Текст книги "The Alpha of Bleake Isle"

Автор книги: Kathryn Moon

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Chapter EightMAIRWEN

Islid out of the alpha's—Ronson's, I corrected myself—grip and felt as though I could catch my breath for the first time since we'd left dinner alone. I hadn't given a great deal of consideration to his mouth before he'd pressed it to mine, but it was marvelous. And shocking, and very, very skilled, because I couldn't feel anything but the swollen tenderness of my lips and a deep ache in my core.

"It's true that I…I'm not really prepared for your rut," I said, braving a glance at Ronson, choking on air slightly at the sight of his dark and probing gaze. He'd been sending deadly looks to my dress all night, but it wasn't censure to me, and my uncomfortable corset had never been more of a strain to wear than it was now. The scratch and drag of his stubble against my breasts was still vivid in my head, and my hand fluttered up to cover the spot he'd nipped at and swirled his tongue over.

"I've never seen a man naked," I blurted out, stumbling backwards.

Ronson's eyes narrowed, and his smile was the curved edge of a blade. "Would you like to?"

"If it was you," I admitted, my face on fire.

Ronson stiffened and his eyes fell shut, a low, rumbling purr rising from his chest. His shoulders rolled, and then he was pulling at the snaps and ties that fastened his jacket in place.

"Wait!" I cried out, and he stopped immediately, coat sleeve still clinging to one thickly muscled arm. I swallowed hard and unclenched my hands. "You said…you said we should explore each other."

Ronson nodded, and I wondered if he realized how absolutely terrifying his expression was. I was reasonably sure he wasn't mad at me. He was rough and growling and glaring, but his mouth had been much gentler than Gryffyd's as he kissed me, thorough but tender.

I tiptoed tentatively back to his side, and he released the fabric of his coat, giving me his arm instead so I could complete the task.

"You undress me, I undress you, we take turns?" Ronson asked.

I winced at the idea of him unbinding my laces and corset and seeing me in all of my…me-ness. "Well. I was thinking tonight would be my turn to explore you, and then…maybe…tomorrow⁠—"

"You're not getting into my nest until I get you out of that awful contraption," Ronson grumbled, a shameless finger hooking between my breasts and down into the collar of my dress to tug against my corset, the warm digit wedged against sensitive skin and making me break out in gooseflesh. "Even if it is your turn."

It was an awful contraption, and I let out a snort at the masculine snarling pout on his lips.

"I get to keep my chemise on," I bargained. It was quite thin, but in the shadow of the nest it might offer a little disguise.

Ronson was silent, and I glanced up to find him staring speculatively down at my chest again. Surprisingly, he blushed when he realized I was watching him.

"Fine," he said.

I sighed and tugged his coat sleeve away at last, stepping back to study his white linen shirt. There were carefully disguised buttons under a folded placket that ran across the line of his shoulder and then down his back to his wings. I reached up and started on his right side, relieved as he tipped his head back and away, eyes lifted up to the ceiling and giving me a break from their oppressive focus.

"I won't know what I'm doing," I murmured, unpicking the buttons one at a time and taking the opportunity to admire the strong lines of his throat, the shadow of a beard that hadn't been on his face this morning.

"Hm?"

"When I'm…exploring. Touching you."

"That's the point of doing it," he said, shrugging.

"Well, yes, but…you'll have to give me some indication when it goes right."

His eyes closed, and his chest shook. I considered attacking the line of buttons down his chest but moved to his left shoulder instead, repeating the process.

"I will endeavor not to hide my pleasure from you, Mairwen. But I don't predict that being a problem."

I paused, both of his shoulders unbuttoned, the first dark curls of hair on his chest exposed. "Really?"

He lifted his head and stared down at me. "Have I seemed indifferent thus far?"

My mouth opened and shut. He had at dinner, sitting at the opposite side of the table. But in the hall…his hands gripped and squeezed me, dragging me closer, dark sounds of hunger echoing from his mouth into mine.

"I suppose not," I said, taking a solid breath and plucking one silver button after another down the line of his chest. He had a glimmer of rust and gold scales under the dark hair covering his chest, and I fought the urge to touch him for a moment before realizing that was precisely the bargain we'd made together.

Ronson groaned and his head fell back as my fingertips slid into the curls, stroked down, and tapped against the smooth and tensing planes of his stomach. He was the largest man I'd ever met, which was only right considering he was the alpha, but I'd always felt too tall, too heavy. He dwarfed me. And he lifted me off my feet with one arm, flying me around the island and carrying me through the castle as if it required no effort on his part.

