Page 126 of False Catch

Her hand wraps around the base, stroking in rhythm with her mouth, twisting just slightly when she pulls back to flick her tongue across the head. I can feel myself teetering on the edge, and I know if I let her keep going I won’t last.

I fist a hand in her hair and tug gently. “Enough—come here.” My voice is raw, almost pleading.

She releases me with a wet sound, lips shiny, a little smile curving at the corner of her mouth like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. She lets me drag her up into my lap.

When she sinks onto me, it’s slow, excruciatingly slow, her heat stretching around me until I’m fully seated inside her. My vision whites out for a second, the sensation so intense I have to hold her hips still to keep from coming right then.

She starts to move, rolling her hips in deep, measured strokes that grind us together in perfect rhythm. It isn’t fast. It isn’t frantic. It’s consuming. Every rise and fall feels like she’s trying to carve me into her memory, to keep this with her even after she walks out the door.

Her breasts bounce gently with each thrust, and I can’t stop myself from leaning in, from taking one of her nipples into my mouth. I suck, slow and hard, teeth scraping, tongue circling, and the taste of her skin makes something in me snap.

The Alpha in me surges forward. My canines throb. All I have to do is bite down, mark her here, make her mine forever. Her nipple sits against my teeth and I’m a breath away from claiming her right there, not on her neck, but on her breast where no one could mistake it.

She must feel it—the way my jaw tightens, the way my breath shakes—because instead of pulling back, she arches into me, offering herself.

“Do it,” she whispers, broken and brave. “If you want to.”

Everything in me screams yes. My body is ready to break every rule, burn every bridge. I want the bond, want it carved into my blood and hers.

But I can’t. My parents’ faces flash in my head, their threats, their control. The leash I’ve worn my whole life yanks tight.

With a strangled sound, I wrench my mouth away and press my forehead to her chest instead. “I can’t.”

She stills above me. For a moment, the only sound in the room is our breathing. Then her hand slides into my hair, soft, forgiving, and it kills me more than if she’d been angry.

“I know,” she whispers.

Her fingers stay tangled in my hair, stroking softly, almost like she’s comforting me. That hurts worse than anything.

“Reese,” I rasp, but she only shakes her head, cupping my jaw until I meet her eyes.

“Then just… give me this.” Her hips start to move again, rolling slow and deliberate, dragging me deep inside her. “One last time.”

The words spear through me, but I can’t stop her, can’t stop myself. I grip her hips and guide her pace, lifting her just enough that she sinks down harder on the next thrust. The sound she makes is sharp and raw, her nails biting into my shoulders.

Her rhythm builds, still steady but more urgent now, and the way she squeezes around me has me breaking apart at the seams. Every clench is a demand, every roll of her body a plea I can’t deny.

I slide a hand down between us, fingers circling her clit in tight, practiced strokes. She gasps, rocking into the pressure, chasing the edge. Her face is inches from mine, eyes wide and wet, mouth parted.

“Look at me,” I say again, voice cracking. “Don’t look away.”

She doesn’t. Her gaze locks on mine as her orgasm rips through her, her entire body spasming around me. The way she cries out my name, the way she shakes against me, it unravels the last of my control.

I thrust up into her hard, hips snapping, desperate to bury myself as deep as I can. My release crashes over me in hot, violent waves, pulsing through me until I’m emptied inside her.

My mouth finds her breast again, teeth grazing the swollen peak, and for a heartbeat I almost do it — almost sink in, almost bind her to me forever. But at the last second I tear myself back, groaning against her skin instead, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark that will fade.

When it’s done, we collapse together, her head tucked under my chin, our bodies still joined. Her walls flutter around me in soft aftershocks, and I swear I feel her memorizing the shape of me from the inside out.

Neither of us speaks. There’s too much in the silence.

Finally, she shifts off my lap, moving slow, tender, like she doesn’t want to break the moment even as she’s ending it. She dresses without looking at me, and I can’t find the words to stop her.

At the door, she glances back with that sad, small smile. "I don't regret any of it, you know. Getting to know you. All of you. I'm glad I did."

There's something in her tone that sends warning signals through every nerve. "Reese, what does that mean?"

She doesn't answer. Just opens the door and slips out, leaving me standing in the middle of my room with the distinct feeling that something just ended.