her folds. She was soaking wet, and the touch sent a shudder all the way down her body. Enraptured, I did it again, stroking my tongue between her folds this time, lapping up the taste of her but staying well away from her clit.

  Celeste gave a low cry and thrust against my face, wordlessly demanding more. Laughing outright, I braced her hips against the wall with my hands and applied myself diligently to her pleasure. I moved my hands from her hips only once, so that I could use my thumbs to splay her open, giving me better access to thrust my tongue inside her until she was writhing and babbling, and endless streams of incoherent need were pouring off her tongue. When her thighs started to tremble non-stop, I finally switched my attention to her clit. It was swollen and hard, and I flicked my tongue over the tip fast but feather-light, making sure the touch was never quite hard enough to give her the release she was chasing.

  “Nathan!”

  My name was a demand, and I gladly obliged, working one finger inside her sopping pussy. Celly wailed, her inner muscles clamping down on it, desperate for the sensation of being filled. She was so close now. Working a second finger in alongside the first, I twisted them inside her tight heat, stroking the pads of my fingers right where I knew she needed them. Then I closed my lips around her clit and sucked with just the right amount of pressure. Celly shrieked, her inner muscles convulsing around my fingers as she came.

  The sound was electrifying, and the ache at the base of my spine pulsed too hard to be ignored any longer. I kept my body angled into hers as I pushed to my feet, knowing from experience that she wouldn’t be able to keep herself upright just yet. She stared up at me, dazed and panting, as I yanked my belt open and shoved my pants down. My erection sprang free, bobbing toward my flat stomach, the tip already smeared with sticky evidence of my raging desire.

  Sliding my hands down her sides, I hooked them under her thighs. It took nothing to lift her, and her arms wrapped around my neck as I hiked her up the wall. For a moment, I held her there, running my cock along her slit to coat it in her slick. Then I repositioned, pressing the tip of my length against her opening.

  “Look at me, Celeste.” The effort of holding still, holding back my need, made the words come out in a low growl. She smiled, her face transforming into that cheeky, impertinent look that told me she knew exactly what she was doing to me. Her eyes met mine, and our gazes stayed locked as I slowly pushed inside her. Every inch felt like coming home, becoming whole again.

  She was trembling again by the time I fully sheathed myself inside her.

  “You okay?” I asked, brushing a kiss along her jaw.

  “Yeah,” she breathed. Then she rolled her hips, the satin glide of her over my hypersensitive shaft, making my body clench.

  “Tease.” I grazed her jaw with my teeth, and her breath hitched.

  “So do something about it.”

  I muffled the wicked chuckle that bubbled out of my chest in her shoulder. “Maybe I will.”

  Adjusting my grip on her hips as she locked her legs around me, I started to thrust. I kept my pace painfully slow, relishing the feel of her tight around me and the pleasure of sinking in deep every time. Celeste’s head dropped forward, and her grip tightened. She murmured wordlessly into my shoulder as I took her, clinging tightly as her control started to fray again.

  “I thought of you.” Any inhibitions I had were long since gone, and I scattered kisses across her skin between my words. “Every time I touched myself. Since I left. Always you, Celly.”

  She whimpered into my shoulder, curling tighter around me as I thrust again, burying myself deep. I stifled a growl of frustration as I felt my own control start to slip. Tasting her and watching her come had left me too wired. I wasn’t going to last nearly as long as I wanted.

  “I missed this.” I braced us both against the wall and gave in to the need to speed up my pace, my breath going ragged from the intensity of it. “I missed you, baby.”

  Words weren’t enough. They would never be enough to make her understand how badly I needed her.

  “Nathan,” she gasped, wriggling against me. “Up. A—a little more.”

  I complied, understanding the muddled request. I changed the angle of my body, and she keened in my ear as the new position let me grind against her clit with every thrust. She would climax again if I could hold out just a little longer.

  “There,” she gasped, throwing her head back. “Oh!”

  Her body bore down on mine again, and my hips stuttered, the pressure inside me reaching its tipping point. I dropped my head, burying my face in the curve of her shoulder, and let the rush of release consume me. I spent myself inside her in hot, shuddering spurts that left my head swimming and my entire body suffused with bone-deep quiet. At that moment, everything was right with my world.

  Chapter 10 - Celeste

  Every inch of my body was glowing with heat and the shimmering haze of giddy, endorphin-soaked satisfaction. I felt as though my bones had liquified and every muscle turned to jelly; there wasn’t an ounce of tension anywhere. I drifted in the bliss of it, content.

  “Celly.”

  The sound of my name broke through my post-coital fog. Something cold and terrible slipped in with it, coiling around my heart. For a moment, I didn’t move, just sucked in a breath and tried to right my head.

  I was wrapped around Nathan’s hard-muscled body, my back against the wall, his softening cock still inside me. My body burned with the after-shocks of a hard climax, and I felt raw and sticky all over as the sweat on my skin began to cool.

