Page 4 of Alpha's Chosen Mate (Wolf Billionaire #2)

CHAPTER 4

LEILANI

I spend all night reading. It’s the only thing that has kept me sane over the last three days. I receive no visits from my father or my captor. All I get is a silent Enya dropping off meals and comments that make me want to claw out her eyes.

Occasionally, Christian’s mark on my shoulder flares and crippling pain consumes me, lasting for well over an hour. He’s having sex with Georgia, and I have to suffer because I wasn’t given a chance to accept his rejection.

It’s all left me emotionally exhausted. I’ve been waiting around for my father to show up, but it’s clearly not happening. I’ve been an idiot to think he’d choose me over the pack for once. Sick of everything, I’d hurl the book at the window and pull the sheets over my head, sobbing myself to sleep.

A finger travels up my calf, rousing me from sleep. My eyelids flutter, but I’m too tired to keep them open. The bed dips to my left and those fingers slowly push up my nightdress. “Do you like it gentle?” A too-familiar voice asks roughly, and I’ve never had a more brutal wakeup call than having large hands grab my thighs and pull them apart. “The pictures say otherwise.”

There’s a blue-eyed demon hovering above me. I scream.

A hand slaps over my mouth, and Asher makes a strangled sound. “You’re afraid, but you’re wrapping your legs around me.” My gaze darts to his shirtless, toned torso, and I’m mortified to find that my thighs are indeed around him, holding him close. Asher tsk s. “Pretense really isn’t your strong suit.”

I bite his palm in retaliation, even as my hips undulate against the sweet hardness between his legs. His eyes darken and he shuts them, muttering under his breath. “Fuck, you’re a tease.” When his eyes open again, they’re clear. “You pulled me into this miserable dream, Leilani. Wake up.”

I don’t understand what he’s saying.

My skin grows hotter with every second he leans over me, with every inch of his tattooed skin I see, with the growing erection nestling between my thighs. My breasts are heavy and my nipples ache for attention. Wetness pools between my thighs and I gyrate harder, trying to make sense of the fact that this arrogant, murdering prick’s presence unravels me this way.

The hand against my lips draws back abruptly as Asher settles between my thighs, gripping each like a vise. The sight of Asher on his knees with moonlight caught in his hair makes me almost wild with lust. This is hotter than anything I’ve felt before. I’m on fire, and only Asher can douse it.

“Asher…” I rasp, pushing myself up on my elbows and watching as he hikes my dress up until my blue lace panties come into view. “We shouldn’t—” I bite my bottom lip, moaning as his hands wrap around my waistline, toying with th e tiny bows on the sides of my nightdress. “I don’t want this.”

His eyes are like chips of ice, cracking at the ends. “I don’t, either.”

We stare at each other like that for a minute. I move first, but Asher is faster. My lips collide with his in the same moment his fingers graze my skin. I feel my panties slacken as his tongue plunges into my mouth, sliding against mine hotly with an expertise that could only come from experience. It makes me mad to think someone else had him before me. The thought is vile because I don’t even like him, but I don’t dwell on it. It’s hard to when his lips leave mine, trailing kisses down my neck until his teeth are dangerously close to my pulse point. “You smell so good, it’s unreal.”

My clothes come off quickly, almost like magic. His blue eyes stare at my naked body with a feeling too soft for me to read. I pause in my exploration of his chest, unsure. “What?”

A broad, tattooed hand reaches between us. My breath hitches when he takes his time holding each breast and running his hand down my belly, stopping just shy of my folds. Holding my gaze, his finger slides down, parting them. I bite down hard on my bottom lip to halt a moan. He doesn’t break eye contact as he pushes a finger inside me. “Anderson was a fool.”

Another finger enters me, filling up the hollow, aching heat in my core. And then, he hooks both. I mewl, clenching hard around his fingers.

Suddenly, he lifts me, flipping me over so my face presses into the mattress. Asher grips my waist, arching me against his length. “Asher,” I whisper. “This isn’t?— ”

Something soft—a piece of cloth—pushes past my lips, silencing me, and he pushes my head farther into the mattress with a growled order: “Don’t speak, or I’ll remember.”

His grip turns harsh and unforgiving, and I scream into the cloth as his cock plunges into me. It doesn’t matter that I’m so wet I can feel my juices trickling down my thighs. It still hurts. He’s too large, and I’m not ready.

I fall forward, trying to get away, but Asher catches my hands, trapping them behind me. His next thrust has me coated in sweat and tears. It’s too much. I can’t breathe. I try to adjust and relax my inner muscles around him, but when I squeeze again, he grows harder, larger inside me.

