Alpha's Fire (Shifter Ops 4)

He raises his head and sniffs the air. His eyes flash gold. “Exquisite.”

I squirm a little, knowing he’s scenting my sex. He stills me with a firm hand on either thigh.

“I’ll drink your essence from the source,” he vows.

Oh, God. Mini orgasm.

A dark smile slants across his face. “As you will do with mine.””

“Keep dreaming,” I bluster, but my eyes flick to the impressive bulge in his black slacks. He’s super well-endowed. My inner muscles clench down on air.

He probes me with the knife butt, sliding the smooth handle up and down in a vertical line between my labia lips. Over and over until my hips are rocking.

I whimper when he takes the knife away. With a growl, he lies on the bed with his face at the apex of my legs. His hands slide under my buttocks, lifting me. He kisses my left, then right thigh, his dark hair tickling the sensitive skin. And then he tastes me.

I’ll drink your essence from the source.

With my hips lifted, my only view is of the tanned plane of my midriff and the shock of his raven black hair. I can’t see what's going on. I can only feel. Gabriel’s fingers splay my labia lips, holding me open to his questing tongue. My flesh is swollen and wet from his earlier fingering and my orgasm against the door. This time, when I come, my core clenches, and I try to jacknife off the bed. But I can’t move because I’m tied down.

The orgasm wracks my body. Pleasure is a cruel master, straining my already overworked muscles. But still Gabriel’s mouth works over my sex, licking, swirling, sucking me down.

Already my orgasm is rising again. I thrash my head back and forth as if I can deny it.

“Gabriel,” I plead.

He sits up, his lips wet with my essence. He licks them, and the sight sends another shudder through me. His fingers never leave my body. They twist and probe, circling my clit until my arousal spirals higher.

The pad of his thumb slides down my perineum to press against my rear hole.

My eyes widen. “Gabriel,” I warn.

It’s no use. He makes me come again with his thumb stroking my rear entrance, stimulating the dark nerves. It’s a fuller, more whole sort of pleasure. I hate it. I hate that it feels good.

“Stop.” I sigh when his fingers keep moving. His face is in shadow, but I know his gaze is locked on my face. My body is floating off the bed. Endorphins have eclipsed gravity’s hold on me. Only the metal ties keep me to earth.

“A few more, tesoro mio.”

I jerk my foot. I would kick him if I weren’t cuffed. “But what about you?”

His head tips back, lips parting as if he’d drink my scent from the air. “Ah, yes.”

He rises up on his knees. He’s still fully clothed, unmussed and unwrinkled. I’m a slick and sweaty mess. How does he look so perfect?

If I got free at this moment, the first thing I’d do would grab his head and muss up his hair.

Gabriel opens his slacks enough to take out the proud length of his cock. My eyes snap to it: hard and angry, pre-cum glistening on the tip.

He fists his erection and strokes one giant hand up and down. His eyes lock on mine. He bares his teeth. His strokes quicken. I watch, far more fascinated than I want to be. His breath quickens, and a muscle jumps at his jaw. He stops his breath, and then cum splashes over my bare midriff.

Gabriel growls a word in that guttural language of his. I can guess what it means. Mine.

At this point, I’m too overcome to debate it. The robot arms slacken, but I’m too wrung out to move.

He stretches out beside me, and he pulls me into his arms. I typically hate cuddling; it’s so awkward, and my partner and I never fit.

But Gabriel and I fit together perfectly. I’m tall and gangly for a woman, but his big body curls around mine. My ass is cradled by his hips. I’m naked, and he’s still clothed. Tomorrow, I’ll mess up his hair. I'm too tired now.

His head presses into my hair. His lips find my bare neck. “You're my perfect treasure.”

“I'm not yours,” I mutter.

“But you are, little one. I have claimed you. And soon you will admit it.”

I yawn. “I won’t,” I say sleepily, but I can’t deny I’m about to fall asleep in my kidnapper’s arms, and it feels amazing.

Gabriel

I am a man who enjoys games. Cat and mouse. Hide and seek. Run and chase.

The hunter in me loves to amuse himself this way, and I usually care not whether my opponent enjoys the game or not. But with Tabitha, I’m conflicted.

Is she playing with me?

She allowed me to pleasure her, and I know she enjoyed it. Yet I also believe her protests are genuine. That she’s not playing a game to string me along, to make me prove myself.