Page 3 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)

He locks the door behind us with a soft click , and I turn to find him watching me like he’s already unwrapped me in his mind.

“You good?” he asks, voice low and rough as gravel.

I nod, heart thudding. “You?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Been good since the moment you sang Jolene.”

Then he moves.

One hand curls around the back of my neck possessively, the other grips my waist, pulling me against him like he’s done waiting, done pretending. His mouth crushes mine, hungry and consuming.

The kiss is heat and hunger and claiming.

I open for him instinctively, my tongue sliding against his, tasting the faint spice of whiskey.

His stubble scrapes against my skin as he drags his mouth down my jaw. Each graze is a mark, a promise.

“You taste like cider and trouble,” he mutters against the hollow of my throat, his breath hot.

“Good trouble?” I breathe, my voice already unsteady.

“The best kind,” he says, low and rough, before his mouth finds mine again, this time slower, deeper, like he’s savoring every second.

He lifts me effortlessly, strong arms cradling my body as he carries me across the room, where he lays me out on the couch, the plush cushions cool against my back.

He kneels between my thighs, his eyes raking over me with a look that strips me bare even before he touches me. “You’re so damn pretty, Josie.”

“Oh yeah?” I murmur, lips parted, breath shallow.

“Oh hell yeah.”

He pushes my skirt up slowly, his large palms skimming my thighs. Rough skin over smooth, bare flesh.

“I like the way you look at me like I’m the only thing you want. I like how you moaned for my food like it was better than sex. And I know you’re dripping through that tiny little skirt just thinking about what I’ll do to you.”

A deep inhale escapes me, thighs involuntarily clenching. But he’s already there, sliding my skirt up further as he guides my legs further apart, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin at the tops of my thighs.

Then his fingers reach the edge of my panties. He pauses, eyes locked on mine, then dips lower, pressing a light touch against the drenched fabric.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked .”

He peels the lace down slowly, teasing every inch as he exposes me to the firelight.

Then his mouth is on me, lips trailing over the inside of my thigh as he leaves scorches behind on my skin.

As I struggle to keep my groans in check.

Each kiss feels like worship, each drag of his tongue a silent vow.

I reach for him, fingers threading through his thick, unruly hair, needing something to hold onto as heat coils inside me like a fuse waiting to blow.

“You want one night?” His voice is rough velvet, dark and dangerous. “Then I’m giving you the night of your fucking life.”

The first flick of his tongue makes my hips jerk, my moan loud and uncontrolled. He licks slow and deep, tongue stroking through slick heat with maddening precision. I arch into him, his name a breathless chant on my lips.

He doesn’t rush. He devours , alternating between long, torturous licks and quick, fluttering flicks over my hypersensitive clit that send sparks shooting through my spine. I writhe beneath him, hands clinging to his shoulders, his hair, anything I can reach, because I feel like I’m falling.

He pins my thighs wide, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding me open as he circles my clit with his tongue. The rhythm is cruel, perfect, and when I think I’m about to tip over the edge, he backs off, just enough to drive me mad.

“Beg for it,” he murmurs, lips brushing sensitive skin, his voice vibrating through me.

“Knox, please,” I gasp. “Please, I can’t.”

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

And then he changes.

No more teasing, no more mercy. His tongue flattens against my clit, slow and heavy, a powerful stroke that makes my entire body seize with pleasure. He does it again, languid, devastating, like he has all the time in the world to break me apart.

I whimper, hips bucking involuntarily, but his hands grip my thighs tighter, holding me in place, forcing me to take every flick of his tongue, every pass of his mouth like it’s punishment for wanting this too much.

“Stay still,” he growls against me, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh bolt of heat through my core.

I try. Fuck, I try. But he’s relentless.

He switches it up, circling my sensitive nub with maddening precision, never too fast, never enough to tip me over. Just enough to keep me there, teetering on the edge, strung so tight I could snap from a breath.

My fingers claw into his shoulders, nails digging into solid muscle as I writhe beneath him. Every nerve ending is awake, lit up, begging for more.

“Knox,” I pant. “Please, please, I…”

But I don’t even know what I’m asking for. Relief? More? Mercy?

He hums low against me, and the sound, deep, sinful, knowing, almost undoes me. He drags his tongue lower, dipping inside me, slow and thorough, tasting everything I give him like it’s a feast. Then back up again, tongue flicking against my clit with a rhythm that makes my thighs shake.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he mutters, almost reverent, his voice wrecked. “Could keep you like this for hours. Spread out. Dripping. Mine.”

My head falls back against the cushions, lips parted in a silent moan. I can feel it coming now, that molten wave building low in my belly, winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue, each moan he draws from me like music.

