Page 15 of Delta (Alpha #12)

"Till now," she murmurs. "Definitely questioning it now."

"Fair enough, yeah." I gesture at her. "So. Where to?"

She sighs, looking at me. "Lyon. But…Rush?"

My heart hammers when she says my name like that. Soft. Hesitant. "Don't fuck me over. Please. Okay? I'm starting to like you, a little bit."

Fuck me.

You can't like me. I'm a bastard. I'm ruining your life. I'm fucking you over. Can't you see it? Can't you sense it?

All I say, though, is: "I've got you, love."

Not a lie. I do have her. Just…not how she thinks.

We board the train for Lyon forty-five minutes later.

Within ten minutes of leaving the station, she's nodding off.

Her head slowly tilts toward me. Rests on my shoulder. I don't like how this feels: right. Perfect. Good. Warm in my chest. Hot in my belly. Boiling in my balls. Just her—her scent, her warmth, her courage.

I hate myself for this. I think I always will.

The world is a cruel, unfair place. Some days, I wish I hadn't made it out of Afghanistan, or any of the other places I should've and could've died.

I let my arm curl around Bryn's shoulders protectively, and I close my eyes and I let myself pretend that we're a couple heading to Lyon for a holiday. Me and my girl.

I doze off.

When I bolt awake, Bryn's head is on my lap and she's curled up in a tight little ball on the seat beside me. Fuck, this is bad. Too close. Too real. Too tempting.

Her eyes flutter, lift to mine. Soft brown like pools of melted chocolate. She's got a bit of drool at the corner of her lip.

I brush it away with my thumb, and her cheeks darken with a blush. The tips of her ears, too. Fuckin' adorable. Turns my heart to goo.

She slides upright, staying close to me. Pushed against me. Her tits are firm against my chest, her breath hot on my cheek, my chin.

No, girl, no. Bad plan. The face is a lie. The looks hide a black soul. Don't believe me.

I'm a horrible piece of shit, though.

I don't stop her.

Don't move.

I pull her closer. My hand slides down her back, rests on her waist. Glides to her hip. A soft breath leaves her plump lips when I palm her ass—and my god, what an ass. Taut as a drum, a nice big handful each spot, plump and juicy. Just perfect. Like the rest of her.

God, I'm a monster: I fucking kiss her.

Her mouth is warm and wet and soft and inviting; from the first touch of my lips to hers, I'm gone.

My cock goes hard as a steel beam instantly, and when she lets out a quiet groan as my tongue traces across her lips, my cock throbs, twitches.

She stretches against me, hands winding around my neck, fingers scraping against the shaved skin at the back of my head.

Bryn twists into me, pressing a thigh over my crotch, resting the weight of it on my hard, aching cock.

The friction and pressure are a tantalizing tease, ripping a soft snarl from me.

I flex against her, driving myself against her leg, clawing my hand into the curve of her ass.

And just like that, she's straddling me on the bench, both hands on the back of my head, cupping, fingers dimpling, nails softly scratching.

No one's ever held me like this while kissing me—so intimately, with such tender affection, as if…I don't know. It makes my heart pound and my stomach fall away and rise into my throat all at once, makes my hunger for her naked body ravenous and undeniable.

I shift her so she's straddling my thigh, pressing her center against my quad.

Plunge my tongue into her mouth and devour her whimper, grab her ass in both of my hands and grind her against my leg.

Her whimper becomes a groan, and she breaks the kiss, gasping as she rocks on my thigh, seeking the right combination of friction and pressure.

She removed her jacket and jumper when we settled into our compartment, so when her t-shirt rides up with her movement, it bares the skin at the small of her back.

My hands find that sliver of warmth and seek more.

Skate up her back, roaming from shoulders to small and back.

Her jeans gap at the back as she leans into me, and my hands, without consulting me first, dive into the space between garment and body, finding her lush, firm flesh.

I groan in wonder and delight at the way her ass fills my hands.

Her gasps are hoarse and quiet as she rocks against my leg; I press up against her movement, give her something to move against. Meet her rocking rhythm, helping her move with my hands on the bare flesh of her ass, her mouth slipping and sliding against mine with stuttering, gasping kisses.

Harder, faster.

Fuck, she's going to come.

My cock pulsates with arousal, aches, crushed and bent against the prison of my zipper.

I'd do any manner of horrible things to have her hands wrapped around me, or better yet, that sweet, sassy, sarcastic mouth.

I dare not even dream of having her ride me, having her pussy clamping down on me as we come together.

She rocks on my leg, her kisses going staccato, pausing as she loses focus on the kiss to zero in on her building climax.