He could've tossed Adelaide around like a feather, I supposed, frowning slightly.

And then Ronson's hands covered mine over his stomach, and I forgot about the other omega, the one who by pure and strange luck—and terrible judgment—had lost her chance at being chosen by this alpha. Ronson guided my hands down to his hips, where a twin line of buttons would open his trousers.

"We can stop," he offered in a low, rough tone.

My hands were shaking slightly, and it was more obvious as his steady grip held mine. I was stubbornly avoiding thinking about one moment to the next, about the fact that I'd agreed to undress down to my thin slip, about how small I'd made the nest around the bed and how close Ronson and I would be, alone and surrounded by the thin swathes of cotton.

But I was curious.

"No," I said, continuing as his hands had guided, working on either line of the buttons at the same time.

Ronson's breath made his chest fill and sigh quickly, and he jerked his arms back, pulling his shirt off as I opened his trousers. He had another single line of buttons down a short placket over his groin, keeping his drawers fixed around his hips, and I undid those as well, until the layers of black wool and cream linen sagged. The dark hair of his chest narrowed to a thick line leading down between two beautiful arcs of muscle, and then widened again to a familiar, thick coat of curls, not entirely unlike the one at the V of my own hips.

"I forgot about my damned boots," Ronson muttered. "Come to the nest."

I blinked as he spun us around, ignoring the loose hang of his pants as he strode toward the bed. I gaped, remaining in place for a moment, watching his golden back shifting between the frame of massive black wings. I certainly hadn't taken those into account when I'd built the nest.

He had dimples at the base of his back, and he had to shuffle as his pants continued to droop, revealing a round swell of a firm ass.

He chose me? I thought. And I'd just declared that I would explore him for the night. Have my turn first. Perhaps that had been a mistake. I'd been recalling the rough force and uncomfortable jerks of my body Mr. Evans had delivered the night before and thinking it would be better if I could hold onto some control to start. But Ronson's touches and kisses had left me weak and melting and biting down on my tongue to keep from begging for more.

"Actually, I'd better deal with the boots myself," Ronson said, grunting as he yanked on the heel of a boot.

My lips quirked at the sight of him. He was seated on the bed, the curtains of the nest I'd built draped open and hanging over his wings. I twisted my arms behind my back, pulling the laces of my dress loose, checking to make sure he was distracted as I lifted it up over my head. One boot thunked against the floor, and I turned at the waist, attending to the ties of the petticoat around my middle.

My maid had dressed me in one of the longer corsets, attempting to flatten and slim my shape according to my mother's instructions, but it meant the laces were all in the back and harder to reach. I wrestled and strained for a few moments, glaring at the glittering sea out of the large windows, until a warm and large pair of hands caught mine.

"Let me."

My breath froze in my chest and my hands hovered behind my back as Ronson's warmth billowed around me, the bindings of my laces tugging and loosening as he pulled them through their loops. My arms drooped, hands hanging numbly at my side, and I shivered and swallowed a whimper when his knuckles grazed through my thin chemise along my spine.

"Why do you wear these so tight?"

I had to swallow twice before I could answer. "It's fashionable to be…willowy and small. I am neither." Not that he would've needed me to point as much out.

His breath puffed over my shoulder, down into the increasingly loose collar of my chemise. "I've been looking forward to taking this off you all day, Mairwen," Ronson rumbled.

I had no idea what to say to that, and then the laces were gone and I could breathe, breathe and groan as my back bowed and my breasts pounded, aching and unbound. Ronson shoved the stern panels of the corset to the floor, and his arms wrapped around my soft stomach, tugging me back into his chest. I could feel the soft brush of his chest hair through the thin fabric of the chemise, and the gentle prod of his—Oh!

I tried to twist, but he was surrounding me, rubbing his evening beard against my hair. His lips grazed the shell of my ear and his voice purred, warm and low, "If tonight was my turn, I would take your breasts in my hands and squeeze and stroke them. I'd pull your collar open until I could kiss the marks of the corset away, make you all pink and tender with my mouth. Are your nipples sensitive, Mairwen?"

I let out a strangled noise, and then Ronson lifted one index finger up, grazing over my left nipple, and it budded to a tight peak. I whined, and the alpha holding me rumbled.

