Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
“Didn’t I say?”
“No. You just said you’d be back.” Even though we’re alone, we’re whispering.
“I am back,” he says.
I growl. “You have to communicate better. If we’re going to be together.”
As if I’ve confounded him, he stares. Blinks. And then he grabs me, hoists me onto the table, and wrangles my legs until they’re wound around his waist. His fingers dig into my ass as he pulls me as close as he can, until my pussy’s snug against the hard cock tenting his athletic shorts.
I whimper, instantly flushed and breathless and melting. His chest rumbles.
“Communicate?” he mumbles against my lips as he falls on me, kissing me like he’s starving.
“Yes,” I sigh into his mouth, opening for his tongue, hooking my ankles so I’m squeezing him tight, so he’s pressing hard against the part of me that throbs.
“I needed my pipe wrench.”
“They don’t have wrenches here?”
“Mine is better.” He darts a sharp glance around the empty cavern, and then he tugs the waistband of his shorts under his heavy balls so he can drag his bare cock up and down my slit, wedging the scrap of fabric covering me further between my folds. His other hand tangles in my hair, his breath ragged and shallow.
“Communicate,” he mutters again when he surfaces for air.
My breasts are aching, my own lungs working overtime. He’s here, and as close as he is, I need him closer. The twisted crotch of my panties rubs my clit, and I squirm, but all that accomplishes is making me achier and squirmier.
“I got my money,” he says.
“Okay.”
“I picked up some clothes.”
“I brought all my clothes.”
“My clothes.”
“Oh, yeah.” His clothes. Of course. What am I thinking?
“I got something for you, though.”
“What?”
“Later.” He kisses me again, and I try to make him stay, but he keeps drawing back to tell me something else, so I chase his mouth and bump my chin on his cheek, my nose on his jaw.
“I went as my wolf, so I made good time there, but I had to hike back.”
I hum, absolutely disinterested, and with his next kiss, I try to trap the tip of his tongue in my teeth while I dig my heels into his ass. He still pulls back.
“I checked on Miss Nola. Made sure she’s got enough wood.”
My heart melts.
“Is she okay?”
“She wouldn’t come to the door, but my aunt says she’s fine.”
Worry knots my stomach. Miss Nola’s all alone now. Now that Alec’s back, I need to talk to him about her. I’ve learned he’s got a knack for solving problems.
He bucks his hips, hits me just so, and a little convulsion ripples through my lower belly.
Later. After this. We’ll talk after this.
He’s drawing his head back again, though, saying, “I told my cousin he can have my place for now.”
I don’t care. Why won’t he be quiet? He’s blabbing like there’s a gun to his head, and if he shuts up, they’ll pull the trigger. Or like if he gives me a second to think, I’ll put a stop to this and slip away, but I wouldn’t.
His body in my arms, his scent in my lungs, it all highlights the reality I’ve been steadfastly ignoring for five days.
I missed him. Alec. Not the male I imagined he was, but this one, the real one, who’s as clueless as I am, as damaged as I am, and who wants me as bad as I want him. Who’s still going on and on.
“I told him not to get comfortable. I’m coming back for the furniture. And the gas range.”
I try to tug him down by the arms I’ve got looped around his neck, but he won’t budge.
“And the fridge,” he adds.
“Why do you keep talking
?” I finally growl.
“You said I need to communicate,” he says, dead earnest. “So I’m communicating the fuck out of you.”
My laugh echoes in the empty cavern, and his eyes catch on my smiling mouth and go dark.
“Lean back. Put your palms flat on the table.” Oh. I think he’s done communicating.
Excitement erupts inside me like a startled flock of birds, along with something as light and buoyant as joy must feel.
I do what he says.
He takes my legs from around his waist and props my heels on the edge of the table, stretching both limbs as far apart as they’ll go until I whine. I’m showing him my pussy, the fabric of my panties threaded through the slit between my wet, swollen lips.
My knees drift together, and he guides them back apart. “Keep them open.”
My eyelids flutter shut, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to nudge my entrance with that thick cock, but instead, there’s a thud, and then a nose bumps the pudge right above my mound. My eyes fly open, and I crane my neck. All I can see is the top of his head.
I squeak, my thighs clamping shut of their own accord, but he braces me open with his elbows, and I feel his hot breath on the pulsing bud that’s becoming the center of my entire focus.
He’s on his knees. For me.
He licks inside me, fore to aft and back again, and it’s wild, mind-stopping, sloppier and wetter than I imagined, and it makes me wriggle, but it also feels so damn good. His nose dips into my channel, and oh, no, what am I thinking?
I haven’t bathed since yesterday when Nia played lookout, how could I have forgotten, and he’s licking me all over, the hairy mound above my clit—oh, heaven please no—the skin leading to my asshole.
I shriek and buck and kick and twist my hips to the side so hard that for a second, I’m afraid I’ve snapped his neck, but he climbs to his feet, and he looks fine, except his shadowed cheeks are slick with my juices, and his eyes are wary.
He considers me for a second as I try to pull my shirt as low as it’ll go. “What’s wrong?” he finally asks.
I stare over his shoulder and thank my lucky stars that it’s dark enough that he won’t be able to see that I’m beet red.
“Nothing.”
He considers me again, brows knitting. I feel like a stubborn clog. “You liked it, and then you didn’t.”
I shrug.
He gives me another minute, and when I don’t elaborate, he sighs, grabs my hands, and pulls me so I’m sitting straight up, and we’re face to face, and with a note of alpha command, he says, “Flora, communicate.”
The force of my embarrassment causes my forehead to drop and rest on his pec. “I haven’t bathed today,” I mumble into his hot skin.
“Okay.” He waits like that was only half an explanation.
“Your tongue was—” I kind of squawk and burrow my face into his chest. “It was heading the wrong way. And I realized I hadn’t had a bath.”
His hand rises tentatively to cradle the back of my head. To comfort me. Maybe to hold me where I am. “But you liked what I was doing at first?” he growls in my ear, shooting shivers down my neck.