Page 80 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

Marcus lets out a breath, drops his forehead onto my knee, and stays there. “You are a maddening woman.”

Despite everything, I want to put my hand in his hair. I keep it fisted at my side. “I’m a mother. Every choice I make, every step I take, it all has to bend around her. That’s the job.”

“You’re right.” He lifts his head. “It does. And you’re a good mother, Jessa, I’ve never once said otherwise.” His hands come to rest on my knees. “But moving her hurts her too, and you need to see that clearly. Pull her out of Crestline now, drag her to some new school three states away, and the first thing they’ll ask is why a scholarship kid left the best academy in the country. Nobody will believe it when a mother says she walked away for no reason from a full ride scholarship to one of the most elite schools in the country. It brands the kid, and it trails her for years.”

A hiss escapes me before I can stop it. None of that had crossed my mind.

“Top academy to some bottom-feeder school,” he says, watching it sink in. “You should know what that does to a kid’s future.”

My eyes go to the dark window, and I stay quiet. “I can’t make the choice for you,” he says, softer now. “That’s not mine to make. But I want Mia to stay. It’s good for her.” He looks up at me from the crouch, his eyes holding mine, unguarded, until my resistance gives. “I want both of you to stay.” He searches my face. “Is there something about this place that bothers you? The house, the town, anything at all?”

“No.” The word’s out before I can dress it up.

Marcus rises out of the crouch just enough to bring his face level with mine, close enough that his breath moves across my lips. “Then it’s not the house. Is it me? Am I not to your satisfaction?”

Heat crawls up my neck before I can stop it. His mouth grazes the inside of my wrist where my pulse is going wild, then the heel of my hand, then the center of my palm, slowly enough that I stop breathing.

“I keep trying to picture you gone,” he says against my skin, working his mouth up the soft inside of my arm. “Packing up your belongings, driving Mia three states off. I can’t stand it.” He kisses the bend of my elbow. “You run, I might just pack Bella up and follow you there. I think I might be a little bit obsessed with you, Jessa. The idea of you not being in my home, under my roof, makes me want to go to wherever you are.”

Three glasses in now, the wine is loosening every knot I have used to hold myself apart from him. The heat of his lips is driving away every reason I have said no. It’s just like last time. I knew he was drunk, but when he touched me, when his mouth was against my skin, all common sense was replaced by a burning need.

“Marcus.” His name comes out a desperate plea. “This is a bad idea.”

“Probably.” The word breaks out of him on a growl, and his hands don’t hesitate. His mouth crashes back onto mine, hungry, all teeth and tongue. Years of pent-up tension tear loose between us. I don’t push him away. Instead I clutch at his shoulders and haul him closer, every careful wall I’ve built between us gone in a breath.

His hands are everywhere, sliding under my thin top, palms scorching against bare skin. He yanks the fabric up over my head in one rough motion and tosses it aside. Cool air hits my breasts before his hands cover them, thumbs dragging over my nipples until they tighten to aching peaks. I arch into his touch on a broken moan.

He grabs my wrist and drags my hand down his chest, pressing my palm to the hard planes of muscle. “Feel what you do to me.”

I groan low as rock-hard muscle shifts under hot skin, his heart hammering steadily against my palm. The sheer power coiled in him leaves me dizzy. My fingers trace the ridges of his abs and dip lower. He hisses through his teeth when I brush the waistband of his sweats. Every part of him strains toward me.

I shove his shirt up, and he wrenches it off. My hands roam greedily over his chest, nails scraping his nipples, trailing down the line of hair below. He shudders. A deep rumble rolls through his chest as he leans in and draws one of my breasts into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth grazing just enough to send sparks shooting straight between my legs. I cry out and thread my fingers through his hair to hold him there.

He doesn’t go easy for long. His free hand slips between my thighs, pushing my shorts and panties aside. Two thick fingers slide through my slick folds. They tease my entrance before he pushes inside without warning. I gasp at the stretch, my walls clenching around him.

“So wet for me already,” he rasps, pumping his fingers slowly, curling them just right to hit the spot inside me that blurs my vision. “I’ve been losing my mind wanting you.”

I rock against his hand, desperate for more, my free hand still roaming the hard planes of his chest. He works a third finger into me, stretching me open, his mouth switching to my other breast and sucking hard. The double onslaught has me trembling on the edge before he pulls back just as I start to tip over.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice dark with need. He strips the rest of my clothes off, then shoves his sweats down. His cock springs free, thick, heavy, brutally hard. The sight of him pools heat low in my belly even as nerves twist through me.

He lifts me onto the cold kitchen counter and steps between my spread thighs. The marble chills my bare ass, a sharp contrast to the heat pouring off him. He grips my hips, notches the broad head of his cock against my entrance, and pushes in on one powerful thrust.

“You’re too big,” I gasp, the words tumbling out as my body fights to take him. It’s been years. The thought cuts through the haze.

“Fuck. Jessa.” He groans. His forehead drops to mine as he sinks deeper, inch by relentless inch. “You are so goddamn tight. You are squeezing me like a vise. So perfect.”

The stretch burns deliciously. My walls flutter and grip his thick length as he bottoms out. He holds still for a heartbeat, letting me adjust, his chest heaving against mine. Then he starts to move, slowly at first, deep, rolling thrusts dragging against every nerve inside me. The heavy counter shifts under us with the force of each one, a low, solid thud beneath the slap of skin on skin.

“What if the girls wake up?” I pant even as my legs wrap tighter around his waist and pull him deeper.

“They won’t,” he growls, snapping his hips harder. “Door’s shut, they’re out cold. Just let go, Jessa. Let me feel you come.”

His pace quickens, turning desperate, skin slapping against skin, the slick sounds of us filling the quiet kitchen. He leans down to capture my mouth again, swallowing my moans as one hand kneads my breast and pinches the nipple. His other hand grips my ass, angling me so he drives even deeper.

I come hard the first time, crying out into his mouth as my body clamps down around him, waves of pleasure crashing through me. He doesn’t stop, fucking me through it, drawing it out until I’m shaking and raw.

Before I can catch my breath, he pulls out, spins me around, and bends me over the counter. My breasts press to the cold marble as he thrusts back into me from behind in one smooth stroke. The new angle is devastating, his cock dragging along that perfect spot with every snap of his hips.