"Oh, very sensitive," he rasped, and then his head ducked, burrowing his face against my throat, his breath cascading hotly over my flesh. "Tomorrow, I'm going to suck and bite and lick your perfect, full breasts until you gush, omega."

My eyes widened, and if it weren't for Ronson's arms around my waist, I would've collapsed. I ought to have been entirely ignorant to what he meant, but mostly I was just shocked at the idea that such a thing were possible. Just from…my breasts? Usually it took⁠—

"Oh!" I gasped, clutching my arms around Ronson's shoulders as he caught my legs with one arm and carried me toward the nest. "It's—I could f-fix the nest a little more if⁠—"

"Leave it," Ronson ground out, catching the edge of one sheet with a hook of his wing, pushing it aside and ducking down. He nearly took the whole thing down with us, and the bedsheet was cool against my back as he slid us both into the small hollow of space I'd created at the heart of the vast bed.

"B-but," I stammered, eyeing the way his wings grazed and hooks snagged on the shelter I'd created.

"Mairwen, if you want us to simply sleep, or…um…talk," Ronson started, brow furrowing at the offer he was making, "we can do that instead. But you're not fussing with the nest tonight. And I need just a moment of…mmmm."

My breath hitched as the many many inches of Lord Ronson Cadogan's huge frame pressed onto me from above. He was heavy and wonderful and so warm, and his hips were thick between my thighs, chest hair prickling through my chemise to tickle at my stomach and breasts. He sighed, lying on top of me, his rough cheek scrubbing into my hair.

"Your corset is a crime. I'd like to burn it."

I laughed as much as I was able under his weight, and my hands grew curious, sliding from his shoulders to the base of his wings. I remembered going swimming in the stream of the woods with my father once when I was a little girl, clinging around his neck between his wings, their leathery surface hot from the dappling summer sunlight. It was the one and only time I'd ever had an opportunity to touch wings until now, and I remembered less of that part of the afternoon than the joy of having my father's undivided attention.

My father's wings had seemed enormous at the time, but he was a small man compared to Ronson, and the leather of his dragon was a softer taupe shade than Ronson's gleaming violet-black.

A silent gasp ruffled the hair against my ear as I tiptoed my finger over the tough join of his back to his wing, up the protected bone to the strong and hollow spines, and the curiously rough texture of the skin between them.

"No one's touched my wings in a long time," Ronson mumbled in my ear. They flexed gently, spreading as much as they were able in the small space I'd afforded them, shadowing us from the candlelight of the room outside.

I was curious about so many things. I wanted to know the texture of his hair around his brow, and how it differed from that on his chest and the scratch of his beard. I was curious about the gentle poke of his own nipples against my chest, almost close enough to touch one of mine. I was very curious about the long pressure against my right thigh, and the way every few seconds his hips would nuzzle between mine, rubbing that length to me.

But…

"Lie down on your belly," I said, pulling my hands from his back. Ronson grunted, not in outright refusal but probably disinterest, considering he didn't move a hair. "I'm exploring, and I'm starting with your wings."

He huffed at that, rising just enough to glare down at me. "My wings?"

I nodded. "Go on. Move."

Ronson's lips quirked and then he groaned, pushing against the mattress to lift himself above me, shuffling around my body. I caught a brief glimpse of a long, thick protuberance and nearly changed my mind about where to start, but Ronson dropped down at my side with a wince and a shuffle of his hips.

It took me a moment to scramble out from under Ronson's wing, tugging my chemise from where he'd trapped it with his thigh, and the whole nest rustled as I sat up, but the view was worth the struggle.

He had the most absurdly round, and perfect ass. It didn't matter that I hadn't known what a perfect ass might look like before now. I was wholeheartedly confident this one was. My mouth watered at the sight of the globes, of the curve and hollow of muscle along the sides. I forgot my goal of exploring his wings at the sight of the quick dip against his thighs, also decorated with dark curling hair, and my hand reached out of its own accord, helping itself to a squeeze of his flesh. Ronson chuckled into the bed, and his hips flexed, tightening and changing the shape of the thick muscle under my hand.

"That's not my wing⁠—"

"Shh. You'll have your turn tomorrow," I mumbled, ignoring the mess the tented sheet was making of my hair as I swung one leg over both of Ronson's and stared down at the exquisite, bronzed form below me.

He laughed, a quick bark of sound. "And I will be planning my attack every minute until then," he warned. But he squirmed, spreading his thighs until the hair on them brushed the inside of my own legs.

