“More than I thought I would,” I admit, surprising myself with the honesty. I pump him a few times, watching his face, the way his eyes hood, his jaw clenches. He’s holding back, letting me lead for now, and that restraint is sexy as hell.
But then he sits up, capturing my mouth in another searing kiss, and flips us back, his body covering mine. He sheds my jeans and panties in one go, leaving me bare beneath him. The air smells of us now. My Omega scent blooming, floral and sweet with arousal, mixing with his stormy Alpha musk. It’s heady, making my head spin as he settles between my thighs, his cock pressing against my entrance, teasing but not entering.
“Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice a low command, his fingers dipping between my legs to circle my clit. I’m soaked, slick coating his hand, and he groanssoftly at the feel. “Say it, Lola.”
“I want it,” I breathe, hips bucking against his touch. “Fuck me, Archer.”
He doesn’t make me beg more. He lines up and pushes in slowly, inch by torturous inch, stretching me in the most delicious way. God, he’shuge,filling me completely, the slight curve hitting spots I didn’t know I had. I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming. It’s not just the size; it’s the way he moves, controlled thrusts that build a rhythm, reading my body’s cues like he’s attuned to me.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs against my ear, his breath hot, sending goosebumps across my skin. “Tight, wet… perfect for me.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his thrusts with my own. The bed doesn’t creak much—it’s sturdy, like everything in his room—and we keep our sounds low, but the intensity builds.
Sweat slicks our skin, the slap of flesh on flesh rhythmic, almost hypnotic. His hand finds my clit again, rubbing in firm circles that match his pace, and the dual stimulation has me climbing fast.
“Oh fuck, Archer…” I whisper, my voice breaking as the pressure coils tight. He’s relentless, driving into me with precision, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over.
The room fills with the scent of sex, our mingledaromas creating a cocoon of desire. His free hand roams, pinching my nipple, then soothing it with his thumb, every touch heightening the sensations.
He shifts angles slightly, and stars burst behind my eyes. “There,” he says, like he knew exactly what I needed. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
I do, shattering around him, my pussy clenching his cock in waves of ecstasy. It’s intense, full-body, making my toes curl and my vision blur. I bite his shoulder to muffle my cry, tasting salt on his skin. He doesn’t stop, fucking me through it, prolonging the orgasm until I’m trembling.
But he’s still not done. He pulls out, flips me onto my hands and knees with effortless strength, and enters me from behind. The new position lets him go deeper, his cock dragging along my walls in a way that reignites the fire. One hand grips my hip, the other reaches around to tease my clit again, fingers slick with my arousal. “Again,” he commands, voice rougher now, his control fraying at the edges.
I push back against him, meeting his thrusts, the sound of our bodies connecting echoing softly. His balls slap against me, adding to the sensory overload. The feel of him filling me, the scent of our sweat and lust, the taste of him still on my lips from earlier kisses. He’s everywhere, surrounding me, and it’s better than I imagined. Archer, the intense enforcer, is a god in bed, his big cock and unerring instincts making every movement count.
The bond with Jack tugs faintly, a reminder of complications, but right now, it’s drowned out by this. Archer’s hand slides up my back, tangling in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my neck. He leans over me, mouth on my shoulder, teeth grazing but not biting. “You’re mine today,” he growls, low and possessive. “All mine. I am not sharing you today.”
The words send a thrill through me, and I come again, harder this time, my walls fluttering around him. He follows, thrusting deep with a stifled groan, spilling inside me, his cock pulsing. We collapse together, his arms wrapping around me, holding me close as our breaths sync.
I’m surprised. Utterly, ridiculously surprised. Archer in bed is a revelation. A controlled passion, that massive cock, and an intuition that reads me like a book. As we lie there, his scent lingering on my skin, I realize this tether thing just got a lot more interesting. But complications? Yeah, they’re piling up. Still, for now, I let myself bask in the afterglow, his steady heartbeat against my back an unexpected comfort.
Chapter 13
Lola
I don’t stay the night with Archer. It feels too intimate, despite what we just did. Instead, I make an excuse in the early evening and leave. I need some distance from the pack right now. If I were to accidentally run into Jack, it would just be weird. There might be pressure to complete the bond or something equally as confusing right now.
So I leave.
I turn up at the pub before I realize where I am. The River is quieter tonight than it was the first time I walked in.
That was days ago now. The night I dyed my hair in Doris Harrow’s bathroom and couldn’t sleep. I walked through the dark town and found a pub and found Jack, in that order. I made a series of decisions that I am stillprocessing the consequences of.
Just four days? It feels like longer. It feels like the kind of longer that isn’t about time passing but about density. How much has happened in the space of it, how different the internal landscape looks from one end to the other.
I push open the door.
I came alone because I needed to be alone for a while.
This is a new kind of need, the alone part. Two weeks ago alone was my default state, my operating condition, the water I swam in so constantly I’d stopped noticing it was water. Now alone requires seeking out. Now alone is something I have to find space for.
I needed an hour of just being another person in a room.
The River gives me that. It’s the right kind of pub for it. It has the lived-in warmth, the low noise, the bartender who topped up my water without being asked the first time. I’ve since learned the bartender is called Pete and he has strong opinions about the carnival’s parking situation.
I take a stool at the bar. Not the same stool as last time. Different end, different sightline. Old habit.
