Page 12 of Fighting the Alpha

But he’s not saying anything. The cogs are turning behind those dark, pensive eyes, but no words are coming out.

“Cat got your tongue,mon grande?” I taunt, trying to get a reaction out of him. I grip his jaw roughly between my finger and thumb, searching his eyes and expecting him to struggle or shake me off. But he goes slack and still under my hold. “I thought I’d be ass up on the couch as soon as I closed the doorbehind you. Unless you’re getting cold feet? Feeling a little scared?”

“Fuck off,” he spits, but it comes out weak. My other hand slides slowly up his arm, tracing the impressive line of his biceps and shoulders, enjoying the feeling of the firm muscle under my fingertips. The hotel lighting reflects off the contours of his body, casting them in an alluring, bronze glow.

“You were not scared last time, were you?” I continue, squeezing his shoulder hungrily and remembering how easily he submitted to me in that dingy dressing room. I remember the way his lips parted as I opened him up, and how beautifully he came all over my cock, all the competitive alpha bitterness edged out of his scent until all that was left was that content, intoxicating sweetness.

And then I look at him.Reallylook at him. The slack jaw, the blush high on his cheeks and the half-lidded eyes. The way his muscles relax under my grip, all the tension easing away the longer I hold him still.

Holy shit.Holy shit.

“Mon dieu.” I slide the hand that’s anchoring his jaw down to his neck, digging my fingers into the pale, sensitive flesh as the realization that maybe he’s thinking about changing the terms of our wager starts to dawn on me. The grip I have on his neck would have any other alpha trying to break my wrist on pure instinct alone, but Dylan doesn’t even flinch.

No—he fuckingsighs.

And then he immediately looks totally horrified with himself. “Hmph, Fuck, Levi—”

“You want me to take you again, eh?” I say slowly, rubbing a soothing thumb over his neck. For once, I don’t tease him. Whatever internal crisis is happening behind those eyes, I don’t want to make it worse.

Dylan tilts his head into my touch, looking turned on and tortured at the same time. “Don’t make me say it,” he mutters.

“I won’t,” I hum. “You won tonight. You earned that much. But if you won’t tell me, you’ll have to show me.”

Dylan doesn’t move for a moment. Slowly, his hand comes to my hip, burrowing under my t-shirt so he can trace a firm, deliberate circle into my skin as a silent signal. And that’s good enough for me.

He already looks so fucking gone. I cup his jaw, pushing my thumb into his mouth, and he parts his lips and takes it inside like it’s a fucking prize, like he’s been waiting for it all night. Maybe longer. His eyes are soft and hazy, and the way he’s looking at me should be so out of place on this tank of an alpha, but it fits him like a glove.

Andfuck, this is dangerous. Dylan Long is dangerous—always has been.

So I kiss him. It’s reckless, and probably crosses every unspoken boundary between us, but fuck it. We’ve not signed any contracts. The rules of this wager are ill-defined at best, and getting flimsier by the second. And he just looks too fucking sweet to resist.

He makes a small noise of surprise in the back of his throat when I bring our mouths together, but he melts into me without resistance almost instantly. It’s kind of breathtaking, the way his big body folds against my chest and his lips slide against mine as another one of those breathy sighs falls out of him. Our tongues brush, his scent sweet and heavy as it intertwines with mine. He tastes like whiskey and caramel.

But the softness doesn’t last long.

The moment I break the kiss, the lingering tenderness evaporates, replaced by the intense heat of two alphas operating on pure desire, built up over the course of nine long months. Our clothes come off quickly, a wild scramble of hands and bareflesh, until I’m pushing him back into the soft hotel sheets with a hand on his chest.

He goes down heavily, a rough grunt slipping from his lips, as I hook my hands under his thighs and pry them apart, slotting myself between them.

“W-what are you doing?” Dylan gasps as I spread the globes of his perfect ass, flinching like he thinks I’m about to hit him again.

I shrug nonchalantly, dipping my head down to lick a stripe over his hole and grinning when he jerks, his eyes clouding with lust and his thick eyebrows knitting together. “You are still the winner, yes? And I am a man of my word. So maybe I am fucking you, but I am fucking you like a winner deserves to be fucked.”

Dylan buries his face in the crook of one massive arm with a broken moan as I get back to work, lapping at his hole until his legs are trembling around me. I only pull away to find the lube I stashed in my bag, haphazardly thrown into a corner when I got here earlier this afternoon.

When I crawl back over him so I can slick my fingers up and push two inside, all I can think about is how fucking grateful I am that we have a bed this time. Because seeing him like this—sprawled out and pliant, arching into the press of my fingers as his head falls back against the pillows—is something I’m not sure I ever want to forget.

“Holy shit, Levi,” Dylan murmurs roughly as I spear him open on my fingers and tongue at his balls filthily. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I don’t know if I can—”

I don’t give him the chance to finish before I withdraw my fingers, enjoying the sharp whimper he makes in response a little too much.

“So impatient,mon grande,” I rasp, although the desperation already shivering up my spine matches the urgency in his voice.Dylan’s eyes follow the movement of my hand as I slick up my cock. “How do you want me?”

“W-what?” he says, looking dazed.

“It’s your choice,Monsieur Champion,” I say, stroking myself slowly just to take the edge off the arousal surging through me. I was ready to let him have me, but damn if I’m not glad it turned out this way, because being inside him once was never going to be enough. “Missionary, doggy, against the wall, upside down…”

He shudders. “Jesus. I don’t know, whatever you want, just—are you going to make me beg?”