Page 8 of Autumn be His Wife (Alphas Fall Hard Collection #4)

Dusty

Can’t believe this is real. Can’t believe I’ve got an angel sprawled against my bedsheets while my fingers are pruning up against her slick folds.

I wasted no time moving around, shedding her of everything covering her bottom half. Now, I’ve got nothing but the moonlight guiding me, and all it’s doing is making me wonder if this is all really happening.

If I blink a few times, will she disappear? I don’t risk it.

Spreading her thighs further apart, I watch past heavy lids as she moans again against her fingers. Realizing the cabin isn’t occupied by just us, her poor attempt at hiding her pleasure easily slips through the cracks of her fingers.

I didn’t need to bury a finger inside of her to guess she’s a virgin. However, the way her body is jerking and her thighs are trembling, I’m close to believing she’s never felt pleasure before. Something like that can’t possibly be true.

As unbelievable as it is, I have to lighten up on her clit when her walls already try to clamp down.

I don’t need to work a second finger in her. After all, I’m only meant to get her off. But my cock is soaking through, and just thinking about burying myself deep between her thighs has me moving without thought.

A groan leaves her next as I thrust my fingers inside, deep enough to meet my knuckles.

Drinking in her appearance, my cock jerks at the way her chest rises with each breath. Still hidden beneath silk, I lick my bottom lip.

“Unbutton your shirt for me, I want to see what’s beneath.” Curling my fingers, my thumb nudges her clit. “Please, Piper.”

I’m willing to beg if that’s what she wants. Anything to see what she’s been keeping to herself.

Remembering how to use her hands, she nods her head and reaches for the bottom button in the long row.

As her fingers shake, she undoes one button at a time.

Slowly, I start to see inches of pale, flawless skin.

When she starts slowing down once the air starts tickling her bare stomach, hinting at an impossible sense of self-consciousness, I distract her by teasing a third finger.

I love the way she looks. Wouldn’t change a single damn thing about it. The only thing that could make this better would be to see her wrapped up in my clothes instead of her own.

When she reaches the last button, I’m the one pushing the shirt open. The moment I get an eyeful of her breasts, I’m dizzy.

My breath catches. They’re perfect. Both breasts are pale and full. They lift gently with her ragged breaths, topped with nipples flushed pink. More than a handful, I know it before I even move, the kind I can really wrap my fingers around.

I cup one, and the weight of it is a perfect, heavy warmth against my palm. Her breath hitches. My thumb strokes over that tight, rosy peak, and a shudder runs through her. I can’t wait any longer.

Leaning down, I close my mouth over the other, and feeling her fingers tugging and pulling my hair is my reward.

My tongue flicks and circles the hardening nub, tasting her skin, feeling it pebble into a desperate point against me. I suckle gently, and her hips buck against my hand, a silent plea for more.

I give it to her, driving my fingers deeper inside her as I worship her with my mouth, lost in the taste of her.

Am I an evil man for wanting to lick her all over to figure out when all this sweetness ends?

“I’m the first man to taste you like this, aren’t I, Piper?” Can’t recognize my voice as the question rolls off my tongue. “How many firsts are you going to let me take?”

There’s one first in particular I want to take, and it’s hard to ignore the thought when my cock is leaking and my head is swimming.

“I want you to have me. All of me.”

My head is swimming with her, with the taste of her, a sweetness I’m certain has no end. The confession she just breathed into the space between us echoes.

The words land like a physical blow, and I go utterly still, my mouth pausing. My blood, already roaring in my veins, seems to stutter to a halt. I lift my head, my lips glistening from her, and search her face. This can’t be right.

“Piper,” I rasp, the name raw in my throat. “Are you sure? Did I hear you right?”

Her eyes, more serious than I’ve ever seen them, hold mine. There’s no hesitation, no flicker of doubt. She nods, a single, definitive motion that sends a bolt of pure, undiluted want straight to my groin.

Before I can form another thought, her hand finds my wrist. Her fingers are small, but her grip is firm, pulling my hand away from her pussy.

“I’m sure,” she whispers, and the sound is a plea and a demand all at once. “I want you to show me.”

A groan tears from me, a sound of pure agony. I wrench my wrist from her grasp. My chest is heaving, my heart a wild, frantic drum against my ribs. Every instinct is screaming at me to protect her, to go slow, to be careful with this fragile, precious gift she’s offering.

But the look on her face… the trust there… it undoes me completely.

My hands, trembling slightly, go to the waistband of my pajama pants. I shove them down, just enough to free myself. My cock springs free, thick and aching, the tip already slick with my own need. I grit my teeth so hard I fear they might crack.

The control it takes not to just sink into her is a physical pain. I can’t tell myself no. Not this time.

