Page 29 of Coco and the Misfits (The Candyverse #4)

COCO

B ehold my new culinary creation. A cultural experiment with Thai green curry paste and prawns, rice and miso. I saw a recipe somewhere and decided to put my own spin on it.

Hey, I’m a damn good cook. It smells delicious. Tastes even better. I’m tempted to pour myself a bowl and slurp it down, but Atticus is about to come home and we always have dinner together.

We have fallen into a routine, like an old married couple. Gentle, kind of tender. Simple. And chaste.

On cue, his scent reaches me and I turn around.

“Evening,” Atticus says and I smile. Standing there, hands in the pants pockets of his tailored gray suit, he’s silver all over. My silver fox.

He always enters so stealthily, I hardly ever hear him, but he’s always punctual and I’ve been expecting him.

“Come, sit.” I take my headphones off and gesture theatrically at the spot I have set up with a placemat and silverware. “I hope you like Thai food.”

“Love Thai food.”

“Then you’re in luck. I cook the best Thai food.”

“I know.” He says it calmly. Not teasing. He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it and taking his seat at the island. He dominates the space with his large shoulders, his height, his intense presence. His energy is dark, reminding me of Ryder, but the focus he gives me is all Zach.

Ryder and Zach, whom I should forget about.

Okay, not Zach. Not until I unravel the mystery of what happened the past two times. Plus, I’ve known him for a while. You don’t give up on people like that.

You should give up on people who waffle, though. People you aren’t sure whether they want to be more than friends or not, who only want you for one kiss, one night. Find mates who love you, and indeed love you the way you are. Don’t settle for less.

That’s my second rule, one I haven’t had the chance to apply yet, due to a certain lack of available alphas in my life.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“Yeah. What did you make?” Atticus asks and smiles, one of those rare, open smiles he rarely gives.

“Coco’s Thai special,” I say with a straight face. “Extra points if you can guess what went in it.”

“A challenge. I love challenges.”

“I bet you do.” When a silver brow goes up, I hurry to say, “With the job you do. Being in business and all.”

He nods but that beautiful smile fades. He always looks good, and he’s pleasant in a reserved, slightly distant way, but tonight he looks… ruffled? As if a black cloud is hanging over him.

“Is it work?” I whisper.

He blinks. “What?”

“The thing bothering you. Is it work? Is everything all right?”

“Now that you’re here, everything is fine.”

He keeps saying things like that, making my heart flutter, but he never follows through. That’s your final warning, Coco: let go.

Still, I come around the island and set his bowl down. “Wanna talk about today?”

He usually doesn’t. But tonight he hesitates, glancing at me as if to verify I really want to know. “It’s boring business stuff.”

“You can tell me while eating,” I decide and go back to the stove to serve another bowl. Mushrooms, veggies, noodles, my dish has it all. I find myself wanting to make nutritious food for him, worried he doesn’t eat well during the day. Also, delicious food because homemade food is the best.

It’s the omega in me, I suppose, who likes cooking and baking and looking after people. Nothing to do with this specific alpha, this strong, beautiful, sexy man sitting at the table with me for a quiet dinner.

I sit beside him and dig in. I’m hungry after running around all day and cleaning his spotless apartment. Hey, I still clean it even if it’s so clean I doubt he spends a minute here except for this dinner ritual with me.

He grabs his spoon and fork and digs in, too. Then he moans, a deep rumbling sound that has me almost choking on my food. “Fuck.”

“What is it? Too spicy?”

“It’s perfect. So damn good. Never tasted anything better.”

A big smile breaks over my face. “Seriously?”

“Yes. But also, don’t you know I’d eat anything you cooked, even burned toast?”

No, no. He can’t keep doing this to me, saying such sweet, hot things, so I decide I didn’t hear this. “Tell me about your day.”

He groans, putting his utensils down and shaking his head. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t sign up for this.”

I give him a steady look. “You must think me very shallow, to accept so much from you and not care if you’ve had a bad day.”

His mouth falls open. It’s funny. I don’t think I’ve ever caught him by surprise before. “Coco,” he whispers.

