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But for my alphas, I’ll give everything I have.
The bond settles between us, a heavy weight, a thread that tethers his soul and mine and, for a moment, everything is perfect. He pulls back and gazes down at me, forearms resting on either side of my head, cradling me like I’m something precious.
I hold his stare, reaching up to cup his cheek. There’s stubble peppering his strong jaw, and those stormy eyes are still nearly black, but that wildness from before has receded enough that he can speak more than one word at a time.
“Did I hurt you?” He punctuates the question with a soft thrust that has my cunt clamping around his length. Grunting, he pinches his eyes shut and repeats the movement.
“No,” I say. Not this time. Has Brady hurt me? Yes, repeatedly, but it was an impossible situation. This, though? He gave me everything I wanted and then some. “It was perfect.”
He leans into my touch. “Fuck, you feel so good with my cum inside of you.”
I hum and wrap my arms around his middle, pressing my face into his shoulder and savoring his nearness. My chest warms and my insides melt. He kisses the top of my head and continues to slowly move his hips. Every time cum streams out of his tip, an orgasm rolls over me. By the time he’s done and his knot deflates, I’m sweaty and sticky and so sleepy.
Releasing his body, I lay my head on the mattress and gaze up at him. “Thank you.”
His face lines, but I’m not sure I understand the emotion. His eyes, now blue and stormy, study my face. Then his gaze moves to my neck, and he frowns. Dread pools in my gut. I know that look.
“Quinn.”
“Don’t,” I say immediately. “Don’t ruin it, please.”
“I’m sorry.” There’s such heaviness in those words, almost like it breaks him as much as it breaks me. His cum spills out of me as he pulls out, but now it feels wrong.
Dirty.
Even worse, he climbs off the mattress and grabs his clothes, barely glancing at me in the process of running away.
“Brady,” I whisper as he walks toward my bedroom door.
He pauses, muscles tightening and body trembling. In that millisecond, hope floods through me. He’ll come back. He’ll see reason. He can’t leave. He won’t.
But then he does.
The slam of my door is like a blow to the gut. Air wheezes out of my lungs, and my body heats with shame. I hold my breath, refusing to feel. Refusing to exist. It would be easier that way. It would be easier to just cease.
But then my lungs burn, and my body finally forces a breath. Embarrassment. Humiliation. After all that, how can he justleave? I run trembling fingers over the mark he left behind. He claimed me. He gave me everything. And then he ripped it away, as if it was nothing. My throat thickening, I battle the sob that’s building. I fight a war, trying not to cry. Trying not to care. Trying not to let it matter.
But it does.
It means everything.
Everything smells like him. Everything feels like him. Everything. I shift and my core throbs. I can still remember what he felt like inside of me. My lips tingle. I can taste his kiss. The mark on my neck pulses. I remember how perfect it was when he claimed me.
I stare at the door, sadness burning through me. Betrayal. The lump in my throat grows bigger and bigger until there’s no way to deny it. It’s impossible to hold back the scream any longer. Glaring at the door, I finally let it out, screaming until my throat aches and the scream gives way to hard sobs.
Tears, years of pent up sadness, pour out of me.
Shakily, I climb out of my nest and glare at it. The evidence of what we did is so clear. The blankets and pillows are a mess.
He’s everywhere.
Growling, I grab the blankets, bundling them up between sobs. I launch the pillows out of the nest. I rip everything out of my closet until all that’s left is the memory of what only lasted for a few precious moments.
I’m so sad.
But even more, I’m angry.
Without thinking, I grab the cum-soaked materials, carrying them out of my room and down the hall until I reach his room. I kick the door open but he’s not inside. For a beat, I wonder where he is, then I curse myself for caring.
