Page 17 of The Alpha Under My Bed (The Chosen #1)

Seventeen

ELEANOR

The door slammed behind me, rattling in its frame.

I stood there, breathing hard, hands clenched into fists at my sides.

I could still feel it.

The vibrations. The helplessness. The way my body had betrayed me—again and again—clinging to Mal like he was my only tether to reality when I’d shattered on the back of his bike.

My stomach flipped, my thighs pressing together—too tight, too aware. But the belt was still locked around my hips, still keeping me needy with no way to ease the ache.

I let out a strangled noise, yanking at my hair.

I can’t do this anymore.

I stumbled toward my bed, throwing myself onto the mattress, face buried in my pillow. I needed a minute. A second. Anything to get my mind off the heat pooling deep, deep inside.

But my body wouldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t calm.

Wouldn’t let me breathe without thinking about him.

Not Mal.

Him.

My alpha.

The one who had done this to me.

The one who had claimed me and then disappeared, leaving me alone with this unbearable, throbbing need.

A sob climbed up my throat. I hated him. Hated him for ruining me, for making me want something I shouldn’t.

But I couldn’t fight it anymore.

My gaze snapped to my nightstand.

To my phone.

Dark screen.

Silent.

I had shut it off on purpose, trying to escape. Trying to pretend like I still had control over my own body.

But now?

Now I needed him.

Even if it meant begging.

Even if I hated myself for it.

My fingers trembled as I reached for it, hovering over the power button.

I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t.

I pressed it.

The screen blinked on, blindingly bright, too loud, too full of missed notifications.

I didn’t check them.

I ignored everything except him.

And then, before I could stop myself, I typed?—

Me: Please.

The moment I hit send, my breath shook, my chest rising and falling too fast.

The dots appeared immediately.

Then—nothing.

Oh, God.

Seconds stretched too long.

Then—

Unknown Number: You were such a good girl for me today, weren’t you?

A whimper tore from my throat.

Unknown Number: You’re finally ready to beg?

I clenched my phone too tight, humiliated by how wet I was just from reading the words.

I should fight this.

I should turn my phone off again.

Instead, I swallowed my pride and typed?—

Me: I can’t—I can’t take this. Please, I need you.

Unknown Number: Mmm. Do you?

I hated him.

I hated how much I wanted him.

Me: Come take care of me.

The seconds ticked by too slow.

And then?—

Unknown Number: Good girl.

I exhaled sharply, relief curling through me.

Finally.

But then—nothing.

No I’m on my way.

No Be there soon.

Just silence.

Oh, God.

I stared at my screen, my chest tightening.

Then my phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: You’ll wait for me, won’t you, sweetheart?

The belt hummed.

Low. Gentle. Cruel.

I gasped, my hips jerking against the mattress as the vibration curled right where I needed it.

Another text.

Unknown Number: I’ll come when I feel like it.

A whimper ripped from my throat.

I clenched the sheets, panting, my body already shaking as the vibrations started low—just a cruel, teasing pulse that wasn’t enough to send me over the edge but more than enough to make my thighs clench.

No, no, no?—

I bit my lip hard, trying to hold back the pathetic noises clawing up my throat.

Another text.

Unknown Number: Be a good girl. Hold it for me.

The belt pulsed higher.

I screamed into my pillow.

My body was burning from the inside out, a fever without relief, the vibrations buried against my clit tormenting me with sharp pulses of pleasure before cutting off again, leaving me wrecked. Shaking. Whimpering into the blankets.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

I twisted against the sheets, frantic, my hands clawing at the waistband of the belt, digging my nails into the metal. I yanked, I twisted, I practically sobbed as I tried to pull the damn thing off, my slick coating the inside, making everything feel hotter, wetter, more unbearable.

I needed more.

I needed him.

The thought was a shock to my system, a jagged bolt of humiliation cracking through my haze. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except relief. I was losing my mind, slipping between the cracks of desperation and madness, my whole body tight, strung out, on the verge of breaking apart?—

And then?—

A floorboard creaked.

My entire body locked up.

Every nerve ending seized, my chest going tight as my pulse roared in my ears. The rush of blood was so loud it almost drowned out the deafening silence that followed.

No.

No, no, no.

I sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath, my thighs still trembling, my fingers tangled in the sheets. I barely managed to lift my head, blinking through the haze of heat and frustration, my vision blurred?—

But even through the thick, pulsing fog of my arousal, I saw him.

A dark silhouette leaning against the doorframe.

Watching.

A bolt of something cold shot through me—fear, shame, something deeper, something worse.

I went rigid, my breath catching in my throat, my whole body locked in place.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just stood there, broad shoulders relaxed, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world. The mask covered most of his face, but his eyes?—

God, those eyes.

Dark. Intent. Hungry.

But there was nothing else.

No scent.

No warmth curling through the air.

Just silence.

An absence where an alpha should be.

My stomach twisted, the sensation so violent I thought I might be sick. My breath turned shallow, uneven, my body still burning from the inside out, still wound tight from the constant cycle of stimulation and denial—but I barely felt it over the ice creeping into my veins.

He was suppressing his scent.

The realization hit like a slap.

I was trapped in a room with my alpha, and I couldn’t even smell him.

The void where his scent should be was unnatural, unsettling. It made him feel like a ghost—something just outside the realm of reality.

My fingers clenched around the blankets, my breath coming too fast, panic and arousal mixing into something unbearable.

Because I was still aching for him.

Still slick and ruined, still whimpering from the last pulse of pleasure, still helplessly wet in front of him.

And he knew it.

He knew everything.

I scrambled back, my movements jerky, shame searing through my chest as I reached for the sheets, trying to cover myself, trying to erase the last five minutes—but it was too late.

I had begged for him.

I had cried for him.

And now he was here.

The belt buzzed back to life.

I choked on a gasp, my body jerking violently as a fresh wave of pleasure slammed into me, lightning crackling through my core, a sharp, ruthless vibration hitting my clit directly. I arched involuntarily, my fingers twisting in the sheets, my thighs trembling—the sensation too much, too sharp, too humiliating.

A low chuckle rumbled from the doorway.

Oh my God.

Oh my fucking God.

I wanted to die.

The sound coiled around my spine, hot and knowing, unshaken, completely in control.

He was enjoying this.

My alpha was watching me fall apart, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

I sucked in a desperate, shuddering breath, my eyes burning as I forced out a whisper. “S-Stop.”

I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

The vibrations cut off instantly.

The silence was worse.

I panted, my body trembling, my skin flushed and oversensitive, the lingering heat still buzzing through my veins. My pulse pounded in my throat, my muscles tensed so tight I thought I might snap.

Then, finally?—

He spoke.

“Tell me, sweetheart…”

Oh, God.

That voice.

Deep. Steady. Unshaken.

Like he had every ounce of power in this room, and I had none.

He was in complete control.

He took his time, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate movements, his head tilting just slightly. His fingers trailed up to adjust the mask, as if he were making himself more comfortable.

Like he had every intention of staying.

Like he belonged here.

My breath came in short, panicked little gasps, my body betraying me—still aching, still shaking, still wanting?—

“Do you still want him?”

My heart stopped.

The words were slow, mocking, dripping with amusement.

He took another step closer, and I pressed back into my nest, my instincts screaming at me to run, hide, submit?—

Just the weight of his presence pressing down on me like a collar around my throat.

I shook my head, fresh panic licking up my spine.

No.

No, no, no?—

The belt pulsed again.

I detonated.