  A ball of ice began to form in my stomach as realization set in. I’d had sex with Nathan. Incredible, mind-blowing sex that I absolutely should not have had. Panic welled up inside me, humiliation and fury hot on its heels. This couldn’t be happening. I’d promised—he’d promised.

  “Get out.”

  Nathan rubbed his cheek against my jaw, clearly half-dazed himself. “Hmm?”

  “Get out!” I pushed at him, shoving with arms and legs, suddenly desperate to get away.

  “Celly?” He fumbled as he slipped out of me and tried to release his hold without outright dropping me.

  The instant my feet touched the cold wood of the floor, I scrambled away on rubbery legs. Damn it. My clothes were everywhere. I shook off my bra, which was hanging by a single strap off one arm, and grabbed for my shirt.

  “We weren’t going to do this!” I yelled, fighting back a fresh wave of infuriating tears.

  I dragged my shirt over my head and snatched up my jeans. I choked on self-loathing as I pulled my panties on. I’d been explicitly clear that this was professional only. We’d both agreed—and then Nathan had touched me. One stupid, simple touch, and I’d let him blow right through every one of my carefully drawn boundaries. Five years. Five years I’d kept my distance and protected my heart, and one kiss had destroyed all the walls I’d worked so hard to build.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Celly.” Nathan’s fingers were clumsy on his jeans, and I refused to look at his perfectly toned abs and the muscled expanse of his chest. It didn’t matter that his arms had felt safe, or that hav
ing him inside me was the first time in years that I didn’t feel like a piece of me was missing. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  “No!” I cut off whatever he was about to say and yanked up my own jeans as if being clothed could distance or protect me from the mess I’d made. “Get out.”

  “Baby.” He hovered by the wall where I’d left him, his hands out to the sides like he wanted to reach for me but didn’t dare.

  The utterly lost and devastated look on his face was like a blade twisting in my heart, but I didn’t back down. Fury and shame were the only things keeping me on my feet, and I clutched at them desperately.

  “I’m not doing this with you again,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “This was a mistake, and it’s never happening again. I don’t want you here. Not now, not ever. Get out of my house and leave me alone!”

  For a few long heartbeats, he stared at me, unmoving. All the color drained from his face, and he looked like I’d bludgeoned him. Then, very slowly, he righted the rest of his clothing. Raising his hands back out to the sides slightly, he circled around me, keeping his distance as he moved toward the door, as though I were rabid and likely to attack if he stepped too close. His eyes never left mine, their green depths wells of misery.

  His hand on the doorknob, he tried one more time. “Celeste.”

  “Get. Out.” It came out as a growling snap.

  His eyes broke from mine, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. I leaped for it, slamming the deadbolt into place. Then I slid to the ground and sobbed.

  Eventually, there were no more tears. Exhausted and hollow, I made myself get up. Moving made me realize how disgusting I felt. The dried sweat on my skin made me feel cold, and my thighs were tacky against my jeans where Nathan’s spend had dripped out of me. Trudging upstairs, I stripped off all my clothing and threw everything in the hamper.

  Twisting the knob in the shower, I set the water to nearly scalding and set about scrubbing the memory of Nathan’s touch off my skin. The terrible irony of it made me want to laugh. When Nathan disappeared, I’d bought the same brand of soap he always used, desperate to have some little piece of him to hold onto while I worried and tried to find out what was going on without giving myself away. I’d used it every day for the first week, still clinging to hope that there’d been some kind of misunderstanding. That he’d come back.

  I threw it out the day his postcard arrived.

  Shoving my face under the showerhead, I refused to start crying again. Erratic hormones or not, I would not waste another minute being distraught over Nathan Sloan.

  You made a mistake, I told myself, shutting off the water and reaching for a towel. So did he. It doesn’t change anything.

  Padding into my bedroom, I gathered my damp hair up on top of my head and secured it with a clip. Then I rummaged in the closet for yoga pants, a slouchy sweatshirt, and thick, fuzzy socks. My body ached pleasantly as I pulled them on, and I huffed in silent irritation. However much I had not intended to have sex with Nathan, there was no denying that it had been amazing. He’d made it his mission from the first day we were together to learn how to touch me. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten a single trick.

  My mind shied away from the eagerness with which he’d applied his tongue to making me come. I knew from pack gossip that wasn’t treatment many women got, but Nathan had never been shy about having his mouth on me. Heat started to build in my belly at the memories, but I shoved them away, resolutely heading downstairs.

  I stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. I spared a longing glance at the coffee maker, but I hadn’t had a chance to pick up decaf yet, and high-test was off the table for the next nine months. Turning off all the lights in the house, I tucked myself into my sewing studio, determined to take my mind off things with some work. Double-checking that the studio’s exterior entrance was also locked, I shut all the blinds and fished through my music selection for something calming and tranquilizing.

  Finally, I retrieved Katie’s wedding dress from the mannequin I was using to store it and carried it to the sewing machine. Fitting the fabric under the needle, I fell into the rhythm with the ease of years of practice. Unfortunately, my hands knew the work well enough that I didn’t have to think about it much. When my thoughts began to wander, they ran smack into Nathan.

