Artemis
The heat swallowed everything.
Time. Thought. Identity. All of it burned away until there was nothing left but need—vast and consuming, an ocean of want that I was drowning in. My body wasn't mine anymore. It belonged to the fire, to the emptiness screaming to be filled, to the desperate ache that pulsed through every nerve ending like a second heartbeat.
Alpha.
I needed my Alpha.
"I'm here." Harper's voice cut through the haze, rough and strained but steady as bedrock. Anchor. Lifeline. The only solid thing in a world that had dissolved into sensation and need. "I'm right here, sweetheart. I've got you."
His massive body covered mine, pressing me down into the nest, and I keened at the contact—skin against skin, finally, his shirt gone somewhere between one breath and the next. The heat of him was overwhelming, his chest a wall of muscle against my aching breasts, coarse hair scraping deliciously against myswollen nipples. His weight pinned me in place, solid and immovable, and I should have felt trapped. Instead, I felt safe.
"Alpha," I whimpered, the word torn from somewhere deep and primal, from the omega that had risen to the surface and taken control. My hands clawed at his back, nails raking across the thick muscle, leaving red lines in their wake as I tried to pull him closer even though there was no closer to get. "Please. Please, I need—I can't—it's so empty?—"
"I know." His lips found my throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my fluttering pulse, his beard scraping against my sensitive skin and making me shiver. His hips settled between my thighs, spreading them wide, and I could feel him there—thick and hard and straining against his jeans, the rough denim rubbing against my bare, slick-soaked center. "I know what you need, sweetheart. I'm going to give it to you. Going to take care of you. Just let me—let me make this good for you first."
First. Before. He wanted to?—
His mouth moved down.
I sobbed as his lips trailed fire across my collarbone, pausing to suck a mark into the sensitive hollow of my throat. Down over the swell of my breast, his beard leaving trails of delicious friction. When he reached my nipple—already hard, already aching, straining toward him like it had a mind of its own—and closed his mouth over it, the sensation was so intense I screamed.
Not pain. Pleasure so sharp it felt like dying, like every nerve in my body had been rewired to feed directly into that one point of contact. His tongue was hot and wet, circling the tight peak before flicking across it with devastating precision. Then he sucked—hard, rhythmic pulls that seemed directly connected to my core—and I felt slick gush between my thighs in response.
"So sensitive," Harper growled against my breast, the vibration buzzing through my flesh and making me writhebeneath him. His gray eyes flicked up to meet mine, dark and hungry and full of wonder. "So fucking beautiful like this. Been wanting to taste you for weeks. Been dreaming about having you under me, making these sounds for me."
His mouth moved to my other breast, lavishing it with the same devastating attention—tongue circling, teeth grazing, lips sucking until the nipple was swollen and flushed and achingly sensitive. His hand came up to cup the breast he'd abandoned, rough palm engulfing the soft flesh, thumb rolling over the wet peak and making me cry out. The dual sensation was too much and not enough. I could feel myself clenching around nothing, inner walls fluttering desperately, empty and aching in a way that bordered on painful. Slick flooded between my thighs in a hot rush, soaking into the blankets beneath me, filling the nest with the thick, sweet scent of omega arousal.
"Alpha," I begged, my voice cracking on the word, my hips rolling up against nothing, seeking friction that wasn't there. "Please. Inside. Need you inside me. Need to be full. Please, please?—"
"Soon," he promised, kissing his way down my stomach, his lips and tongue and beard leaving trails of sensation across my quivering muscles. Each press of his mouth made goosebumps race across my skin. "Let me taste you first. Need to taste you. Been thinking about it since I walked inside smelling you in preheat.”
He settled between my thighs, his broad shoulders spreading them impossibly wide, the stretch in my hips somehow adding to the pleasure building in my core. I felt his breath hot and damp against my center—I was bare now, underwear gone somewhere in the haze, and I didn't care, couldn't care about anything except the way he was looking at me.
His gray eyes had gone almost black, pupils swallowing the iris as he stared at my most intimate place. I was swollen andglistening, flushed pink with arousal, slick coating my folds and my inner thighs and probably his sheets. I should have felt embarrassed, exposed, vulnerable. Instead, I felt powerful. Wanted. Worshipped.
"Fuck," he breathed, the word reverent, almost prayerful. One thick finger traced through my folds, gathering slick, and I watched him bring it to his mouth and suck it clean. His eyes fluttered closed, a groan rumbling from deep in his chest. "You taste like— Fuck, Artemis. Like honey and apples. Like I could get drunk on you."
Then his mouth descended, and I shattered. The first touch of his tongue was like lightning striking—a broad, flat stroke from my entrance to my clit that made my whole body convulse. He groaned against me at the taste, the sound vibrating through my sensitive flesh, and I keened in response, my hands flying down to tangle in his dark hair.
He licked into me like a man starving, like I was the first real meal he'd had in years, like nothing in the world existed except the taste of me on his tongue. His mouth was hot and wet and relentless, tongue delving deep before dragging up to circle my clit with maddening precision. He learned what made me moan—slow circles, steady pressure. What made me scream—quick flicks, directly on the swollen bundle of nerves. What made slick gush against his chin—his tongue pressing inside me, fucking into my entrance while his nose nudged my clit.
"More," I gasped, my fingers tightening in his hair, torn between pushing him away because it was too much and pulling him closer because it would never be enough. "Please, more,Alpha, please?—"
He gave me more.
Two thick fingers pressed against my entrance, and I sobbed with relief as they sank inside—finally, finally something to clench around, something to fill the aching emptiness evenpartially. The stretch was perfect, his fingers so much bigger than my own, spreading my inner walls as they pushed deeper. He curled them forward, that made lightning shoot up my spine—and rubbed in slow, firm circles while his mouth never stopped working my clit.
The orgasm crashed over me without warning—a wave of white-hot pleasure that ripped through my body and tore a scream from my throat. His name, his real name, Harper Harper Harper, mixed with Alpha and please and don't stop and more. I could feel myself clamping down on his fingers, inner walls spasming, could feel slick flooding his hand and his chin and the blankets beneath me. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on me, of his fingers inside me, filled the nest.
He didn't stop.
His fingers kept moving, curling and pressing and stroking. His tongue kept circling, kept flicking, kept driving me higher. The orgasm didn't end, wave after wave rolling through me until I thought I might die from the pleasure of it. My thighs clamped around his head, my back arched off the nest, my hands pulled at his hair, and still he didn't stop.
When it finally faded, I was trembling and gasping, tears streaming down my temples and into my hair. My whole body felt wrung out, oversensitized, every nerve ending singing.
"Good girl." Harper's voice was rough as gravel, wrecked in a way I'd never heard from him—the usually controlled Head Alpha absolutely destroyed by the taste of me. He pressed one last kiss to my oversensitive clit, making me twitch and whimper, before crawling back up my body. His face was wet with me, chin and cheeks glistening with slick, his lips swollen and shining. His gray eyes were nearly black with want, but there was something soft there too—wonder, maybe. Reverence. "That's my good omega. Came so pretty for me. So perfect."
