Chapter 429 – Falling for the Alpha as a Surrogate Novel

Filed To Story: Falling for the Alpha as a Surrogate Novel

I scoff, thinking that perhaps the Atalaxians need a little aggression in their lives, and start to move away from Sinclair, kicking away the blankets. But before I can get far, I hear him snarl and then feel him wrap his arm around my waist and tug me, hard, back to him.

I let out a little yelp of surprise as Sinclair levers himself over me, swiftly gathering both of my wrists in one of his hands and lifting them over my head before using his body to pin me to the mattress.

“What!” I gasp, and then I frown up at him, angry. “What are you doing!? Get off of me, Dominic!”

“Not a chance, little queen,” he murmurs, glaring down at me, a little darkness in his eyes. “I’m starting to think that you need a little reminder of who is the Alpha in this relationship, and the King in this nation,” he says, firm.

I glare up at him, wriggling a little beneath him, but he holds firm. “I’m allowed to have my opinions!” I snap, starting to get pissed. “I don’t have to agree with everything you say and do!”

“You do not have to agree with it,” he growls, bringing his face close to mine. “But you do have to support it, little mate. We need to present a united front.”

I open my mouth to protest but he silences me with a look. Bitter, I close my mouth.

“There,” he says, slow, satisfied. “I listen to you, Ella,” he continues softly. “I appreciate your input, but this is serious. I cannot have you second- guessing my decisions. I am doing what I know right for both of us – for our family. And you need to trust me.”

I clench my jaw as I stare up at him for a second, but then something in me gives. I turn my attention to my wolf then, seeing her pressing herself close to the ground even as a little grumble rolls in her chest – because even if she doesn’t like it, she respects our mate’s dominance.

And she trusts him. Trusts that he will fight for us, and care for us, and never make a decision that will put us in jeopardy.

And as I see her submit, I know that it’s right. I lift my chin, staring directly into my mate’s eyes, letting him feel my submission down the bond even as my face tells him that I’m not happy about it.

Just the corner of Sinclair’s mouth pulls into a tiny smile as he lowers his face and brushes his lips briefly against mine. And then he takes his other hand, the one not pinning my wrists above my head, and runs it down the length of my flank, dipping down to grip my ass in his palm.

“See? When you do as I say…there are rewards.”

I can’t help it then when my eyes flutter shut when I feel him squeeze my ass, taking control of my body. My head falls back a little bit, baring my neck to him. Sinclair takes immediate advantage of this, pressing his mouth eagerly to my pulse, licking my skin, letting his teeth rasp sharp against my flesh. And I moan as he lets his body press closer against me, letting me feel the weight of him pinning me down.

He growls at the sound of me moaning, hungry for it, loving it. And I I love it too – because as stubborn as I can be, there is something so good about it – something perhaps biological about submitting to my Alpha that makes me want to cede him complete control.

“Say it,” he growls, moving his hand slowly up the length of my body, over my breast and across my neck until he takes my face in his hand and turns it towards him so that I can feel his breath against my lips.

“I submit,” I groan, feeling pleasure shudder through me as I feel the length of him straining against the fabric of his underwear, pressing hard and insistent against my entrance. “I trust you, Dominic – I – I know you’re doing this for us. For all of us.”

And he growls has assent before slipping his free hand down his own body, pressing his boxer briefs down so that he can free himself. Then, when I’m panting for want of him, he presses himself into me, filling me so completely that a moan breaks from my throat when I feel him slide against all of the aching parts inside of me that want all of him, more of him, all the time.

“Good girl,” he murmurs before pressing his mouth to mine and claiming me – claiming all of me as his before we lose ourselves to each other. And I give myself willingly, trusting him completely, as I know he does me. My Alpha, my mate.

Cora

After I dress, I surprise myself by feeling a little shy as I reach for the door to the bathroom to go back to the tiny bedroom where Roger’s waiting or me.

Because, I mean, it’s no secret why we’re here. And Roger’s not stupid – he probably figured out what I was doing when I went into the bathroom with a big white box.

But still – it’s always something, isn’t it? Anticipating what it might be like when the man you love sees you in your wedding dress for the first time. And as I think it, quite suddenly, I can’t wait.

I pull the bathroom door open and step back into the bedroom, my eyes instantly going to Roger, standing by the open doors to the beach, the ocean air lifting his hair lightly in the breeze.

And, as I knew they would be, his eyes are already on me. Because he was waiting. And my face bursts into a grin as his expression goes slack.

I feel it all down the bond, which is open to me right now. His awe, and his pride – his love, his desire, the overwhelming swell of pleasure that comes from seeing how beautiful he thinks I look right now on this night – in this dress

“Cora,” he says, the sound of my name rough as it works its way from his tight throat. But it’s the only word he can manage, lifting a hand to cover his mouth and shaking his head at me, just staring.

I turn a little so that I’m facing him completely, still smiling so hard my face might start aching if I keep this up for much longer.

“So, you like it?” I ask, twisting a little so that he can see more of the dress, see how the beadwork catches the light of the fire and makes the dress look incandescent in the glowing dark of this little bedroom.

He just stares at me for a moment before a little growl rumbles in his chest, his only answer. And I burst out laughing and cross the room to him, holding my hands out.

Roger takes my hands as I come around the bed, using them to pull me closer so that he can slide his hands over my body, feeling the intricacies of the dress for himself, as well as the contrast it presents to the bare skin of my back, my arms. He lowers his face to mine, kissing me softly as he traces his fingertips down the length of my spine, sending shivers all through me.

Then, slowly, he pulls away and takes a step back. “I don’t know what I want I can’t pick – do I want you close, so I can keep my hands on you? Or far away, so I can see again how beautiful you look? God, Cora – this dress was made for you – ”

I wrinkle my nose and smile up at him, terribly pleased. “I’m glad you like it,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I liked it too. Ella made me try on like, a thousand. But this was the one I liked best.”

“Well, it’s perfect,” he sighs. “It’s just a shame that I’m going to have to rip it to shreds when I tear if off your body in like, thirty seconds…”

I gasp and pull away, my hands defensively clutching the dress at my chest. “Roger! Don’t you dare!”

“I don’t know, Cora,” he murmurs, shaking his head at me and closing the distance between us again, hungry. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to help it. How did you even get this thing on, anyway? I’m never going to have the patience for like, a thousand tiny pearl buttons – ”

“There is one zipper,” I say, swatting at him. “And you will respect the dress! It is precious to me! I -”

And then I hesitate, blushing, because I myself now am on the verge of saying something very sentimental.

“What,” Roger says, his mouth quirking up as he senses it. “Tell me.”

“No,” I say, laughing and looking down, shaking my head.

“Cora,” he says, a warning and a command in his voice. And, while those don’t usually do anything for me I have no real intention of letting Roger be the boss of our lives, like Ella and Sinclair – his gentle fingers under my chin, turning my face up to him, persuade more completely. “Please. I want to know.”

“Well,” I say, quiet, staring up at my gorgeous mate, “I never had a mom with a wedding dress to hand down to me. And if we ever have a daughter…”

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