He sucks on my clit, just once, hard enough to make me cry out, and then he soothes it, licking over the sensitive bundle of nerves like he’s sorry for how good it feels.

My hips lift, chasing his mouth, and this time, he doesn’t stop me.

He groans, deep and guttural, hands sliding beneath my ass to lift me closer, anchoring me to his mouth. There’s no space between us now, no hesitation. Only raw need. His tongue works faster, more precise, alternating soft with shocking, slow with sudden, and every second is a new kind of torment.

I’m not breathing. I can’t breathe. I’m floating and falling and burning all at once.

“Knox, fuck, I’m…”

“That’s it,” he murmurs, breath hot against my soaked skin. “Let go for me. Come on, Josie. I want to feel you come on my tongue.”

That’s all it takes.

The coil inside me snaps. Violently, beautifully.

Pleasure crashes over me in a tidal wave, ripping a cry from my throat as my back bows off the couch, spine arching, legs shaking around his shoulders. My fingers twist in his hair, holding on like I’ll drown without him.

But he doesn’t stop.

He takes everything. Keeps licking, keeps sucking, keeps drawing every last spasm out of me like it’s the only thing he wants in the world. My orgasm crests and crashes again, over and over, until I’m trembling, twitching, completely undone.

My thighs try to close around him, too sensitive, too much, but he holds me open, mouth gentle now, kissing me softly through the aftershocks, like he’s grounding me, like he’s still not done worshipping.

When he finally pulls away, his lips glisten, his eyes feral. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze locked on mine like a man possessed.

“Get upstairs,” he orders, voice low, wrecked. “Clothes off. I want you in my bed. First door on the right.”

I go.

No hesitation. No questions. I’m already stripping as I move, leaving a trail of clothing across the floor. Every piece dropped like a shedding skin.

By the time I reach the bedroom, I’m bare, my skin tingling from the firelight and anticipation. I barely have time to register the sheer expanse of the room. The luxury furniture that screams wealth. I turn in time to see him enter, shirt gone, jeans unbuttoned, eyes burning.

The snap of his belt hitting the floor is like a gunshot to my spine.

I move toward the bed, but he grabs my wrist, stopping me.

“Not yet,” he growls.

He spins me around to face the wall of windows, floor-to-ceiling glass, dark and reflective. Our image stares back at me: flushed skin, tangled hair, wild eyes. Him, towering behind me, every muscle straining, hard and thick and ready.

“Want you to see what I do to you,” he rasps. “See how wrecked you get for me.”

He slides his fingers between my thighs again, gathering slick wetness, teasing my entrance before guiding himself into me in one long, slow thrust. The stretch is perfect, unbearable.

My forehead presses to the glass as I gasp his name, body trembling, trying to take him deeper.

“Damn,” he groans, hand gripping my hip, the other coming around to palm my breast, fingers flicking my nipple. “You’re so fucking tight. Like your body was made for me.”

He starts to move, long, measured strokes that hit deep . I whimper, bracing against the cool glass, barely able to breathe.

“No,” he growls when I bite back a moan. “I want to hear you.”

So I give him everything. My cries, my gasps, every helpless sound he pulls from me. He deserves all of it.

His hand finds my clit again, circling as he drives into me faster, harder, the rhythm ruthless, exact. My legs tremble as the heat builds again, impossibly white hot.

“Harder,” I beg. “Please, Knox, don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping.” He slaps my ass, hard enough to make me yelp, then again, rougher, before his hand slides up and closes around my throat from behind, not tight, just enough to send lightning through my veins. “Not until you’re fucking ruined .”

The next orgasm hits like a freight train, violent and consuming. I scream his name, hands splayed against the glass, my reflection blurring in front of me as I come apart completely.

He pulls out slowly, catching me when I sag, breath ragged against my neck. He’s still hard, his restraint barely leashed.

I don’t want him restrained.

I turn and drop to my knees in front of him, eyes locked on his, mouth already open. His breath catches.

“Josie.” he warns, voice shredded.

I trail my fingers up his thighs, nails lightly scraping. “Let go,” I whisper. “Let me have you.”

He fists my hair, groaning low. “You’re going to ruin me.”

Good.

I take him deep, tongue stroking, throat tightening around him as he shudders. His control frays with every bob of my head, every wet, obscene sound filling the air. He grips my hair tighter, but doesn’t force. He lets me set the pace.

Until he can’t anymore.

When he finally breaks, he curses low, hips jerking, and I take everything he gives, licking him clean, not stopping until he’s trembling above me, spent and speechless.

And it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.