I’min control here.
He backs me toward the bed, our mouths never breaking apart, and I tug at his shirt, yanking it up over his head. His chest is broad, inked with tattoos that look like they tell stories I don’t have time to read. I run my nails down his skin, not gently, and he hisses against my lips, a low, playful growl that sends a thrill straight to my core.
“Easy there, tiger,” he murmurs, voice hushed but laced with that cocky grin I can feel more than see. “We’re playing nice and quiet, remember? Everyone else in this house is sleeping.”
I nip at his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan softly. “Then shut up and make me.”
His eyes darken, that chaotic spark igniting, and he spins us, pushing me down onto the bed. The mattress is soft, piled with rumpled blankets that smell like him—earthy, masculine, with a hint of that Alpha musk that makes my body hum.
He climbs over me, knees bracketing my hips, and captures my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head. Not too tight, but enough to make me arch up against him, testing the hold.
“Oh, you like that?” he whispers, his free hand sliding under my shirt, fingers splaying across my stomach. His touch is electric, sending sparkseverywhere. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”
I buck my hips, grinding against the hard length ofhim straining through his jeans. “You have no idea. Now strip me or I’ll do it myself.”
He chuckles, low and throaty, but keeps it quiet, mindful of the house. “Patience is a virtue, babe.”
“Fuck virtue.” I twist my wrists free—surprising him—and flip us so I’m on top, straddling his waist.
His eyes widen in delight, that grin splitting his face as I peel off my own shirt, tossing it aside. My bra follows, and the cool air hits my skin, making my nipples harden. His gaze drops, hungry, and he reaches up, cupping my breasts, thumbs circling the peaks.
“Goddamn, you’re perfect,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. “Wild and perfect. A chaos queen.”
I lean down, my hair falling around us like a curtain, and kiss him again, tongues tangling in a messy, heated dance. His hands roam, squeezing, teasing, and I rock against him, feeling his cock twitch beneath me. The friction is delicious, building that ache between my legs, but it’s not enough. I need more. Now.
“Off,” I demand, fumbling with his belt buckle. He helps, lifting his hips as I yank his jeans down, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and hard, curving up toward his stomach. I wrap my hand around it, stroking firmly, and he lets out a muffled curse, biting his lip to stay quiet.
“Fuck, Lola… slow down or this’ll be over too quick.”
“Where’s the fun in slow?” I tease, pumping him a few times, watching his face contort in pleasure. His hips buck into my grip, and I love the way he loses a bit of that cocky control, his breath hitching.
He grabs my hips, flipping us again with effortless strength—Alpha perks, I suppose—and pins me down, his mouth on my neck, sucking lightly. “My turn to play.”
His hands make quick work of my pants, sliding them off along with my panties. I’m bare to him now, exposed, and the way he looks at me, like I’m a feast he can’t wait to devour, makes my clit throb. He spreads my thighs, settling between them, and trails kisses down my body—collarbone, breasts, stomach—until his breath is hot against my core.
“Quiet now,” he warns, eyes glinting up at me mischievously. “Or I’ll have to stop.”
“Don’t you dare.” I thread my fingers through his hair, guiding him, and he dives in, tongue flicking over my clit in a way that makes me gasp. It’s expert, teasing circles that build the pressure fast, and I bite my own fist to stifle the moan building in my throat. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he laps at me, sucking gently, then harder, driving me absolutely wild.
“Oh shit, Jack…” I whisper, hips grinding against his face. The pleasure coils tight, hot and insistent, and he doesn’t let up, adding a finger, then two, curling them inside me to hit that perfect spot. My body tenses, the edge rushing up, and I come hard, waves crashing over me. I clamp down on my lip, keeping the cries locked in, but a soft whimper escapes.
He kisses his way back up, smirking like the devil. “Good girl. See? Quiet can be fun.”
I pull him down for a kiss, tasting myself on his lips, and reach between us, guiding his cock to my entrance. “Your turn to be good. Fuck me like you mean it.”
He pushes in slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching me deliciously. We both groan softly, the sound mingling in the dim room. He’s big, filling me completely, and once he’s buried deep, he pauses, forehead against mine, breathing ragged.
“You feel incredible,” he murmurs, starting to move with slow thrusts that build to a rhythm, wild but controlled. I wrap my legs around him, meeting every push with a roll of my hips, our bodies slamming together in hushed intensity.
“Faster,” I demand, nails digging into his back. He obliges, picking up the pace, the bed creaking faintly under us. We both freeze for a second, listening, but the house stays silent. He laughs quietly against my ear.
“Told you—quiet.”
“Shut up and go harder.” I clench around him, making him gasp, and he does, thrusting deeper, the angle hitting just right. The banter fades into pants and whispers, our chaotic energies syncing perfectly. It’s wild and reckless, but contained in this bubble of secrecy.
He flips me onto my stomach suddenly, pulling myhips up, and enters me from behind. The new position is intense, his cock driving deeper, one hand reaching around to rub my clit. I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my moans, the pleasure building again, fierce and unstoppable.
“Like that?” he whispers, voice strained. “Tell me.”