I move over her, bracing my weight on one arm. With my other hand, I guide myself to her, the broad head of my cock nudging against her sensitive, swollen clit.

She gasps, a sharp, delicious intake of air, and her whole body shudders beneath me.

The feel of her there, so hot and wet and ready, is almost enough to make me lose it right there.

“I don’t—” I grind out, the words strained, “—want to hurt you.”

With wide eyes, she lifts her hand so she can graze my cheek. “I trust you. Even if it does cause a little pain, I can take it. I’m strong.”

There’s something in the tone of her voice that makes me want to believe her. From the way she carries herself, like she’s already had the world on her shoulders, I know I’m thinking too much into this.

Nodding my head, my brows furrow together as I concentrate on guiding my tip toward her entrance.

I move then, a cautious retreat before sinking back in, a fraction deeper this time. The resistance is less, and her body softens, accepting.

A sharp, quiet gasp escapes her lips, but her eyes never leave mine. They’re wide, a little dazed, but clear. There’s no panic there, only an amazed look in her eyes as she experiences something for the first time.

Again and again, I work my way deeper until I’m hitting her barrier.

Each shallow thrust is a negotiation, a gentle persuasion. I watch every flicker of feeling cross her face—the brief pinch, the slow-dawning wonder, the way her lips part on a soft, groaning exhale.

The world narrows to the slick, tight heat of her, the scent of her skin, the sound of our ragged breathing.

Then I’m there, my hips flush against hers, buried to the hilt. I go completely still, my entire body trembling with the effort of holding back.

She is everywhere, all around me, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

Her inner muscles flutter around me, a startled, involuntary pulse that nearly breaks my concentration. A low groan is torn from my throat.

I see the faintest trace of discomfort in the tightness at the corners of her eyes, and I freeze, every instinct screaming to pull away, to fix it.

“I’m okay,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “Dusty, I’m okay.”

She proves it by wiggling her hips, the smallest, most devastating shift that steals the last of my sanity. The concern, the hesitation, it all shatters. The leash I had on my control snaps.

Then I’m moving. Not the careful, measured strokes from before, but a deep, rolling rhythm that she meets with a soft cry that’s pure pleasure. Her legs tighten around my waist, pulling me deeper, and her fingers dig into my shoulders, holding on as we find a new, frantic pace.

The initial sharpness is gone, melted away into a building heat that threatens to consume us both.

When Piper pulls me down, she shows just how eager she is as her breath tickles my lips. Hardly any hesitation holds her back from leaning up to press her lips to mine.

The kiss is a desperate, hungry meeting of our mouths, a perfect mirror to the rhythm of our bodies. Her lips are soft and insistent, tasting of salt and something uniquely her.

I slant my mouth over hers, deepening the kiss, my tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers as I drive into her again, and again, each thrust earning a muffled moan that vibrates against my lips.

We’re a mess of gasps and shared breath, our bodies moving in a slick blur. I can feel the tension coiling tight in my gut, a pressure building that’s becoming impossible to hold back.

Her nails score my back, a sharp, sweet pain that pushes me closer to the edge.

“Piper,” I groan against her mouth, my voice ragged. “I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“I can feel it too,” she gasps, her hips bucking wildly to meet mine. “Don’t stop, Dusty. Please.”

That’s all it takes. Her plea shatters the last of my control. I bury my face in the curve of her neck, my thrusts losing all rhythm, becoming frantic. With a guttural cry, I spill into her, my entire body seizing up in a wave of blinding, white-hot release.

Beneath me, Piper arches off the bed, a sharp, broken cry tearing from her throat as her own climax crashes over her.

I swoop down to swallow it all before she wakes up the ranch next door.

Her inner muscles clench around me, milking every last shuddering pulse from my body until I’m spent, collapsing onto her, my weight supported on my elbows.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of our harsh, ragged breathing and the frantic hammering of our hearts. She clings to me, her arms locked around my neck, her legs still wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me inside her.

I don’t pull out. The thought doesn’t even occur to me. To separate from this feels like a violation of the perfect peace we’ve found.

As the world slowly swims back into focus, I nuzzle her neck, pressing a damp, tender kiss to her racing pulse.

“You okay?” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “Sore? I lost myself for a minute there.”

She shakes her head against my shoulder.

“No,” she whispers, her voice thick with spent pleasure. “Not sore. The opposite. I’m…really happy.”

A slow, deep smile spreads across my face, a feeling of pure, unadulterated rightness settling in my chest. I lift my head to look at her. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her lips kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed. She’s never looked more beautiful.

I lower my mouth to hers again, this kiss softer, slower, a silent seal on the promise we’d just made with our bodies. It’s a kiss of gratitude, of wonder, of a connection so new and profound it steals the air from my lungs all over again.