I watched as his motion revealed a softly furred mound of flesh between his thighs, and I reached down, grazing my fingers, marveling at the strangeness. Ronson bit off a garbled yell into the mattress, his hips kicking and wings beating once.

My eyes widened. "What's this?"

He let out a long, muffled groan, wings tucking back in, candlelight wavering through the rustling sheets of the nest. "My sac. Balls. Very sensitive," he ground out.

I snatched my hand away. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to hurt⁠—"

"It didn't hurt, Mairwen," he rumbled.

Oh.

I hesitated, torn between more curious exploring or moving onto safer territory.

"Touch me again." The words were a velvety rasp, and I glanced up, past the slight curtain of Ronson's wings, to see his knuckles pale where they fisted a pillow. "Please."

I hummed and scooted back, and Ronson's thighs spread eagerly, offering a clearer and more explicit view. I blinked for a moment, staring at the secretive shadows, the curve of his ass tucking down into the soft hair of his sac. He must've been lying on his length.

If Mother knew what I was looking at⁠—

I cut the thought out of my head and focused on the moment. I was exploring the Alpha of Bleake Isle, who had chosen me as his omega, we were alone, and tonight the rest of the island did not exist. I reached out, cupping one cheek of his ass in my hand and pushing it aside. Ronson shuddered, and I did my best to not think about him returning this study in kind tomorrow evening. With my other hand, I gathered up the tender mound between his legs, rolling it against my palm. Ronson hissed and groaned and rocked against the bed, and I bit my lips hard to avoid giggling.

It was lumpy and pulsing in my hand, and he was clearly…tortured by the touch.

He cursed and moaned my name, and I enjoyed a strange, thrilling victory. This was better by far than being chosen on a stage as hundreds of dubious eyes watched on. I had our alpha in my hands, whimpering and shivering, and all because I held a small, warm, and vulnerable part of him against my palm. His ass was clenching and his hands were scrambling in the sheets and his feet were shifting restlessly. He gasped as I squeezed him, groaned as I tugged on the handful, and let out a soft, broken cry as I molded the soft form in my grip.

"Mairwen! Stop, I'll-I'll⁠—"

I did stop, although I was a little disappointed to have my power called away.

Ronson sagged and let out a soft laugh, muttering to himself, "Not against the sheets like a boy." He twisted, glancing at me over the ridge of his wing. "Can I roll over now?"

I hummed and shook my head. "I haven't done what I came for."

His eyes narrowed. "Fine. But…no more of that just yet. I'll embarrass myself."

I wasn't entirely sure why, but that claim made me feel quite warm and delighted.

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Chapter NineRONSON

This is what comes of letting a curious, fearless virgin have free rein to explore, I thought, burying my panting breaths into the bed as Mairwen feathered light touches over the surprisingly sensitive stretch of my wings. And in spite of the sticky pool of arousal pressed between my belly and the mattress, and the painfully sharp ache of my erect cock, and the fact that Mairwen had been over my wings twice now and studied every inch of what was available to her from my position face down while leaving me simmering and ready to burst, I was grinning.

Mairwen was perfuming.

I was gasping at the air, searching for every lick of the heady, dizzying scent of her, trying not to rut into the bed and set myself off into the sheets. Although perhaps that would be better. Maybe Mairwen would elect to leave me face down for the rest of the night. Or maybe she would let me roll over and approach my dripping, throbbing cock with the same studious determination she'd met my sac with, and I'd shoot off at the first chance and terrify her with my roar.

But I didn't care what happened next. She was perfuming.

I groaned as her hands pulled away from my wings, brushing briefly around my hips, and my grin turned into a frown as she shuffled off the back of my legs. I liked her heat against me.

"Roll over."

My brain stalled at the gentle command.

"Can you lie on your wings, or will it hurt?"

Roll over, damnit, I snapped at myself. I pulled my wings in close, ignoring the odd, reluctant pang, as if they already missed the young woman's touch, and pushed myself up from the mattress, grimacing at the wet stain I'd left on the sheet. I would have to either lie on top of that, or let Mairwen see what she'd done to me. And then probably have to answer carefully posed and torturously innocent questions about why my cock was weeping.

I sighed as I turned and then collapsed roughly at the picture of Mairwen kneeling at my side. I landed in the wet spot, and my cock bounced and slapped against my belly.

She was…lovely.

