Page 4 of Breaking the Alpha (Serpent’s Tongue Ink #2)

A ngelina never minded making the first move with guys. Especially with guys who were doing their damndest to be gentlemen despite their bodies turning against them.

And River was definitely doing his damndest to behave.

Even with her offer on the table—his hand frozen mid-scratch on his jaw and her skirt exposing most of her thigh—his eyes were on hers.

“I hope you know I’m not expecting anything here,” he said slowly, his breathing heavier and more ragged than it was before she showed him a sample of her former job.

“I’m not saying I’m not a thousand percent on board with the idea, though, because I am really on board with it. Really. Really on board.”

She leaned against the counter with a smile. “Would you like the full experience? Because you, River, are a guy who needs it.”

He let out a strangled chuckle. “I am, am I?”

“Yes, you are.” She hooked one finger into the chiffon knot between her breasts and nodded toward the recliner. “Take a seat over there.”

He obeyed without argument, his stalking movement across the floor sultry and panther-like. “This good?”

Humming in agreement, she spun one of the stools around and sat, facing him as he watched her from the other side of the living space. “Here are the parameters: you stay there, and I may or may not mentally unmute you if you speak. I’ll decide as I go.”

His brows lifted. “Did you just politely tell me to sit down and shut up?”

Tilting her head, she licked her lips and slid her fingers along the end of the tie.

“Sometimes we need to be reminded how important it is to simply sit back and enjoy something without feeling we have to reciprocate or rationalize our enjoyment.” She undid the knot slowly.

“Not everything is a debt needing to be settled.”

Slipping one shoulder free, she skimmed her fingers along her skin from her throat down to her wrist, taking her time to ensure she had River’s full attention.

“We’re programmed to always want more and more,” she continued, easing her shrug off her other shoulder and trailing it down her arm inch by inch until it pooled on the floor.

“We amass experiences we haven’t taken the time to savor. ”

She crossed her legs and ran her hands through her hair, tousling it gently while she watched him watching her, his chest rising and falling as he ran a hand through his own hair, subconsciously mimicking her.

Bringing her fingers down the neckline of her tank, she took a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly until River fell into sync.

“This,” she said, pinching the fabric between her fingers and rubbing them together, “is a perfect example. Noticing the softness against my skin every time I slip it on it is amassing the experience.” Flattening her palms, she slid her hands along her body to the hem.

“Spending the time to fully appreciate the silkiness against my hands throughout the day is savoring. Does this make sense?”

When he swallowed and nodded, she pulled the shirt up and over her head, letting it fall from her fingertips before she traced the cups of her pink lace bra at a snail’s pace, waiting until his lips parted before she continued.

“Of course, we can’t discuss savoring without discussing selfishness,” she purred, as she stood and slid her thumb along the band of her skirt that was stretching across her hips.

“Language loves selfishness, so we do too. We take pleasure. Give pleasure.” She undid the buttons one by one, pausing in between.

“Always trading.” With the last fastener undone, she unwrapped the skirt, dropping it onto the growing pile on the floor. “Always keeping score.”

River shifted his position in the recliner and adjusted the bulge in his jeans, his hand staying a fraction longer than necessary.

“But we can eliminate the trade if we decide to experience and savor.” She scratched her nails gently up along her ribs.

“Right now, my skin feels cool, so every touch of my warm hands brings a different sensation than it would if I was running hot.” Pressing her palms flat, she moved them down her body to her thighs, watching as River’s hands came to rest on his own powerful thighs.

“There’s no taking or giving, neither you nor I are losing anything. ”

Hooking her thumbs in the delicate lace band of her underwear, she took her time slithering out of them.

“We so often search for permission to enjoy, waiting for others to act before we react.” She slid a bra strap off with one hand, the other skimming along her bare stomach.

“Right now, you’re watching me savor the sensation of my hands on my skin and you’re thinking about it.

” Reaching back, she unhooked it and let it slide off her body.