“Eat your food. It’s growing cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He digs his spoon into the bowl, then gives a quiet laugh. “You’re bossy for an omega.”

“So I’ve been told,” I whisper, and my heart aches because I want to tell him that officially I’m not what he thinks.

Would he care? Does it matter when he wants nothing to do with me beyond this?

“Just know I’m interested in listening, if you think it might help.

Even if it’s just to get it off your chest. I’m interested, Ace.

I want to know about your day. Deal with it.

“Calm down, kitten.” There’s a growl in his gravelly voice that strokes deep inside me, making me shiver. “I only thought you might find it boring.”

“That’s because we never have meaningful conversations,” I grumble. “You ask me about my day and that’s all. You don’t want to know how I feel or get really involved with me.”

“But—”

“A friend would listen to you, even if you don’t want more,” I tell him. “And I may be the cleaning help, but I owe you.”

His gaze darkens. “You don’t owe me a thing. Don’t ever think that way. I like you, that’s all.”

“Then accept that I like you, too, and do what you want with that.”

“Dammit, Coco. You’re making this hard.”

“This? What is this ?” Involuntarily, my gaze drops to his lap and oh boy. Yeah, that looks hard.

“This… being around you.”

I start. I climb off my stool so fast I almost fall over and drag down the hem of my short skirt. “Fine. Got it. Then I’ll leave you to your dinner.”

“What? Coco, wait.” He’s on his feet, too, reaching for me. He catches my hands. “I said, wait.”

“I don’t know if I should,” I whisper. “It’s hard for me, too, okay? I want you. If you don’t want me…”

“Don’t want you? I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

“Then what…?”

His mouth crashes against mine and all I can think of is, Finally! Yeah! Then he grabs me, lifts me and I wrap my legs around him as his tongue demands entrance and tangles with mine.

His large hands grab my ass, squeezing, and his beard grates on my chin. I slide my hands up his corded neck and bury my fingers into his short, gray hair.

I can’t believe it’s finally happening, that he’s kissing me. I moan against his lips, and he bites at my lips, licks inside my mouth, grunts and grips me more tightly.

That growl never fades, vibrating in my mouth, in my body, in my core. I realize he’s walking as he kisses me but where I expect him to throw me onto the kitchen island and fuck me there like Ryder had done, he keeps going.

Keeps going all the way to the floor-to-ceiling windows of the sitting area with their amazing view over the city, though I couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Another day,” he growls, “I’ll have you put your hands on the glass and press your tits to it. I want to pleasure you like this, before I fuck you to kingdom come.”

“Kinky. Ace?—”

“But now? I’ll fuck you right here, with your back to the glass, so that anyone looking up will see that luscious ass, see me fucking you against the window.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me.”

“I’ll fuck you dirty. This is your last chance to back out.”

“I’m not backing out,” I whisper, my arms tight around his neck. “Take me. I want it.”

“Little omega,” he grunts, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I only want your cock,” I say boldly, lifting my chin.

“And you’ll have it. But can you take it? Are you wet enough for me?”

“God, Ace,” I snap, “I’ve been wet for you since the first time I met you.”

That earns me a throaty chuckle. “Little minx.”

“Big bad alpha,” I throw back and he laughs some more, his eyes darkening. He’s still holding my ass, pressing me to his muscled stomach, not letting me feel what he packs below, though what glimpses I managed to catch of his crotch in those elegant, tailored slacks were kind of intimidating.

What if he’s right to question me about being able to take him? What if I need some foreplay? A plug, maybe? The largest you can buy.

“You should worry,” he says, reading my face easily. “Even without a knot, I’m too big for alpha standards. But I’ll go slow. And you say stop at any moment, is that clear?”

“But—”

“At any moment. I’m not in a rut. And even if I was, I’d force myself to stop if you changed your mind for any reason. All right?”

“All right,” I answer, my voice faint. God, he’s right, what did I get myself into?

Though after Ryder’s pierced cock, surely Atticus’ can’t be that much harder to take, right?

