Page 96 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

As Bella walks past me, she looks up at me, pouting. “She didn’t score.”

I take her face in my hands and kiss her forehead. “All right then. She didn’t score.”

“I did too!” Mia exclaims, and the two go up arguing over whether a hedge counts as a goal. That leaves me at the sink and Marcus in the doorway with his shirt hooked over one shoulder.

He’s still breathing hard from the lawn, his chest slicked, a smear of dirt across his ribs from where he went down after her. It’s hard to force my eyes away from his chest. Heat curls down my spine and pools low in my belly.

He takes his time crossing the kitchen with his shirt hooked over one shoulder, chest still gleaming from the lawn. The ridges of his stomach flex with each step. I trace the sharp V that vanishes into his shorts, and I don’t stop myself.

“Like what you see?” His voice drops low.

“What?” My voice cracks. “No.”

“Really.” He catches my wrist, turns my palm up, then presses it against his chest. His heart thunders under my fingers. Mine answers hard enough to make me dizzy. “Stop it,” I whisper, though I don’t pull away.

He doesn’t step back. “You’re right. I should go shower.”

“You should.”

“Come and reach my back for me.” His mouth brushes the corner of my jaw, then trails down my throat. I tilt my head and give him more skin. “I can never reach my back.”

“I’m sure you’ve managed for thirty-odd years.”

He bites my shoulder, careful with his teeth, and heat shoots straight to my core. “You’re so mean to me.”

His hands brace on either side of my hips, pinning me against the island. Nothing touches me except his mouth, and it’s devastating. “Stop it, Marcus. We’re taking it slow, remember?”

“We’ll go slow.” His hand slides up my thigh, pushing the hem of my shorts and my panties aside. Two thick fingers glide through my soaked folds and sink into me in one stroke.

I gasp. The stretch is perfect, his fingers rough from work. He curls them and strokes that spot inside me until my knees buckle. Wet, obscene sounds fill the kitchen while he pumps them slowly in and out.

“Quiet, baby.” His voice goes dark against my neck. “Cover your mouth.”

I slap my free hand over my lips just in time. My moan vibrates into my palm while he finger-fucks me at that same lazy pace, his thumb circling my swollen clit. The squelch of him working inside my pussy echoes off the cabinets, and I can’t make myself care. Pleasure coils tight in my belly. I rock my hips into his hand and chase more of him.

He watches my face throughout, his eyes hooded. Then he draws his fingers out, glistening. Without breaking eye contact, he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, sucking each one with a low groan.

“Fuck, you taste sweet when you’re dripping for me.”

The build starts again, slower. His fingers come back, scissoring gently, stretching me, teasing me open until I shake. I’m right there, one hand fisted in his hair, when he stops.

“Marcus.” My cheeks burn. “We can’t. What if the girls come down?”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “If you want me to finish the job, you’re going to have to wash my back.”

I hesitate. When he lifts me, I don’t resist, and I lock my legs around his waist with my shorts still shoved aside.

“Your room is upstairs,” I hiss into his shoulder. “They’re upstairs.”

“Then you’ll have to be quiet.”

He carries me up, and my whole body goes rigid at the third step because I can hear water running behind Mia’s door. He doesn’t slow down. His hard cock rides against my bare pussy through his shorts with every stair he climbs, and I bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound. The girls’ bathroom passes on our left. Bella is singing in there, off-key, something about a horse.

His door shuts behind us, and he turns the lock.

He lowers me onto the edge of the bed, the mattress bouncing under me, then hooks his fingers into my shorts and drags them and my panties down my legs.

Then he stops. He takes my jaw between his thumb and forefinger and turns my face into the light, and for a long stretch, he says nothing at all. His thumb hovers over the yellow-green stain on my cheekbone without landing on it. A vicious hunger moves through his eyes, and it leaves me aching.