Page 7 of Training the Alpha

“Yes. Fuck,” I choke as he presses his palm over my bulge, giving me just enough friction to make my hips kick forward. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” he smirks, all confidence and easy smiles like he’s not got me trembling under his hands. “You’ve been eyeing me up since the day I walked in here.”

My hand grips his chin roughly, steering his face towards mine. A wave of panic crashes through me. “I—I’m straight,” I murmur weakly, my practiced speech coming out as one idiotic, distilled stutter. I know it’s ridiculous and meaningless when he can smell the strength of my arousal just as easily as I can smell his, but it’s all I have. The only line of defense before we cross a line that will rip me out of the safe, comfortable,straightlife I’ve been living for the last thirty-three years.

“You’re doing a terrible job of proving it,” he says, and I know he’s right.

And then he leans into the calloused grip of my fingers, and fuckingtiltshis head to bare the smooth expanse of his neck. It’s a submissive gesture that makes my alpha surge, but Alexsomehow makes it look like a power move, andgood godwhy is that so hot? My cock pulses, my balls drawing up as I shudder and a low, rumbling growl emanates from my chest without my permission.

My eyes flick frantically to the corners of the room, a quick, anxious double-check to make absolutely sure we’re not being watched. But the pull of Alex is stronger, his show of submission snapping any final, flimsy threads of restraint I had left.

And then my lips are pressing against his urgently, my hands fisting in the fabric of his tank and grazing the hard muscle underneath like I’ve wanted to for weeks. Desire and instinct war in every fiber of my being, my hands unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away.

Alex decides for me, fumbling off his gloves and tugging our bodies together, drawing a ragged groan from between my lips.

The kiss is brutal and starving, and so good I can barely catch my breath. Every press of Alex’s gorgeous lips and every nip of my teeth against his feverish skin feels like a play for dominance, both of us trying to gain the upper hand, and it sends a violent jolt of pure arousal surging through me. Alex moans into my mouth, his wrapped hands coming up to grip my broad, sweat-slicked shoulders as my hips grind against his desperately.

But when he threads his hand through my hair and brings his mouth to my neck, my instincts get the better of me. Aggression overtakes the arousal, and I push him away with a sharp growl, my nostrils flaring and red clouding my vision.

I blink at him, dazed, until the moment passes. “Sorry,” I murmur. “Your pheromones are driving me crazy. I’ve never wanted to fight someone and—” I pause, wetting my lips with my tongue, “—and fuck them at the same time.”

Saying it out loud makes my head spin. But while I’m having an internal crisis, Alex leans back against the ropes, lookinglike he does this every day. Maybe he does. I can’t take my eyes off him, every detail from his mussed hair to his kiss-swollen lips, and the thick shape of his cock in his leggings, bringing my thoughts back to the throbbing between my thighs.

“Well, practice makes perfect, coach,” he pants, and I want him so much it hurts. He pushes himself off the ropes. “Go lock the door, then meet me in the showers. The water will dampen our pheromones.”

He goes to move past me, and I can’t help grabbing his waist and pulling him in for another feverish kiss that leaves us both breathless. “Okay. Two minutes,” I grunt when we separate.

Longest two minutes of my life.

I move on autopilot through the gym, my hands so unsteady from the adrenaline that I fumble the key twice before locking the heavy front doors, sliding the deadbolt into place and shutting the outside world out. I can feel panic and fear biting at the back of my mind, trying to pull me back into the spiral ofwhat the fuck am I doing. But as I walk down the narrow concrete corridor that leads to the locker rooms, the trail of Alex’s scent and the hushed sound of running water push that back down into the far recesses of my mind.

Alex’s clothes are in a messy pile on the wooden bench, and I shed my own hastily, my eyes glued to the thick plume of steam billowing around the partition that leads to the showers. When I turn the corner, the hot, humid air wraps itself around me, immediately slicking my skin with moisture.

“Look at you,” Alex purrs. “You’re just as magnificent as I imagined.”

He’s standing under one of the shower heads, letting the spray run down his naked body, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, all the way to the light thatch of hair around his jutting cock. His eyes are half-lidded and clouded with lust ashe watches me approach, his gaze following the exact same path down my body.

He was right about the pheromones—they’re still potent enough that my mouth waters at his heady cedar and mint aroma, but they’re dampened enough by the steam that my territorial instincts are reduced to a low hum at the back of my mind, just enough to amp me up, but not enough that I can’t control my aggression. It’s intoxicating.

Alex’s hands slide against the coarse trail of hair on my abs as I close the gap between us, my fingers slipping against the wet skin of his hips, so I have to dig in my fingertips to pull us flush.

“Fuck, I want you,” I breathe unsteadily, stuttering when he grips my cock in his elegant hand, feeling the weight of my erection and slipping his hand down to tug at my balls. I’m already so hard, so impossibly turned on just by the proximity of him that every touch feels like a jolt of lightning.

“Then fucking have me, Marcus,” he growls.

I push him back against the tiles, both of us groaning in unison as our erections press together, and Alex adjusts his hand to stroke both of us. We’re both big—we’re both alphas, after all—so his long fingers can’t wrap around both of us, and the slide is rough and uneven and still absolutely perfect.

We kiss fiercely, a clash of tongues and teeth, until Alex mutters a frustrated curse and drops to his knees, looking up at me through dark, wet eyelashes. “I’ve wanted to taste you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

I don’t have a chance to respond before he’s licking a fat, shameless stripe from the base of my cock to the head, still managing to look perfectly poised even as he wraps his lips around my tip and sinks down, wrenching a deep moan from my throat. Pleasure courses through me as he wrecks whatever’s left of my sanity, the world narrowing to the hot spray on my back and the even hotter glide of his tongue along my shaft.

I brace myself against the shower wall and bury my other hand in the wet strands of his hair as his tongue swirls against my head and the raw, guttural sounds of my own groans echo off the shower walls.

“Trust you to be just as good at this as everything else,” I pant, my hips twitching as he twists his hand around my shaft and pulls off me with a wet, deliberate pop, giving me a triumphant smile like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Holyshit,dancer.”

A thick string of spit connects his pink lips to the dark head of my cock, and the sight of it makes the edges of my vision blur. I have to grip the base of my cock and haul him to his feet before I completely lose myself and come all over his pretty face right then and there.

“I was just getting started,” he pouts.