“Esme.” It comes out as the full bark, the alpha command, low and hard, and I watch it move through her, watch her bodyrespond to it before her brain does. I hate that I had to use it, but I’d do it again to keep my girl safe. “Inside. Please,” I add in a more gentle tone.
She fumbles the door open behind her. Steps back into her apartment, still staring at me, still wrecked and confused and so fucking beautiful it hurts.
“Lock the door,” I growl. “Soon as it’s shut. Lock it.”
“Sven, baby…”
“Lock the door, little one,” I rumble.
Her breath catches, and she nods.
The door closes. And I stand there in the hallway like a ravaged beast, waiting. A second later I hear the deadbolt slide; only then do I let myself breathe.
I walk out into the cold, hard as steel, the feel of my mate still all over my hand, a growl still rolling in my chest, every cell in my body in open revolt against the decision I just made.
Soon,I tell myself, getting into my truck and gripping the wheel.I’m fucking doing this right.
She took one finger tonight. We’ve got a long way to go, and all the time in the world to get there.
Nine
Sven
I don’t wash my hand. I drive home with her slick drying on my fingers, her scent filling the cab of the truck. By the time I get my front door shut, I’ve already got my jeans open, and I don’t even make it to the bedroom. I get my back against the wall in the dark and I take myself in hand… the same hand I had inside her just a little while ago… and I look down at what she’s done to me.
I’m huge. I know that. The kind of huge that’s made more than one female take one look and question her life choices.
I’m thicker than Esme’s wrist, as long as her forearm, with ridges down the underside standing out hard, my cockhead flushed dark green is leaking like a motherfucker. I’m so hard I’m gone past pleasure into something closer to pain, because I’ve been like this every day since she arrived in town, and haven’t fully gone down once.
I grip myself at the base, drag up slow, and I’m glad nobody’s here for the sound that comes out of me.
I think about the one finger. The way I worked it into her knuckle by fucking knuckle. How her body fought until it finallygave, and kept fighting me then giving, taking me inch by fucking inch. How tight she was… Christ, she’stight,clamped around me like a fucking vise, that wasone fucking finger,I’m holding the truth of all I am in my fist right now and I made her take one finger because anything more would’ve split her in half before she’s ready.
I stroke myself harder, tightening my grip the way she squeezed my finger, working my ridges with my thumb. I picture Esme. With her thigh hooked over my hip, her dress pushed up her full, round, soft hips, her juices all over my hand. The sounds she made when she came, breathed into my shoulder.
I picture what she’d look like under all that’s me. On her back, her thick thighs spread wide, her curvy little body taking me one fucking inch at a time, stuffed full, stretched to the edge of what she can stand. I see myself filling her. See what I’d leave inside her. What I’d pump her full with and push into her until it’s got nowhere left to go.
My hand flies now, rough, fast, the wet sounds of my precum slicking my fat cock, loud in the quiet house, my hips driving up into my fist, growls rolling constantly from my throat, the pressure builds at the base of my spine, in my balls, drawing up tight and hot, fucking enormous, I brace my forearm against the wall, grit my teeth and… come like a fucking dam breaking.
It tears out of me, the first jet hitting the wall, then I’m spilling over my fist in long, thick ropes, pulse after pulse after pulse, more than any human male could dream of, the way we’re built… endless, my body spasming with each surge, my hand, dripping, fucking overflowing, and it doesn’t stop, it keeps coming, hot and heavy over my knuckles, down my wrist, pooling on the floor, and all I can think through the white-out of it isEsme!This is what I’d fucking give her. I’d fill her with all of me and more and keep going, fill her until she’s swollen withmy cum, until it’s leaking out of her, until there’s no question in anyone’s mind whose she is.
Mine. Bred. Mine.
I come until I’m wrung out and shaking, braced against the wall, breathing like I ran fucking miles.
For about five seconds I think: Okay. Handled. Now I can sleep.
But I cannot sleep.
Because it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough, and I fucking knew it wouldn’t be. I had her. My fucking finger inside her, her thigh over my hip, her slick dripping all over my fucking hand and I fuckingwalked away,and now my fist is a fucking joke, and my hunger for my mate comes roaring straight back before I’ve even fully recovered from my orgasm.
I clean up, then I jack off again in the shower, slower this time, with my hand braced on the tile. I come just as fucking hard, just as much, and that shit helps for about as long as it takes for the water to run cold.
* * *
I lie in my bed in my big, quiet house, staring at the ceiling like some fucking emo kid.
I’m thirty-eight years old and I thought I had myself figured out. I’m the steady one. The brother everyone comes to when they lose their heads, the alpha the whole town goes silent around. I built an entire life on being the rock that nothing moves. That’s thewholefucking point of me.