He laughs a little, wrapping his arm around my middle and thrusting deeper inside me. I realize that he isn’t fully inside me yet. I am going to die tonight by Asher’s hands.

By the sixth thrust, a strange sound leaves my mouth, one I don’t recognize. Christian never fucked me rough. He was always soft, treating me like I was breakable, fragile. He respected me—at least, while he wasn’t fucking other women. He asked what I wanted and when I wanted it. He never took more than he thought I could offer, and whenever I was wild enough to ask him to go harder, deeper, to choke me, to disrespect me with his lips and cock, he’d still make love to me gently.

My desire for anything rougher died eventually. I loved Chris. Sex with him was always beautiful, even if it was a little boring, like something out of the sweet romantic novels I read.

This is something different…something monstrous. A hunger like nothing I’ve ever felt yawns in the pit of my stomach, and I push back against Asher, taking the last of his le ngth into me. My inner walls burn with pain and pleasure and Asher growls, letting go of my hands. He grabs my hair instead, wrapping it around his fist and raising me by it. He likes my hair, I think.

My back collides with his chest, and another brutal shove makes me clench hard enough to see stars. I moan, but the cloth in my mouth muffles it. He grabs a breast and kneads it as he continues pounding into me with a brutal vengeance. I recognize with every fiber of my being that he hates me. He hates me as much as he wants me…and he is punishing me for it. It makes me lightheaded. I shouldn’t like that. It shouldn’t make me hotter and wetter. It shouldn’t make me reach up to touch my other nipple and pinch it in tandem with his movements.

There’s something seriously wrong with me tonight. Something so out of control I know it can’t be me. This has to be a curse. I’m under a spell and…and I crave the finishing, my ending. I want—no, I need this.

I rub my thumb over the reddened bud as Asher grounds into me, pushing past walls that make me feel a sensation I’ve never felt before. The pressure in my pussy brings tears to my eyes. The sound of his cock ramming into me changes, and it almost feels like… fuck . I think I scream as fluid expels from me and?—

Awareness ripples over me, and I’m violently pulled out of the dream.

My eyes open to soft moonlight spilling into my room. Sweat trickles from my forehead onto the already-drenched sheets. It was a dream. Of course it was. There’s no way I’d be in that situation with Asher.

Then I realize where my fingers are. Horrified, I snatch my hand away from my folds, but it’s already coated with slippery cum. “Hell,” I cuss, utterly disgusted with myself. My insides throb with a desperate need for release.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

I yelp, bolting upright at the sound of Asher’s voice. A wild glance in the direction of the sound, and I see him leaning against the door. It’s a casual stance, but everything about him screams dominance. His presence makes heat wash over my skin, and I ache so badly for the barest of bit of friction, I would come if he so much as touched my cheek.

“H-how did you get in?” I stutter, pulling the sheets over myself as if that can hide the scent of my arousal.

“This is my home.” He pushes off the door and pulls his hands out of his pockets. He’s dressed once again in human formal attire, like he’s just returned from a business meeting. He even has a black tie on to complete the all-black look. “Did you finish?”

Shame makes my cheeks burn. “Huh?”

Asher’s gaze lowers slowly to my fingers, and then to my thighs under the sheet. “Use your words, Leilani. Did you finish? Did those tiny fingers of yours bring as much pleasure as mine did?”

My mouth dries as mortification sears through me. He watched me…while I…he watched me, and somehow he knows I was dreaming about him. Breathing heavily, I say the first thing that pops into my head, attempting to get rid of the unwanted feeling unfurling in my chest.

“Christian. I was dreaming about him, not you. And it wasn’t just his fingers.” I’m rambling nonsense. I know I am, but the words keep tumbling out of me.

Asher nods, his expression devoid of emotions. “I see. ”

And then, he’s gone. One moment, he’s halfway across the room, and the next, a hand clamps down on my exposed ankle and I scream as he pulls me down the edge of the bed and places himself between my thighs. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get off me!”

He glowers at me and his lips pull back into a feral snarl that reveals sharp canines. “I dare you to utter one more lie to your husband and alpha. I dare you.”

My hand darts out, but I’m too short to reach his face. So I punch his chest with as much strength as I can garner—which means nothing, because Asher is cut from something stronger than adamantine. “You aren’t my alpha, and I’d rather have Christian in my bed than you! I could never want you!” That sounds like a lie even to me, but my rage speaks faster than I can think.

Asher stares at me with unnerving calm, but I feel his anger in his trembling fingers. “Never is a very long time, especially when you’re trapped under the same roof as me. Lie to yourself all you want if it makes you sleep better at night, but it won’t change reality.” He catches my chin between his fingers, pushing my face up roughly until all I can see is him. “You belong to me, and eventually, you’ll understand how good that feels.”