Her hair was mussed, and strands rose and clung to the sheet around her head like a chaotic halo. The candlelight that bled through the sheets into our nest made a valiant effort at cutting into her chemise too, revealing a cruel glimpse of the lushest curves I'd ever even imagined. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and fixed to my stomach—no, my cock, I realized—and her lips pursed in consideration, growing full and tempting.

"Mairwen," I called.

"Hmm?" She trailed her fingers through the hair on my thighs, grazing around the taut line of a tensing muscle, but her eyes remained focused on my twitching length. It was eager for an introduction to those exploring fingers.

"Come here," I said.

She blinked and glanced up, brow furrowing.

"Come explore my mouth for a moment," I continued. I want to kiss you.

She smiled, and I bit off a moan as her hand made an absent path up my thigh, over my hip and chest, skirting my needy length as she stretched out at my side. It was meant to be her night, but I was impatient, and I grabbed for her, dragging her to lie on top of me, claiming the back of her neck in one hand to draw her mouth down to mine.

I told myself to be gentle, tentative, but Mairwen sighed and her breath was sweet and her perfume was stronger up close like this, and I'd lost the grasp on my control a quarter of an hour ago when she'd nuzzled her soft cheek against the back of my thigh. I groaned and licked into her open mouth, devouring her whimper with a swirl of my tongue, searching her mouth for her flavor and then mourning the loss as I stole it away.

My hands were equally greedy and unmanageable, helping themselves to full handfuls of her flesh through the soft chemise. I stroked her thighs, then couldn't help but wrap my arms around her waist to yank her closer. The barrier of the cotton between our bodies caused boiling frustration to race through me, and I rooted for the hem before settling on gathering it up with fistfuls of her perfect, plush ass.

"Ronson!"

I growled against her lips, then scraped my teeth over them and found them slick and swollen from kisses. Was she slick and swollen between her thighs too? Could I move the chemise and plant her pussy on my cock, rock against her until we both found relief?

Delicate fingers wrapped around my wrists, and I arched up, grinding myself into cotton and soft flesh. The fingers tightened, cuffing my hands.

"Ronson," Mairwen called, tone sharp and cutting through the haze.

My head cleared enough to release her, and she drew my cuffed hands away from her body, pushing them back into the pillows under my head. My eyelids drooped, and my hips bucked in a plea. I did not mind being at Mairwen's mercy in the least, not with the collar of her chemise coming loose, offering me exquisite shadows to guess at.

"It's my turn still," she said, smiling.

"You're doing too good a job," I answered, groaning as her perfume richened in the air. Compliments. "And you feel perfect on top of me, don't you think? Bring your mouth back, Mairwen."

The pink stains on her cheeks were running down her throat, and she tore her gaze from mine. "This was easier when you weren't looking at me."

I laughed, and she straightened, still holding my hands down, not that I was fighting her. I hadn't offered to let women lead in bed very often, but Mairwen made a compelling case for the dynamic, as shy and unpracticed as she was. She released my hands slowly and one at a time, eyes narrowed like she was expecting me to grab at her again. I left them in the pillows, the picture of surrender.

She rose up on her knees, brushing her hair back, frowning at the partially pinned tangles she found. They clung to the low roof of the nest and gathered static, tickling at her cheeks. When she scooted back, the skirt of her chemise caught on my cock. I hissed, arching and twisting, trying to rise into the brief pressure, but she was quick, snatching the fabric away to reveal my swollen and darkened flesh.

There was a shiny dribbling trail leading from my belly to my cock, and Mairwen hummed, stroking her thumb through the mess. I held my breath, my eyes growing so wide, I thought they might fall out of my face, as she raised her thumb to her nose, sniffing briefly and then parting her lips. Her eyes caught mine, tongue poised against her bottom lip, and she froze.

"Don't stop," I gasped out.

Mairwen blinked, expression wavering as she struggled over a decision, probably between obeying my request or asking me a dozen questions. Why was I leaking? Why did she like the scent? Why did I like the idea of her tasting me? Instead, she glanced away and pressed her thumb to her tongue. Her eyelashes fluttered and her lips curved in a smile. An alpha would taste almost as good to an omega as an omega would to an alpha. Which only made me torn between encouraging her to taste me or begging her to come and hover her sex over my mouth.

