My body bucks and twists against the hold, and another snarl rips from my throat, but the alpha doesn't budge. His hand shifts to my hip, pinning me in place. The raw, effortless strength of him sends a bolt of heat through me so intense my back arches off the floor.
Oh God.
He's strong.Reallystrong.
The kind of strong that could fold me in half and not break a sweat. The kind of strong that could hold me down and take exactly what he wants, and there's not a single thing I could do about it.
The thought makes me so wet I can barely breathe.
“Please,” I mewl as I reach for his belt.
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely find the buckle. I'm clawing at the leather, fingers slipping, and a frustrated whine builds in my chest because I can feel him, hard and straining against the denim. But there are too many layers and too many buckles, and the world is going to end if I don't get them off him in the next three seconds.
“It’s okay.” His hand covers mine. Steadies it. Then he flicks the belt open with one hand, and the button and zipper follow and then there's nothing left between us but heat and want and the slick mess I've made of us both.
He lifts his hips, and I brace myself.
I can feel the thick, hot head of his cock brush over the seam of my pussy, a teasing, devastating promise that makes my whole body clench with need. But instead of giving me what I need, Cliff’s grip on my hip softens.
His hand rises, and rough, calloused fingers brush carefully along my jaw.
He’s so gentle it makes my chest ache.
"Pretty little thing," he murmurs, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. His gaze moves over my face slowly, drinking me in, and for one still moment the frenzy pulls back like a tide, and it's just him looking at me. “Where did you come from?”
My mouth opens.
I want to tell him. I want to explain everything. That I work here, that I'm not supposed to be like this, that something is wrong with me and I don't know how to stop it.
The words are right there, stacked up inside my throat, and I can feel the shape of them on my tongue.
But what comes out is a shattered, airless whine as a cramp seizes me so hard I curl inward. My hands fly to my stomach and my knees pull up, and the pain rolls through me in a vicious, clenching wave that steals every scrap of breath I have.
Cliff goes still above me. He doesn't speak or move. He simply watches, his eyes tracking every flinch and tremor with a focused intensity that cuts right through me.
It’s like he’s reading me, still trying to figure out if I’m actually an omega or not.It’s infuriating.
“Please,” I snarl then grunt when another wave of slick rushes from my body. It’s hot and involuntary, and my hands fly to his shoulders to steady myself.
I need this alpha inside me now.
He's mine.
All fucking mine.
And I might kill him if he doesn’t fuck me soon.
The Pretty Little Thing
Cliff
I can't figureout what the fuck this woman is.
She looks like a beta. Everything from her height to her build and even her lack of pheromones all says beta. But everything else is wrong.
No beta I've ever met acts like this. Betas don't go glassy-eyed and feral. They don't claw at alphas like they'll die without contact, and they sure as shit don't produce slick.
Even kissing her is weird.