“You’re thinking about how my hands would feel on your body. ”

He inhaled sharply and let out a ragged breath as he nodded, his own fingers absently caressing his thighs through his jeans.

“You’re thinking about putting your own hands on me.

” She trailed her fingers up and down the inside of her arms, letting him get lost in the repetitive motions.

“And you’re seeking permission, River. Whether it’s you touching me—” She grazed her thumb along her bottom lip and he followed suit without hesitation.

“Me touching you—” Brushing the back of her hand across her cheek, she closed her eyes.

“Me touching me—” Sliding her hand down the side of her body, she dug her fingers lightly into her hip. “Or you touching you.”

*

River palmed his aching cock through his jeans, the pressure doing little to release the electric energy thrumming in every nerve of his body.

He’d been to his fair share of strip clubs. Hell, he’d even had a lap dance or two.

But there wasn’t a pro dancer in all of California who could compete with the show Angelina was putting on.

Whatever witchcraft she was spinning had him panting.

His heart pounded while his eyes locked onto the excruciatingly slow movements of her hands moving over her skin.

Her voice worked its way so far into his head it felt like it belonged there, as though her words were an extension of his own thoughts.

He popped the button of his fly and slid the zipper down, relieving some of the discomfort keeping him from falling completely into the moment she was creating.

And what a mistake that was.

Without the distraction of metal zipper teeth, he was free to focus solely on Angelina.

She was sitting on a stool across the room, her long legs crossed, her hair falling in tangled waves across her breasts.

And although she was naked a few scant feet away, his eyes were locked on the movements of her hands, his mind tuned into her voice.

Her fingers slid along her shoulders and throat, trailing down her arm and up again over and over.

She spoke about the interchanging of wants and needs, about the chill in the air, about the gentle grazing of her own hair brushing across her spine.

Pushing the band of his boxers down, he wrapped his hand around his erection, watching her face for her reaction. When her only acknowledgement was a quick inhale amid her steady breathing, he slid his hand down his length, his grip loose while he mimicked her own delicate caresses.

Aside from her nudity, there was nothing overtly sexual in her actions or her words. But the effect she was having on him was intense, his cock hot and heavy in his hand, pulsing with every light touch.

She led him with her own movements, his hands matching the pressure and speed of hers as she alternated between fingers feathering along her collarbone and flattened palms sliding along her thigh.

She was providing him with a map of her body, showing him where and how she liked to be touched: grazing her fingers along the inside of her arms, digging them into her hips, splaying her hands across her stomach.

Through it all, she continued to describe the rising heat in her body, the sensation of the air-conditioning sending a cool breeze across her skin.

He became hyper aware of his own reaction to the chill in the room, more in tune with the sensations thrumming through him from head to toe, building in intensity with every passing minute.

There was a subtle shift in her focus as she wrapped her arms around herself and her hands grasped her shoulders. Her fingers dug in with slow, practiced circles. He followed her lead without hesitation, tightening his grip on his cock and duplicating the motions.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. “I’m so goddamn close.”

And as if a switch had been flipped, she stopped, folded her hands in her lap, and smiled sweetly. “Would you like me to break the fourth wall now?”

He blinked. “What?”

“The fourth wall,” she repeated as she stood, reached into her purse, pulled out a small foil packet, and walked toward him. “That invisible divide between me, the performer, and you, the audience. Would you like me to break it?”

His brain was struggling to understand her words, but it was definitely able to pick up on the context clues when she straddled his hips. “Break it. Destroy it, smash it, blow it up, whatever it’s gonna take for me to be inside you.”

Licking her lips, she torn the condom pack open with her teeth, gripped his cock, and sheathed him with expert precision. Then she lined him up with her entrance and sunk onto him with a sigh. “I’m still leading the show, okay?”

“Yeah, Angel,” he ground out through clenched teeth as he fought back the urge to come. “I just need a second.”

She tsk’d and slid one hand into his hair while she rolled her hips. “Mind over matter, River. Focus on one sensation at a time until you’re ready to take it all in. Now keep those hands on the armchair.”