"There's so much of you," she murmured. I broke out into a rakish grin at the announcement, but she didn't look at my face, just continued. "So much that's unfamiliar, but also…"

I was only briefly disappointed that her gaze left my cock, because she moved her hands up to my chest next, planting them over the thick muscles and coarse curls and squeezing, not unlike the way I wanted to be squeezing her breasts. She blushed and shied her stare away.

"Close your eyes," she said.

"Don't ask that."

"Please?"

I chewed over my refusal. She'd been brave enough to fondle my balls when I'd been on my belly, and she hadn't so much as accidentally nudged my cock now that I was looking at her. With a heavy sigh, I closed my eyes.

Waiting like this was torture. I stiffened as Mairwen's breath rustled over my chest, and the soft, light weight of her chemise grazed my cock.

"Would I really gush just from you…you know, like you said earlier?" she asked.

I peeked one eye open, and a strangled moan rose from my chest as Mairwen traced a fingertip around my small, dark nipple. "I th-think so," I rasped out. "It's possible, and I'd like to try."

"Hmm," she mused, and I forced my eye shut once more, clenched them tight, and braced as Mairwen's head lowered to my chest.

Her mouth was warm and gentle, tracing over my chest in small kisses, tongue occasionally peeking out.

"Let me touch you," I begged as she covered me in those tiny wet marks.

"Only a little," she answered. "Hold my hair back?"

My hands shook, but she was too busy to notice, and her hair was silky and smooth as I gathered every stray strand back, combing pins out of limp curls, struggling not to force her mouth where I wanted it. There were too many directions to choose from anyway. Aside from the obvious need to shove her down to my aching cock, was an almost equal imperative to drag her up back up to my mouth, to direct her toward all the small places she'd missed earlier and had yet to greet. One of her hands was circling fingertips around my right nipple until it was so sweetly sore I thought I might burst, and the other was gently scratching her nails over my hip, close but not close enough to my length.

"Mairwen, please," I whispered.

I didn't know what I was begging for, but it wasn't my decision anyway. Mairwen was exploring, and when her open mouth covered my neglected nipple, tongue circling at the same patient pace as her fingertips, we were both in uncharted territory. My breathing was ragged and full of whimpers, my hips lifting from the bed until I found her belly, grinding shamelessly against her.

"This is what you want to do to me?" she asked, voice so light and calm in comparison to the devastation she was raining down on me.

"Yes, and—" It took me several tries to swallow.

"And?" she prompted.

"And suck."

She let out a small sound of curiosity, and then she was sucking on me. My eyes opened wide at the first beautiful tugging sensation, a lightning-sharp zing of pressure down to the base of my balls. My wings burst out from under me, snagging and tearing on the sheet walls of the nest, tugging one free from the knot she'd formed and dropping it down on top of us.

Mairwen pulled away, and I choked on an agonized roar, pulling my fingers free from her hair to tear the sheet back off, throwing it over the edge of the bed with a curse.

"Oh dear," she said, in the smallest voice.

"It doesn't matter," I snarled, fighting the urge to gather her to my chest, to tear the rest of the nest down, and roll her into the mattress, to bury myself inside of her and never leave until I'd explained in detail and action every other depraved thing I would've liked to explore with her.

Except I saw her face, fallen and disappointed, wincing at the brighter light of the candles, her shoulders hunching high.

Compliments, damnit. And…

"Please, Mairwen. Please don't stop."

She blinked, her shoulders dropping, and her eyes found mine.

"Fang's fire, omega, don't stop touching me. I'll… Mairwen, please." Only a tiny percent of my pained pleas were calculated to distract her from the disaster of the nest.

A tiny smile curved her lips, and she knelt between my spread legs, staring down at me. Her chemise was stuck to my slick cock, and she peeled it away, finally giving my eager length the attention I'd craved from the start. The hand that had been holding my hip skirted closer, and I held my breath for a moment, until I realized she was watching me again.

"Please."

Her fingers circled me gently, and I collapsed with a groan, wings limp and eyes rolling back. Her touch skirted away and then returned, the smooth back of her hand stroking up my length, fingers petting down. She bent her head and kissed down my chest, nose nuzzling against the dark trail of hair, her own loose locks grazing against my clenching stomach.

I was shamefully close to the edge, but at least Mairwen wouldn't realize how easily she'd unmade me, turned me into a weak and desperate puddle of an alpha. Then again…

"You're very good at exploring, omega," I growled, victory blending with hunger as her perfume curled shyly in the air. "Too good. You're going to make me spill."