Wrong.

I realize my mistake quickly. Propping my back against the window, he lifts my skirt and pulls my panties to the side so he can push two thick fingers into me.

I squirm. I didn’t lie, I’m damn wet for him, but it takes me a moment to adjust and take them.

“Little omega,” he croons. “If you can’t take these, then how the hell will you take my cock?”

Shit. He starts stroking me inside and my breath leaves me as the discomfort turns to pleasure. Yeah.

“Wet. Soaking wet.” His lashes lower. “You weren’t lying. But you’re so tight.”

“I can take you,” I whisper. “I want it.”

Still stroking his fingers inside me, he gazes down and into my eyes. “We fuck,” he says. “That’s what you want. No flowers, no romantic dinners. No making love on my bed.”

“I... yes. I don’t...”

Pleasure is building in my belly, making it hard to think, but right now, yes, all I want is for him to fuck me hard, hurt me a little and scratch that itch.

It’s the first time he’s acting on the attraction, proving he does want me. I can’t think past that. Past the need for him, the relief at having him touch me and look at me with desire… Past the need to come.

He strokes me until I’m panting and on the edge, then slowly draws his fingers out of me.

“Ace, please.”

But he lifts those fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. “Fuck, so sweet...”

He’s holding me up against the window with one hand and his arm doesn’t even tremble. His strength is making me hornier than ever. God, I love alphas.

Duh.

He reaches down between us to grip his cock, which I have yet to see, and positions it at my entrance.

“Slow,” he says in that gravelly voice. “I’ll go slow.”

“No need... Oh!”

The head is so wide I moan as he breaches me. God, his cock is thick. So much thicker than Ryder’s. I’m spread wide but it’s not enough. I unhook one of my legs from around him and he grabs it and lifts it over one of his shoulders.

Then he pushes into me, his length dragging against my inner walls.

My head falls back, thumping lightly on the glass. It feels good, too good. Uncomfortably big but also perfect. I’m not a slut for pain, but it’s not painful. The friction, the fullness, it works for me.

It works so damn well. I moan as he thrusts a little deeper, filling me up inch by inch. How many inches? Too damn many.

I love it.

And I love even more watching his face twist with the pleasure of taking me, the intensity in his expression, the gritting of teeth and swallowed curses. Seeing how affected he is. How hard his desire for me hits him.

But soon I lose my focus, especially when he starts to move. I doubt he’s bottomed out. He’s thrusting in and out of me, slow, deep thrusts that steal my ability to form coherent thoughts.

Held in place, his hands leaving now bruises on my hips, he bows over me and fucks me hard, my body jolting with each thrust.

The pressure is building and building and I’m still holding onto him, my hands having slipped down to his arms, and my nails are digging into his skin. I mean, I’m holding on for dear life. He’s fucking me like he wants to break the window and send both of us hurtling through the air.

The window holds, though, and his thrusts become fast and shallow.

I’m shaking, almost there at the finish line, my hips rocking but unable to get any traction in this position.

He’s controlling me fully, and I both love and hate that.

I want to be able to set my own pace, to ride him, but he’s in full alpha mode and only grips my hips harder.

Then he lifts me up a little, changing the angle, and I all but scream as the pleasure skyrockets. I’m coming, and I swear I see stars as the pressure explodes in my belly.

He thrusts twice more, grunting each time like a wounded animal, then pulls out and comes all over my pussy and thighs.

It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced. The insane, fully clothed sex against the tall windows, his growls and grunts, his cum all over me.

Not sure what that says about my sexuality, but I like being dominated, and that’s no surprise. I’m feisty, but in my heart, at least, I’m an omega through and through.

This feels like a marking. He’s marking his territory, marking me. A temporary scent marking, unlike a bite which is permanent, but it still makes me purr.

If I kiss him again, if I lick him, will he be mine?

Then suddenly, he unhooks my legs from his massive body and lets me slide down the glass. My feet find the floor but my knees buckle. He keeps me upright, his brows drawing together.

“This,” he says, “was a fucking mistake.”