Page 23 of Evan and the Alpha

I reach for his hand, let him twine our fingers. He seems to like that. Maybe it’s a human thing? I don’t know.

He can’t get his breathing under control; he’s panting and gasping and moaning. I’m not even moving.

“So good, so fucking good,” he pants when I cup his cheek, like he knows I’m looking for an okay.

I peer down at where we’re joined; it seems to me he’s already stretched to the limit. I’m not sure I can get all the way in.

I touch the bruises along his neck. When I glance up, there’s a strange glow in his eye. Desperation, desire swirl together in those green orbs.

And then he whispers, “Hurt me.”

I can’t begin to explain what happens next. Something turns off all the worry, all the concern I have for him. I shove deep into him, ignoring how he howls. There is nothing—nothing—except the glorious feel of him around my cock, and I need more of that, need more of the friction, the pressure. I drive as deep into him as I can, and he thrashes underneath me.

Later, I will be reluctant to admit I fucked him ruthlessly, with total abandon, complete disregard. He howls again; he claws at my chest, drags his blunt nails down my back. His cock slaps between us, and there is only the sound of flesh smacking into flesh, his voice cracking on his pleasure.

My hand trembles as I gently stroke his throat, such a contrast to how I’m slamming into him below. I glance up for confirmation as I start to wind my hand around his neck.

His pupils are so wide, I can’t find a trace of green anywhere in his gaze; it’s just black, liquid desire, swirling there like it’s swirling in my own gut, dangerous and edgy.

“Yes.” It’s trembling, terrified, but laced with anticipation. Evan huffs another breath. “Sobek, yes.”

I close my hand over his trachea, cutting off his air, pressing more bruises into his neck. His life is suddenly in my hands. His eyes flutter shut. He wheezes and gasps and chokes, and I slowly clamp my hand down tighter.

He can’t cry out. His face twists up like he wants to. He claws desperately at my arm, like he wants to pry me off, but the rest of his body bucks up into the sensation, and he finally hits his peak; there’s heat as he spills between us. His entire body shudders around me, cloaca clamping down tight. I grab his hip and drag him further down on my cock, hoping, desperately, to get my knot inside him.

It doesn’t happen. His eyebrows knit together suddenly; tears gather at the edges of his eyes. He shakes his head; I can feel the strength leaving his struggle.

I release him, and he gasps, desperately, eyes flying open. He sucks in breath after greedy breath, and I lay my dizzy head down on his chest, listening to his thundering heartbeat, echoing my own racing pulse.

He trembles everywhere. “Sobek,” he whispers at last, his voice shattered, and I moan. I push into him again, still desperate to bury my knot, to come inside him and make him mine.

He shakes so hard, I’m afraid he’s going to fall apart. I pull back, then free. He’s still gasping for air. I rub his back, relaxing only as his breathing starts to calm again.

Instinctually, I pull him into my arms, cradle him against my chest. He rests his head there, eyes closed. Slowly, his trembling subsides. “Thank you,” he whispers, reverent and broken all at once. “Thank you.”

And I know—he’s mine.