  I’d believed him when he said he was willing to keep things between us professional, to put the past behind us. I was equally sure he’d meant it when he’d pinned me to the wall and whispered how much he’d missed me while he thrust inside me like he belonged there. I’d missed him, too.

  But the man whose baby I now carried wasn’t the same boy I’d lost. That Nathan—the one I’d trusted with my life, my heart—had vanished. Disappeared like a ghost in the middle of a perfectly ordinary week without so much as a word. Part of me had been lost with him.

  The man who’d come back was a good Alpha, and he’d be a great father. But he couldn’t be my mate. I couldn’t risk my heart again. I still didn’t know how I’d survived the first time. If I let myself love him again only to lose him a second time, I knew I’d never recover.

  Pulling the fabric free of the machine, I carried the gown to the over-sized ironing board to press the seams. Steam hissed as I moved the iron steadily over the fabric, mentally cataloging everything I’d lost the day he’d left.

  I’d lost my dreams of the home we were going to build together and the pups we’d have. My faith in other people to take care of me, to have my back when I needed them. My confidence in myself as a desirable mate had been shattered. Though it had never been his intent, Nathan had shaped me into who I was today when he’d slammed the door on our life together and taken off to the far reaches of the globe.

  Returning to the sewing machine, I thought of the paperwork Dr. Carlton had given me. The highlighted number for the agency’s counseling department.

  You should call, I told myself, pressing the foot pedal down to start the sewing machine again. What happened with Nathan couldn’t happen again, but neither could I cut him out of my life as I had before. He was going to raise our child. For the baby’s sake, if nothing else, I needed to put this behind me—properly, this time.

  Tomorrow, I promised myself. Tomorrow I’d call. I’d talk to someone as many times as it took to convince myself that I did not love Nathan Sloan and that we were completely and unequivocally just friends.

  Chapter 11 – Nathan

  Tossing the letter on my desk, I cursed quietly.

  “Let me guess,” Micah drawled from where he lounged on the sofa. His feet were propped up on the table, his laptop in his lap, reports spread out around him. “Another letter from our good friend Kurt. Anything new?”

  “No,” I bit out. “Just the same copy-and-pasted crap about how he’s going to rip my throat out and steal my pack.”

  “Man just doesn’t know when to give up.” Micah shook his head then cocked it at me, his gray-blue eyes inquisitive. “He got the notice that you’re having a kid, right? Dad said they sent it a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Oh, he got it,” I groused, flopping into my chair and drumming my fingers irritably on the armrest. “He thinks it’s a lie. We can’t tell him who Celly—Celeste—is, for her own safety. And, since the Elders in their great wisdom,” I couldn’t keep the sourness out of my voice there, “won’t instate me as Alpha properly until the baby’s here, Kurt refuses to back off.”

  “Think he’ll try something in the next three months?” Micah asked, his expression going speculative.

  Three months. The baby would be here in three months. It felt like forever and no time at all. “Who the hell knows?” I blew out a breath. “This was supposed to fix everything, and I feel like it hasn’t improved anything at all.”

  His mouth twisted in sympathy. “Still no change with Celeste?”

  “No,” I snarled. “She won’t answer my calls, and she made it extremely clear that I’m not to go back to her house.” I scrubbed my
face with my hands. “I want her, Micah. She’s the only one I’ve ever wanted. I know I screwed up, but …” I spread my hands. “I’m trying. I came back. I’m cooperating with the damn Elders. I’m trying to respect her boundaries. I just—I just want her to give me another chance.”

  “I know,” he shook his head. “You’d have done better if you’d known how. Story of everyone’s life, man.”

  I sighed. He was right, of course. I was hardly the only person ever to screw up and lament it. But this was my life, and without Celeste, there was a giant, gaping hole in it. I’d told myself I was fine for five years. But the instant I’d touched her again, everything I’d buried had reignited, and nothing could quench the fire inside me.

  I ran myself ragged, hoping to get by through sheer distraction. I was taking parenting classes, and I’d overhauled the guest bedroom-turned-nursery in record time. There wasn’t an ounce of pack business I didn’t have nailed down, and I’d almost doubled our quarterly income with all the extra hours I’d put into the business. Everything in my life was thriving, except for the two things that mattered most: getting formally named Alpha so I could protect my pack and winning Celly back.

  The desire to simply pummel Kurt into the ground and get that disaster over with was overwhelming, but the Elders remained intractable. I suspected Gideon might actually have let me just to be done with the hassle, but the other two remained entrenched. Bastards. Until I was officially Alpha, though, there was nothing I could do. Defying them now, this close to my official instatement, could only end in even more disaster, and I couldn’t do that to my pack.

  As for Celeste, I tracked her appointments and the baby’s development via the agency’s tracking site fanatically, but that was as close as I got. I caught glimpses of her here and there in town, but she fastidiously kept her distance. I’d let myself get carried away in the heat of the moment and broken my promise to keep things professional, and it seemed she had no interest in forgiving me.