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“Quinn.”
The fine hairs covering my arms rise, and I feel him following me. I make it up the stairs but refuse to turn around. I need to get to my room. I need to get away. I sense him drawing near, his scent coming closer and closer until he catches me around the waist and drags me against his body. Ineed.
“Brady,” I murmur his name, but it’s not a protest.
“What are you doing prancing around like that?” he demands, practically carrying me to my door. He shoves it open and wrangles me across the threshold. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
Brady’s arms are still around me when the door slams shut. My body trembles in his hold. His scent surrounds me, growing stronger, more demanding. Suffocating me. I suck in a shaky breath. Need. So potent. So visceral. I was so convinced he hated me, wanted nothing to do with our scent match, but all along, he’s been fighting desire, just like me.
“Please,” I beg, though for what, I’m not quite sure.
“Fuck,” he rasps. Nudging my head to the side, his nose falls to my exposed throat, and he breathes me in, groaning against my skin. “Fuck,” he growls, voice deeper, strained. Wild.
An alpha on the edge of a rut.
I shiver. “Brady.”
“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t say my name like that.”
I shouldn’t push him. I shouldn’t toy with this line, but I’m tired of aching. I’m tired of pretending like he means nothing. I’m tired of denying my body what it wants. He’s here. He knows. He’s exactly what I need. “Please,” I whimper, hookingmy arms behind his neck and pressing my ass back into his erection.
Hard. Thick. Throbbing.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
His entire body trembles as he fights for control. I whine again, all but begging.
“Quinn,” he says, voice shaking with restraint. One hand moves up, yanking on the ties of my robe. I help him drag it off my body. His clothes, expensive and silky, brush over my skin like a cool caress. “You want to play this game?” he demands, palm coasting between my breasts and down to cup my cunt.
“Yessss,” I hiss, bucking into his touch.
A guttural growl is all I get in response. He picks me up and hauls me toward my nest, knowing exactly where it is without being told. Knowing exactly what I want. My heart races and my core tightens in anticipation. Brady pushes me onto the soft mattress, and the air whooshes out of my lungs. I crawl on my hands and knees, glancing over my shoulder and catching the wild look in his eyes as he rips off his pants in one swift movement.
Thick and hard, his cock is dripping for me already.
He climbs onto the mattress, and I reach for him, but he shoves my hands away, gaze set on my center. “Spread.” The command hits me, and I adjust myself, tilting my hips and revealing my glistening cunt. A deep, rumbling purr emits from his chest and his eyes find mine. “Mine,” he snarls.
Yes.
My breath stutters in my chest. Brady, always so in control, stares at me like a beast ready to attack. His eyes are nearly all black and his chest heaves, as though there’s some shred of him still fighting for control.
I can’t let him win this time. Not when we’ve come this far.
I slip my hand down my body, brushing my finger over my clit and watching as his control snaps. One moment, he’s kneeling on the mattress, and the next, his hands are on my ass, rolling my hips back as he drops and runs his tongue through my slit, tasting me for the first time.
“Brady,” I gasp, hands fisting the velvety blankets.
“Mine,” he growls against my pussy, nearly lost, but not quite gone. I want him completely out of control. I want the alpha. I want the rut. I want the craze.
I want. I want. I want.
“Fuck me, Brady,” I beg, rolling my hips and dragging myself over his lashing tongue. “Knot me. Fuck me. Claim me.”
A growl is all I get in response before his tongue—hot and demanding—attacks my clit. Circling, teasing, coaxing. Faster. Faster. Faster. But then he’s gone, pushing up and settling his hips against my ass, cock nudging my center.
I crane my neck again, needing to see the moment he pushes inside of me. His pupils are blown, nostrils flared as he inhales. He runs his cock through my slick slit. As a Prince Albert piercing glides over my clit, I arch an eyebrow, but before I can ask when he got it, he grabs the base of his cock and eases the tip into me.
The keen that slips past my lips should be embarrassing, but even this small piece of him feels so wonderful. So perfect. And yet, it isn’t enough.
