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He grinned at me.
“Fuck you,” I said.
“Fuck you,” he said, putting his hand on my crotch. “Let go, Devlin,” he breathed. His alpha was all around me, pressure all over, pushing on my alpha, which didn’t want this, couldn’t want this, because I had to prove to him—to me—to the whole of Angleford—that I was worthy of being the heir to the throne. But no matter how hard I tried, it was as if I always came up wanting, as if I was always, always defective.
Sinclair was defectiveness personified.
I couldn’t let him have control of me. With him in control, we’d combust.
And I would have fought, really, I would have, except I was already practically dry-humping him at this point, and I was so confused.
So, when his alpha rushed into me, there was a moment—only a moment—of hesitation, and that was all it took.
I whined.
“Good,” he breathed, under me, rubbing his thigh against my cock. “See, it’s nice.”
My chin went against my chest, exposing my neck. My hand at his throat went limp.
He tugged me down, his teeth grazing the nape of my neck, taking control of me.
I felt it all through me, a spark of something like violence, something like chaos, something too good for words, the madness that was Sinclair Doyle overtaking every aspect of me.
I whimpered.
He petted the back of my head, tucking me against his chest.
I sagged into him. I had just been fucking mastered by Sinclair, and that… that wasn’t… I didn’t even think Sinclair could master someone. He wasn’t that kind of alpha.
But it was nice.
He wasn’t wrong about that. I felt free. Entirely untethered. There was this part of me that weighed me down all the time. It was my devotion to responsibility and duty. It was the expectations that were constantly on my shoulders.
And all of that?
Gone.
He kissed me. First my temple, sloppily, and then I tilted my face up to him and he kissed my mouth.
People were filming us, I realized.
I didn’t care.
He broke the kiss, looking into my eyes. “This, uh, this is… wow.”
I nodded. I’d never felt it before, but it was the most freeing thing I’d ever experienced in my life. I gave him a slow, easy grin. “What now, alpha?” I was teasing him.
“Now…” He shrugged, grinning back, feeding off the ease of me. I always fought this with him, I realized, even as I craved it. He had something that I wanted, something that I could never quite get, but I couldn’t admit to myself that I wanted it. How fucked up was that?
I’d been attracted to him because he was everything I wasn’t. He was irresponsible and wild. He was bad when I was doing everything in my power to be good. He didn’t care when I agonized over getting it right. He was gleeful about throwing himself into danger when I wanted to be safe.
I wanted to fuck him because part of me wanted to be him, even as another part of me rejected him as everything I wasn’t.
I’d always wanted this, though. An evening with Sinclair was an evening to pretend everything that bothered me wasn’t real, but it always came back, and I always fought it. But this, Sinclair in charge of me, it was the erasure of all my troubles, true escape.
“Now, shots,” he said, pulling me to my feet.
“Shots,” I said.
