Page 24 of The Forgery Mate (Taken by His Alpha #6)
E zra works my buttons open, each one coming undone with such deliberate care that it leaves me trembling. I’m more exposed now than I’ve ever been, not just from the slow revelation of skin, but from the way his eyes hold mine, refusing to let me retreat into the safety of another persona.
Ezra sees me in a way no one has since my grandpa was taken away, and he’s determined to strip me bare of every single one of my defenses.
When tears spill over from being overwhelmed, he soothes me with gentle kisses as he pushes Knox’s jacket from my shoulders. He tosses it to the floor with a whisper of expensive fabric, and he untangles my tie from my neck with a slow drag that goes straight to my groin.
The tie joins my jacket on the floor. “Stop thinking so much.”
“Force of habit.” The words choke off on a moan as his hands slide beneath my shirt, palms warm on my bare skin.
Ezra leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “Break it.”
My breath stutters as he removes my vest, then unbuttons my shirt with the same unhurried motions, each inch of exposed skin claimed by his mouth.
The heat of his tongue traces patterns that have my muscles jumping and my legs shifting restlessly on either side of his hips.
I reach for his clothes, needing to ground myself in the distraction of undressing him, but he catches my wrists in one strong hand, pinning them above my head.
“Not yet.” His free hand continues its work, spreading my shirt open to reveal my chest. “I want to see all of you.”
I tremble beneath the heat of his stare, burning through every defense I’ve spent a lifetime perfecting.
For so long, I’ve hidden behind fabricated identities, wearing their masks so convincingly that I painted right over myself.
Now, with Ezra tracing every inch of unveiled skin, I feel like a forgery under scrutiny, stripped bare by the most unforgiving authenticator.
Will I pass? Will he find me wanting?
His mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and my thoughts dissolve into sensation.
He works his way down my body, cataloging every reaction, every small gasp and shiver.
My belt pulls free with a slither that leaves me shuddering, and then my shoes are tugged off.
They thud onto the floor just before my pants join the growing pile of discarded clothing.
All the barriers I hide behind now lie in a jumbled mess on the floor, leaving me fully exposed.
When I lie naked beneath him, my heart pounds with equal parts fear and desire.
Ezra stands to remove his clothes, the smooth efficiency of his movements betraying his impatience despite the restraint with which he divested me of my armor.
The lamplight catches in his hair and on the intricate lines of his tattoos as he reveals the masterpiece of his body.
He returns to the bed, bare body sliding over mine, and electricity races through my veins.
His weight settles between my thighs, his hands framing my face, forcing me to face him head-on. “Stay with me. Don’t disappear inside your head.”
As he grinds our hard cocks together, the friction of our bodies draws a moan from deep in my chest. Ezra’s hand slides between us, wrapping around both our lengths, and my back arches off the bed at the pleasure.
“Ezra—” His name falls from my lips on a desperate moan.
“I’ve got you.” His hand leaves my dick to delve lower between my legs, finding my already slick entrance. “I’ve always had you, even when you thought you were running.”
His fingers breach the tight ring of muscles with the same deliberate patience he’s shown all night. My body opens for him, muscle memory recalling the pleasure his touch brings, reminding me how perfectly we fit together despite all the reasons we shouldn’t.
I gasp as he finds that spot inside me, and pressure builds at the base of my spine, my slick thickening with each careful stroke. My nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moon indentations in his flesh.
“Please,” I whisper, pride abandoned along with pretense.
Ezra replaces his fingers with the blunt head of his cock, pushing forward with an exquisite slowness that borders on torture. My legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as I try to urge him deeper.
He captures my wrists again, pinning them beside my head as he establishes a rhythm that leaves me breathless. Each controlled rock of his hips, each rub of his abdomen over my hard dick, is designed to bring me to the edge without allowing me to fall.
His focus never leaves me, cataloguing every flicker of emotion across my face, adjusting his pace when my breathing quickens, waiting for me to calm before he starts over again.
I writhe beneath him, frustration at being denied my orgasm bringing tears to my eyes. “Ezra, please.”
He licks away the salty trails from my temples. “Tell me what you need, Ren.”
