Page 20

Dorian, Dorian, Dorian.

My head repeats the name like a chant. A prayer. Willing him not to disappear the moment I touch him.

And he doesn’t.

The moment we come together again, he lets out a groan that morphs into a growl, lifting me up. Acting on instinct, I wrap my legs around him, and that makes the sound coming from his throat even worse, more guttural and desperate.

He walks me over to his dresser and sets me down on top, leaning in, pressing our chests together so we’re flush hip to shoulder. We kiss and kiss, hands frantic, tongues sliding together, the beat of the kiss deep inside me, like a song we’re playing together, making it up as we go along.

“Kira,” he pants, and when he looks at me, his pupils are blown so big it’s almost alarming. His scent swims around me, heady and warm, and I could float on it.

His cock presses deliciously between my legs, and I grind against it, wishing I had any of my skirts or dresses, something that would give him easier access than the jean shorts I have on now. He scrapes his hands roughly over my body, as if checking to make sure I’m real, dragging at the hem of my tank top, tugging on the tips of my hair, letting out a noise when his palms sink into the soft flesh of my inner thighs.

“Fucking hells,” he rasps, pulling back like it’s the last thing he wants to do, like he’s willingly cutting off his oxygen supply. “Kira—”

“Here—” I’m reaching down, starting to unbutton my shorts, to shimmy them off my legs, but his hand darts out and he grabs my wrists, looking absolutely choked.

My gaze flies up to his, heart stopping.

“Kira,” he gasps. “I need—I need to make sure that you want this—that it’s not just the heat— fuck —”

“I want this,” I breathe, shaking and sliding my hands up over his shoulders. “I’ve wanted this for longer than I can remember, Dorian. From the day I knew it was something worth wanting, I’ve wanted you.”

Maybe it’s not coherent, but it makes sense. And he seems to get what I’m saying, because he nods, voice low as he says, “Me too, Kira. In high school, it was the worst.”

“Really?”

That takes the breath out of me—he noticed me? He wanted me? Because every time I saw him, he was leveling insults at me, flicking food from across the cafeteria, crossing to the other side of the hallway, claiming I “stunk.”

“Really,” he growls, and then he’s lifting me, walking me effortlessly to his bed. I cinch my ankles together around his waist, but he has no problem carrying me, holding up my weight.

When my head hits the pillow, his hands are everywhere, tugging the ribbed black tank top up over my head.

“ Fuck ,” he hisses, when the shirt is across the room and my cleavage is bare, bra still on. I flush red, and I know it spreads down over my breasts, splotchy, hot. He traces a finger over the curve of my breast, follows the line down the band, and finally hooks his fingers into the clasp, undoing it with a single flick of his hand.

I let out an embarrassing sound, and an even more embarrassing one when he lowers his head and covers a nipple with his mouth.

“Oh.” My eyes are locked on the place where his lips are touching my skin—not the first time ever, but the first time in this spot, the first time I’m feeling his total devotion, his hunger, his tongue circling my nipple, then rubbing roughly against it, the pressure enough that my back starts to arch.

I’m so wet it’s embarrassing, the scent of the slick, heady in the room. Other than the scent of him, it’s all I can smell, all I can think about. How needy I am, how much I want him to touch me.

He keeps his mouth on me as he reaches down, deftly unbuttoning the jeans he wouldn’t let me touch just moments ago. My legs jerk open as if controlled by invisible wires, and I arch into the touch, though he’s nowhere near where I want him.

Grinning against my breast, he pulls back slightly, breathing hard. I feel the hot fan of his breath over the sensitive skin there, and it makes me shiver. My entire body feels pulled bare, the nerves right up there on the surface, raw.

Everywhere he touches is like he’s at the core of me. I’m a quivering, whimpering mess, and he hasn’t even slid my panties off.

“Kira?” he asks, and I hear the wince in his voice as he asks, “I hate to ask this, but be honest with me. Have you been with an alpha before?”

At this point, I know I should lie. I know that telling the truth just makes me look desperate, needy. But I can’t find it within me to care.

“No,” I gasp, letting my head tip back, my eyes closing as he trails his fingers just under the band of my basic cotton underwear. “Nobody else. Only you. Just now.”

“Fuck,” he buries his face in my neck for a long moment, body shaking like he’s trying to gain control of himself. “Okay—that’s— fuck .”

I breathe heavily for a long moment, and when my hands start moving up his sides, he grabs them by the wrists, yanking my hands above my head and holding them there.

“You have to be patient, okay?” he breathes, eyes flicking back and forth between mine. With a choked laugh, he says, “I’m barely holding it together here, and we need to—I need to make sure you know—”

He trails off, his eyes skipping back down to my breasts, and I feel that tremor run through his body again. A physical restraint.

“I’d like to fuck you, Kira,” he says, eyes rising to mine. “We on the same page about that?”

“Yes,” I’m practically sobbing the word, resisting the urge to writhe under him, to grind my hips into his. Any thing to get more pressure down there. I want to cut to the part where he’s inside me, but he’s looking at me like this is important, so I do my best to listen.

“Okay,” he closes his eyes, says, “have you—I’m going to knot, inside you, and it might be painful, okay? For some omegas it is, for some it’s not, but I want you to know before you—”

I could laugh if I wasn’t so fucking desperate. Voice rough, I give in and grind my hips against him, watching as he sucks in a sharp breath, his hand releasing my wrists and going to my hip, holding me in place.

“I’m well aware of how it works, Dorian,” I say, “and if you spend one more second describing it to me, rather than doing it to me, I’m going to—”

He cuts me off by capturing my mouth with his and sliding my panties completely off at the same time. It takes skill, but I’m finally naked. Continuing to kiss me, Dorian only pulls back to get his shirt off, to yank his pants down and toss them to the black depths of the room, where my clothes exist, too.

Once we’re both completely bare, he forces my legs open, growling, grinding the palm of his hand against me, watching as my eyes practically roll back in my head.

“Another time,” he says, sounding like there’s sand in his throat. “I’m going to take my time with you, Kira. Taste every inch of you. But right now—”

I cut him off, reaching down and wrapping my hand around his cock, guiding it best I can toward my entrance. It’s thick, nearly filling my hand, and when I pull, he sways forward, eyes shot. I feel the pulse of need there, in his member, and it makes my entire body flush with heat.

He doesn’t say anything else, but just grabs my hips, notches his tip in my entrance, and meets my eyes once more before sliding himself in.