Page 11 of Fighting the Alpha

I wait a full fifteen minutes after they’ve filtered out before heading upstairs to find Levi’s room. I stand outside his door for another five, suddenly panicking that his trainers could be inside. Or that he’s changed his mind.

It feels like the fight was just a precursor to this moment. Standing outside Levi’s door, my mind a swirling mess of nerves and trepidation and a deep, thrumming excitement that I haven’t quite let myself feel until right now.

I won the fight, so it’s my turn to take control and take what I want without a thought for his pleasure—just like he did to me.

That’s the plan, right?

Only, that’s not what he did at all. If that was how it had gone down last time, maybe this would be easier. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent the better part of the last nine months desperately trying to stop myself from replaying the memory of him burying himself inside me over and over again.

What actually happened was that he opened the door to something that topped anything I’d ever experienced before, carved out a Levi-shaped hole in my psyche, and left me so twisted up that I’d actually considered throwing the fight just so I’d have an excuse to experience it all over again.

So yeah, fucking Levi Bastien is the plan.

Only, as I finally reach out to knock, I realize the only thing more intoxicating than winning the wager is the terrifying hope that he won't let me collect it.

Levi

“You took your fucking time,” I say, ushering Dylan into the room and ignoring the quick burst of relief that washes over me at the sight of him at my door.

I take a second to admire the way his sweats stretch tight over the swell of his ass, more than a little sad I won’t be getting to use it again tonight.

“I wanted to give you time to recover,” he says gruffly. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be up to it after that knock.”

I follow him in, watching as he looks around the room like it’s not a carbon copy of the room he’s staying in. “Pfft. It was a tap.”

He gives me an unconvinced look that makes me grin. “And I wasn’t sure if you’d have gotten rid of your trainers yet. Mine were trying to drag me out to celebrate.”

“I’m sure,” I say with a wry smile. “No, I told them to fuck off as soon as we got out of the arena. I did not need a long breakdown of all my fuck-ups.”

I don't mention that I’ll be saving that particular joy for next time I’m at the gym. Luke’s a good trainer with a pristine record, but my god the guy’s an asshole. It’s all sunshine and rainbows until you lose a fight, and then he’ll tear you down until the only thing pushing you to win the next one is pure fury alone.

Dylan frowns. “That’s shitty.”

He looks so genuinely concerned that I almost forget that he’s here because he nearly knocked me into next week an hour ago and has come to fuck me as a reward.

“Hmm,” I hum, rounding on him. I get close enough that I can see the pulse kicking in Dylan’s neck. “But you are not here to talk about my asshole trainer, are you, Dylan?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. “No.”

I lean in closer, hooking one finger into the waistband of his sweats and snapping it against his taut abdomen. “Then what are you here for?”

Dylan breathes in through his teeth.

“Get on your knees,” he grunts, pushing me down by my shoulders, although I’m dropping to the floor before the command has even finished coming out of his mouth. So what if I’ve been dying to get his cock in my mouth since last time? It’s a nice cock. Magnificent, even.

“No messing around, eh?” I smirk, pushing down his sweats and chuckling darkly when his cock springs out, already fully hard and hot in my hand. My alpha bristles, not happy at being on my knees for another alpha, but the instinct to fight back is easier to resist knowing that he’s done the same to me before. And my eagerness to taste him helps, too.

I take him into my mouth, swiping my tongue over his slit and savoring the salty taste of him as his thighs quiver. I tug lightly on his balls, flattening my tongue against the taut underside of his shaft and sinking down slowly, looking up at him through my lashes as I do it.

Basically, I remind him exactly why he’s been thinking about this for nine months. And it works. Dylan looks like he’s one breath away from shattering like a pane of glass, his breathing ragged as his fingers flit between my hair and my shoulders, like he needs to hold onto something but can’t decide what. And maybe I should find that funny, but it’s just so fucking hot.

He tastes like adrenaline and sweat, just purealpha, and I think I could do this all night if he let me. Just licking his cock and watching the expression on his face grow more and more blissed out until he falls apart. I know I’m meant to be the loser here, but the way I can make the corners of his eyes crease and his lower lip twitch with just a flick of my tongue… well, that feels a lot like power.

“Ah—enough,” he groans eventually, pulling me up by my collar roughly. I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm when we’re level, feeling way too smug for someone who just lost a fight. Dylan’s eyes dance over my lips, no doubt red and swollen from use, and the rapidly-forming marks his fists left behind. I’m still willing to bet that he looks more wrecked than I do.

“Are you going to fuck me?” I rasp, the question coming out as more of a challenge than I intend, but I can’t turn off that competitive edge around him, even when I’m supposed to be submitting. It’s just too damn fun. Dylan flushes, turning his eyes away from my intense gaze until I guide his eyes back to mine with a nudge to his chin.

I’m pretty sure this should be the easiest question in the world for him to answer—I could see how hard he’s been training for this fight over the last nine months in every punch he threw in the ring. He was more focused than I’ve ever seen him, putting everything into beating my ass—presumably so he’d win the opportunity to bury himself in it.