Page 10 of The Alpha Under My Bed (The Chosen #1)

Ten

ELEANOR

The ride home was too quiet.

Mal hadn’t turned on the radio, the only sounds filling the car were the low rumble of the engine and the occasional slide of his fingers over the worn leather of the gear shift. The air between us was thick with something unspoken—something that made my skin feel too tight, too sensitive. I kept my eyes on the window, watching the slow, rhythmic flicker of streetlights against the glass, trying to focus on anything except the aching heat still coiled low in my stomach. Just get home. That was the only thing I needed to focus on.

I shifted slightly, adjusting in my seat, desperate for some kind of relief—and immediately regretted it. A sharp, hot pulse shot through me, pressure and friction striking deep inside, sending a shockwave up my spine. My breath stuttered, a quiet, involuntary hitch that I hoped Mal hadn’t noticed.

The plug.

The sudden movement had pressed it deeper, shifting against a spot that sent a slow, rolling heat curling low in my stomach. My thighs clenched instinctively—a pitiful attempt to still my body, to ignore the slow, insistent throb between my legs. But the damage had already been done. My pulse spiked, my skin flushed as the chastity belt locked it all in place, trapping me in my own unbearable frustration.

Not here. Not now. Not in Mal’s car.

I forced myself to breathe, sucking in air through my nose in slow, deliberate pulls, willing my body to behave.

Then we hit the first pothole.

The jolt sent a searing ripple through me, a friction-laced shock that tightened every nerve in my body. The unrelenting pressure against my core was unbearable—deep, insistent, merciless. A sharp, strangled gasp caught in my throat as my fingers clenched against my lap, nails pressing hard into my skin. The belt only added to the torment, pinning me down, trapping me in place, making me feel every unforgiving bump in the road with devastating clarity.

Mal’s fingers hesitated on the gear shift.

“You okay?” His voice was steady—too steady. That measured calm, that dangerous, knowing calm, the one that sent heat curling low in my stomach and turned breath into something fickle and unreliable.

I forced out a thin, breathless laugh, shifting minutely—and instantly regretting it. A fresh, aching pulse of sensation rocketed through me as the plug pressed against something devastatingly sensitive. My breath hitched hard before I could stop it. “Yeah. Just—wasn’t expecting that.”

Mal made a low, contemplative sound, deep in his throat, a noise that was all instinct and consideration, all knowing restraint. He didn’t push. He didn’t have to. His fingers flexed lazily against the wheel, slow, absentminded, like he wasn’t paying me any attention at all.

Which only made it worse.

I exhaled sharply, forcing my hands into fists, nails biting deep into my palms.

We were close. Just a little longer.

Then the car slowed.

My pulse stuttered. My breath came faster, too shallow, the space inside the vehicle closing in as Mal’s grip shifted. Up ahead, the street was blocked—bright orange cones stretched across the road, a detour sign flickering beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp. An arrow pointed toward a rougher, narrower path.

“Road work,” Mal muttered, clicking his tongue. “They’ve been fucking with this street for weeks.”

I swallowed hard.

The detour.

The long way home.

The road was uneven, covered in patchy asphalt and deep dips in the pavement. I barely had time to brace before the first hard jolt sent a slow, unbearable wave of friction through me. The plug pressed against that spot again, dragging a sinful pulse of pressure with it, my core tightening in response.

I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to keep still, to keep from reacting. But my thighs twitched, my fingers curled into my lap, my body betraying me with every cruel bounce of the car.

Then I smelled it.

My scent.

Thick, warm, ruined .

Panic curled up my spine, thick and suffocating. I clenched my thighs, pressing my hands into my lap, trying to suppress it, to will it away, but it was too late. It was already there, spilling into the car, perfuming the air, wrapping around both of us like a thick, damning fog.

It was bad enough that I could smell it—rich, heady, dripping in need—but the real problem sat just inches away, one hand resting on the wheel, the other flexing against the leather gear shift.

Mal.

Even as my perfume filled every inch of space between us, even as my body betrayed me in the most humiliating way possible, Mal didn’t react. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

Another bump.

A sharp, involuntary gasp.

The chastity belt pressed down against me.

The plug shifted, pressing deeper.

Pleasure pulsed through me like a live wire, tightening every muscle in my body.

I froze, my breath a shallow, uneven mess. My thighs pressed together in a pitiful attempt to stop it, to slow it down, but the pressure only grew. My nipples ached under my sweater, my body wound too tight, the slow, unbearable build of pressure inside me sharpening into something dangerous, something irreversible.

Oh my god.

I was going to?—

No. No, I wasn’t.

I clenched my jaw, squeezing my legs together so hard it hurt, trying to ground myself, trying to stop the slow, torturous unraveling. But the belt was too tight. The plug was too deep. The road was too rough.

And Mal?—

Mal wasn’t reacting.

Even as my perfume replaced the oxygen in the car, even as my breath hitched, even as I fought to keep myself together?—

He just kept driving.

I turned my head slightly, my breath coming fast, desperate. Mal’s profile was shadowed in the dim streetlight glow, his jaw tight, fingers flexing on the wheel.

And then?—

He inhaled.

Deep. Slow. Steady.

I stopped breathing.

Oh god.

I knew what it meant when an alpha did that—when they inhaled an omega’s scent, pulling it deep into their lungs and letting it settle there, marking the space between them. It was primal, instinctual—hardwired into them.

But Mal wasn’t an alpha.

He was just… breathing.

Slow. Steady. Unfazed.

Like he didn’t notice.

Like he didn’t care.

Like he wasn’t sitting right next to me while I was slowly losing my fucking mind.

Another bump.

Another shock of friction—sharp, relentless. The pressure built again, slow and dizzying, and I cracked.

It was quiet. Too quiet. A silent, shuddering orgasm ripped through me, tearing down my control in an instant, crashing through my nerves like a cold, cruel wave. I fought to contain it, my thighs squeezing together so tightly my muscles screamed in protest, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood as my body convulsed in helpless release.

And Mal?—

Mal didn’t move.

No teasing comment. No sidelong glance. No smirk curling at the corner of his lips, that knowing look in his eyes.

He just kept driving.

By the time we pulled up in front of the apartment, my heart was racing so wildly I thought it might burst, my skin flushed and feverish, and the taste of humiliation thick and choking in my throat.

Mal’s head tilted slightly. His dark eyes dragged over me—slow, unreadable.

Still, he said nothing.

Not about my perfume. Not about the way I had squirmed in my seat the whole ride home. Not about any of it.

I didn’t go inside. Not yet.

I needed a second.

Just one second to breathe.

Mal stepped out behind me.

I went rigid.

He didn’t say anything. Just locked the car, his movements slow, casual. Then he walked toward the building entrance, pausing at the door.

Waiting for me.

I forced my legs to move.

The elevator ride up was silent.

When the doors opened, Mal stepped out first, turning toward his apartment. I turned toward mine, my hands still shaking as I fumbled for my keys.

His footsteps didn’t stop.

I exhaled, relief curling through me.

Then—

“Night, sweetheart. Lock your door behind you.”

I barely managed a nod.

I turned just as his door clicked shut.

Leaving me standing in the hall.

Completely ruined.