With a needy whine, I turn my face into his throat, breathing in his pheromones. “I need to come.”
A satisfied rumble rises from his chest. “Who’s your Alpha?”
My lips clamp shut with a last bit of stubborn resistance.
Ezra’s movements still, his cock buried deep inside me. Pushing up on his elbow, he grips my chin. “Who’s your Alpha, Ren?”
My inner muscles clench around his hard length, but his hips keep me pinned in place, his message clear. With a moan, I let this last shred of pride go. “You’re my Alpha. Please let me come, Alpha.”
“I’ll give you everything, my beautiful Omega.” Leaning down, he licks into my mouth, claiming every part of me he can reach. “And you’ll give me everything. No more masks.”
His hips snap forward with enough force to make the headboard shudder on the wall. “Just you. Just me. Just us.”
The words pierce through me, sharper than any physical sensation. I’m laid bare beneath him, not only my body but everything I’ve been hiding. The vulnerability is both terrifying and exhilarating. Without my personas to protect me, there’s nothing left to stop his claim on my soul.
Our bodies move together in a dance we both remember, finding the rhythm of before with the urgency of now.
The heat between us builds, pressure coiling tighter with each thrust, each breathless gasp.
Ezra shifts, changing the angle, and on his next thrust, he hits that perfect spot, over and over, and color bursts to vibrant life behind my eyelids.
“That’s it.” His control frays at the edges. “Let go of everything for me.”
The command, delivered in a desire-roughened voice, pushes me over the edge. Pleasure crashes through me in waves, radiating outward from where our bodies connect. I cry out, back arching, hands straining within his grasp as I come between our pressed bodies.
Ezra follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep inside me, liquid heat flooding my channel as his cock pulses. He collapses beside me, both of us breathing hard, skin slick with sweat and the evidence of our passion.
For long minutes, the only sounds in the room are our slowing breaths, the distant hum of the city beyond the windows providing a gentle backdrop to the aftermath of our reunion. Ezra’s hand finds mine, fingers intertwining as if to ensure I don’t slip away again.
“Don’t move,” he says when our heartbeats steady, and he kisses my shoulder before rolling out of bed.
I watch through a half-lidded daze as he pads naked across the room, the tattoos on his back shifting with each movement of muscle beneath skin. He disappears, returning with a damp cloth, and he cleans us both with unexpected tenderness.
The warm sweep of the cloth allows enough time for the haze to fade from my mind. When he leaves again, the voices sweep back in, telling me I shouldn’t be here. His absence becomes a physical ache, a cold spot where his warmth should be.
Before I can panic, though, and scramble for my clothes, he reappears. This time, he carries a crystal decanter and two tumblers that catch the lamplight and break it into prisms across his skin. He fills them and sets the decanter on the nightstand.
Our fingers brush as he hands me a glass, and the contact sends a current through me even after everything we just shared.
Climbing onto the bed, he settles at the headboard. The sheets tangle around our legs as he draws me to recline against him, his arm around me, his chest rising and falling at my back. The scent of sex and pheromones mingles, the intoxicating blend filling my lungs with each inhale.
His legs bracket mine, his hold both protective and possessive, as if even now he fears I might try to escape.
But for the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, I have no desire to run.
His body heat seeps into mine, chasing away the perpetual chill I’ve carried since the day I left him.
I melt into his embrace, allowing myself this moment of peace and belonging.
The whiskey burns a path down my throat, warming me from the inside out. It’s expensive, the kind that doesn’t need ice to smooth its edges, the kind my grandfather would save for special occasions.
“So…” Ezra’s lips brush my neck. “Aside from the age thing, what other excuses are you clinging to?”
“Excuses?” The word comes out sharper than I intend, edged with defense mechanisms as automatic as breathing.
Ezra’s arm tightens around my waist in response. “Objections, then.” His breath stirs the hair at my nape. “Let’s call them objections.”
I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, watching it catch the light from the bedside lamp. It’s easier to focus on that than to face the question head-on.
My silence stretches between us, neither confirmation nor denial.
“You’re allowed to have reasons,” Ezra says, gentler than I deserve. “But I want to hear them from you instead of imagining them for myself.”