"Rush," she murmurs, panting. "I…oh…oh god."

I bring my lips to her ear. "Let go for me, Beautiful. Show me what you've got."

She grinds on me desperately, clutching at my head. "I…I don't know if I can. Not like this."

"Sure you can, sweetheart."

"I…I need…" She trails off, whimpering.

"Need what? Tell me."

"More. I can't. Not like this."

"More what?" I nip at her earlobe, fit my hand against her belly; she sucks in, but there's no chance I'm getting my big hand into the narrow space between her belly and her fly.

"Rush," she breathes, rocking and grinding and rubbing, antsy and desperate. "Fuck."

"Not sure fucking is an option at the moment," I murmur. "Or I'd be buried inside you already."

She writhes harder, whimpering in frustration. With an almost feral growl, Bryn yanks her fly apart. "Please."

I wedge my hand under the elastic of her underwear, finding hot, wet, willing flesh.

Her seam parts for my middle finger, and the hard little nub of her clit greets my touch; she gasps, jerks.

Buries her face in the side of my neck, muffling a gasp, a whimper, a whine—each one more desperate than the last.

I explore her depths, slicking my finger into her channel. "Fuck, Bryn. You're so goddamned tight."

She writhes against my touch, mewling. God, she's desperate. Wild for a release. How long has it been for her? Way too long, I think. Time to rectify that.

I slip my finger, now drenched with her the essence of her need, against her clit.

She muffles a cry against my neck, rocking against me.

I circle her clit with the pad of my finger, barely touching the bundle of nerve-endings.

Her gasps come short and quick, and shallow, as much moan as gasp. Her hips buck, writhe, twitch.

She's seconds from exploding.

I drive my finger inside her again, receiving a frustrated little snarl at the denial of her release. "Rush!"

God, the way she says my name is fucking intoxicating. Makes my cock harder than ever, which I recognize is ridiculous and possibly concerning.

"You want to come, do you?" I tease, curling my finger inside her sweet, hot, wet pussy.

"I have to," she whispers. "I fucking need it."

I slide my fingertip against her clit. "This?"

"Yes!"

I hold my finger still. "Take it, then, love. Fuck my finger the way you need it."

Arms tight around my neck, she growls against my throat as she grinds her clit against my finger, driving herself against my touch. "Fuck, fuck," she hisses. "So fucking close."

"I thought you needed to come," I tease. "Thought you were right there."

"I am," she snaps. "I need…oh—oh fuck. I need—"

"Tell me, Gorgeous. Tell me what you need to come for me."

She grabs my wrist and moves my hand in circles. "Faster. Make me come."

I bury my hand in her hair and yank her face away from my throat. "Eyes on mine, love."

Her limpid brown eyes are wide and deep and glistening and fraught. "Rush," she whines.

"Say please," I growl.

"Please," she begs, shameless and greedy. "Make me come, Rush. Please."

I push two fingers deep inside her clenching, pulsing pussy and fuck her with them, and my cock throbs at the wet squelch as my fingers drive through her clamping, squeezing channel. Fuck, I want to be inside her. Want it to be my cock instead of my fingers.

She grips my wrist with bruising strength. "Touch my clit, Rush. I'm there—I’m right there," she whispers, pleading. "Touch me, touch me, please- fuck touch me now, Rush."

Slick fingers smear against her clit, and she detonates instantly.

A cry rips out of her throat, and I slam my mouth on hers to silence her, swirling my fingers against her as fast as I can, as fast as the awkward angle and limited space will allow.

She writhes on me, thrashes, grinds, wailing into my mouth, pulling back with gritted teeth, head hanging, keening desperately as her orgasm leaves her shuddering and shaking.

I take her through her orgasm with slow circles, milking the last throes of climax until she drags my hand away, collapsing against me, panting raggedly.

After a minute or so of trying to catch her breath, she pulls away to look at me. “That was…unexpected." A grin. 'But amazing. Thank you."

I bark a surprised laugh. "You're thanking me? That was the hottest thing I've experienced in a long time. You're sexier when you come than you've any right to be." I brush a thumb over her cheeks. "You're fuckin' adorable when you blush."

The conductor strolls past at that moment, frowning at the sight of Bryn straddling my thigh. He raps on the glass with a foreknuckle, shaking his head.

Bryn giggles and slips off me, curling against my side in mortification, face buried against my arm.

He moves on, and we both burst into laughter.

I shift on the bench, trying to be subtle about adjusting myself.

Not subtle enough.

"Problem?" Bryn asks, her eyes locked on mine.