Fear wars against lust, but lust wins. Since when do I want territorial, murderous alpha bastards? Since when does the thought of being owned by him make my pussy quiver? Stubbornly, I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he pushes two fingers into my mouth.

Instinctively, my tongue swirls around their tips. His eyes light up. He seems pleased—I’ve done something right. “Is this what you wanted?” His fingers slide out and push back in.

Don’t do it, Lei. Don’t you dare!

I suck on his fingers. My body, the traitorous bitch, has sold me out to the devil. Amused, Asher continues the movement, mimicking thrusts in a different part of me. I don’t realize I’ve spread my thighs wider until he raises his knee and rubs it against my clitoris. My answering moan is guttural.

His free hand wraps around my neck firmly, but not painfully, and something about the position makes me clench my thighs together. I moan against his fingers as he adds a third. My hips buck against his knee. I grind against him desperately, ecstasy just a handful of thrusts away. Another hard suck, and Asher makes a sound that’s a mix of impatience, anger, and desire. “This is how you’ll strangle my dick when I fuck your mouth.” It’s not a question. It’s an order.

He says such vile things, and Goddess forgive me for liking them.

“You’re close,” he says, and his fingers touch the back of my throat when I don’t respond. On reflex, I bite him. I should have known better. Wanting to hurt him never goes my way. He exhales sharply, and when I see the bulge in his pants growing, I know that my defiance and bouts of violence turn him on way more than my obedience.

That cripples me with fear, and his nostrils flare at the new scent in the air. He smiles. It is mischievous, wicked, and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Raise your skirts for me, wife.”

My hands move of their own accord, and my skirt is bunched around my waist in no time. I have no underwear underneath, and Asher’s eyes darken at the sight of me, bare against him, my arousal a dark stain on his trousers. “Touch yourself,” he murmurs hoarsely, his fingers pumping harder and faster in my mouth. A sound climbs up my throat, a plea— but I have no idea what I’m begging for. Do I want more from him, or nothing?

My fingers brush against his thigh, and he stiffens as I push a finger into myself. My eyes shut and I moan around his fingers. I think of his cock thrusting deep inside me and I push another finger in, panting. My world narrows down to his knee against my clitoris, my fingers buried as deep as they can go, and his fingers fucking my mouth.

When I find release, it’s with a sharp cry. Something snaps inside me, and the white-hot surge of pleasure threatens to take me apart. I reach forward to grasp something, anything at all, to save me. I fist Asher’s shirt, pulling him into me and holding on for dear life.

He cradles the back of my head gently as his lips brush the top of my head, my temple, behind my ear. His tenderness is almost loving, and I let myself fall into it.

But that’s a mistake.

Agony tears through my neck as his razor-sharp canines sink through flesh and muscles. A strangled cry erupts from my throat as a fire that obliterates everything in its path burns through my body. If I hadn’t felt this before, I’d think I was dying. For a moment, I can’t breathe, and darkness overwhelms my vision. The world ceases to exist and my heartbeat accelerates until I think it might explode out of my chest.

I jerk, my fingers digging into Asher’s skin as the fire morphs into something else: inexplicable, insuppressible want.

My eyes open to streams of sunlight, and my throat is dry and hoarse, like I’ve been screaming all night long. It was just another dream, like all the others I’ve had since the wedding. They’ve all been so vivid and perverted that I think being in the Dark Moon Pack is filling me with the same darkness that Asher exudes.

My legs tremble as I get out of bed and grab the plastic water jug on the nightstand—Goddess forbid they give me a glass, lest I break it and stab Asher or Enya with its shards. Pain shoots from my neck and down my arm. The jug slips through my fingers, warm water splashing on my bare toes, and I fall into the puddle, clutching my shoulder.

My fingers come away wet and sticky as I trace the outline of what feels like a bite on the hollow between my neck and shoulder. I freeze, cold fear numbing me as I stare at my bloody fingers. My head snaps back to the sheets. They’re stained with drops of blood. My heart stops completely when I see my panties on the floor. They’re ripped at the side.

Eyes wide, I touch my skin, my hair, my lips, my neck, my throat. Surely, I would know if…

I lift my dress, praying to the Goddess that I don’t find bruises from his hands clamping around my thighs. I find nothing, but that doesn’t even start to calm me. His scent is on my sheets, my skin, my very intact nightdress, and when I reach for my panties, they smell like him, too.

He was here.

Asher was in my room, and the bastard fucking marked me.

That begs the question: were either of my dreams real? Which one of them actually happened? Did Asher and I…have sex?