Page 5 of Obsession
He laughs, low and mean. "Oh, I'm going to."
I reach back, take his cock in my hand, line him up, and sink down onto him. For a few seconds, my mind blanks out. He's thick. I'm so wet there's barely any resistance, but the fullness—God, the fullness after hours of being empty and aching—makes my vision go white at the edges. I brace both hands on his chest and breathe through it. My thighs are already shaking and I haven't even moved.
"Fuck," Everett says beneath me, and his voice has lost some of its composure for the first time tonight. His fingers are digging into my hips hard enough to hurt. "Fuck, you're tight. You feel — Christ."
I like that. I like that I took words away from him for a second. I roll my hips, slow, testing, and he groans. His head tips back against the mattress and I watch his throat work as he swallows. I could laugh becauseI'm doing this to him.This is what I camefor. This is the alpha who dismantled my team's case without breaking a sweat and right now he's flat on his back with his cock inside me and he can't finish a sentence.
I start to ride him. Slow at first, grinding down on every stroke, angling my hips so he hits the spot that lights me up. It's good. So good. His cock fills me again and again while I set the pace, control the depth. He watches me from below, hands tight on my hips, jaw clenched, breathing heavier with every roll. I'm in charge. This is my show. He's just the cock I'm using to get what I want. If it's the best I've ever had, if the stretch makes me moan every time I sink down, if my slick is running down his shaft and soaking his balls and the sheets, that's just biology.
"Look at you," he says, and his voice has that mean edge back, the one from the floor. He's watching me ride him with an expression I can't fully read behind the mask but his mouth is slightly open and his hands are flexing on my hips. "You wanted to be in charge so badly. This is your idea of winning?"
"Shut up." I grind down hard and he grunts. His hips thrust up to meet me and the impact makes me gasp.
"Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're fucking yourself on my cock and trying really hard to pretend you're not loving it."
"I said shut up."
"You're so wet I can hear it." He's right. I can hear it too, the obscene slick sounds every time I lift and drop, my body so ready for him that there's no friction at all, just wet heat and the sound of it filling the small room. "Every omega on this floor wanted to be where you are right now and you're the one who got it, and you still can't just let yourself enjoy it. You have to make it a fight."
"Maybe you're not that —fuck—" He thrusts up into me hard and I lose the rest of the sentence and my rhythm stutters.
"Not that good?" He does it again, snapping his hips up while he holds mine down, and the angle drives him so deep I feel it in my stomach. "Finish your sentence."
I can't. I can't finish the sentence. He's fucking up into me now, matching my pace, then pushing past it. My rhythm falls apart. Every time I try to control the speed, he drives up harder. I'm making sounds I can't stop—wet, desperate noises every time he bottoms out. My thighs burn from the effort. My cock is hard, leaking onto his stomach. Slick is everywhere, on my thighs, his thighs, running down to the sheets. The room smells like sex, our scents tangled together. I'm losing this. My body is taking over, one thrust at a time.
Then the first real wave of peak heat hits me and the room disappears.
It hits all at once. One second I'm riding him, fighting for control. The next, a wall of need crashes through me so hard I freeze. My whole body goes tight, then loose, then tight again. I can't think past the emptiness, the ache, the animal certainty that I need to be fucked harder, deeper, now. Everything I've been holding together just collapses.
"There it is," Everett says, and his voice sounds far away, or maybe I'm just not processing language very well anymore. His hands tighten on my hips. "That's your heat hitting. I was wondering when you were going to stop fighting it."
I'm shaking. Full-body tremor, starting in my thighs, rolling up through my gut and chest. I'm still sitting on his cock but I can't ride him anymore. Can't coordinate. All I can do is grind down, clench around him, make these sounds I'd be mortified by if I could think straight.
Everett sits up underneath me and wraps one arm around my waist and I grab his shoulders because I'm going to fall otherwise. His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone, my chest, open-mouthed and hot, and his other hand slides down betweenus and wraps around my cock and I jerk into his fist so hard I nearly come off his lap.
"You were so in control ten minutes ago," he says against my skin, stroking me slow while I shake apart on top of him. "Where'd that go?"
I try to sayfuck youbut all that comes out is a long, broken moan. His hand tightens on my cock. The orgasm is building at the base of my spine, but the heat says it's not enough. Being on top isn't enough. I need more. I need to be pinned down, filled, fucked into the mattress. I don't have the pride left to fake it.
He knows. I don't know how but he reads it in my body or my scent or the way I'm clinging to him and shaking, and he lifts me off his cock — the loss of it makes me actually whimper, this pathetic desperate sound — and flips me over onto my stomach so fast the room spins. My face hits the mattress and his weight settles over my back and his cock slides back into me in one long push and I scream into the sheets.
I scream into the sheets. Nothing sexy about it. Just a raw, punched-out noise I couldn't stop if I tried. He's so deep inside me at this angle, deeper than when I was riding him. His weight pins me flat. I can't move. I can't see his face. All I can do is take what he gives.
"That's it," he says against the back of my neck, and he starts to fuck me, and I'm done. Whatever fight I had left is gone. He's driving into me with long, hard strokes and every one pushes a sound out of me that I can't control, these high, broken moans muffled by the mattress, and my hands are fisted in the sheets and my cock is trapped between my stomach and the bed and I'm so wet the sheets are soaked beneath me and I have never in my life felt this out of control and I have never wanted anything this much.
"You feel incredible," he says, and his voice is rough, fraying, not as steady as he wants it to be. "Tightest omega I've ever — fuck, you keep clenching on me like that —"
I'm clenching on him. Can't stop. Every time he pushes in, I bear down, trying to keep him deep. His knot is swelling at the base. Every time it catches on my rim, my whole body jerks.
"I'm going to knot you," he says, and his voice has gone rough and raw like even he is losing his composure, and his pace is changing, going shorter and harder, keeping himself deeper, and I can feel the knot thickening with every thrust.
I try to say something—yes, do it, please, anything—but what comes out is a sob. Just noise, animal and desperate. Tears burn hot on my face under the mask and I don't care. The plan, the revenge, the case—none of it matters. The knot is pressing into me, stretching me open. It hurts, and it's so good. I'm pushing back against it, my body begging even while my brain is gone.
The knot locks and I come so hard I can't see.
My whole body seizes up, clenching down on the knot, and I come harder than I've ever come in my life. My cock pulsing against the sheets, my hole locked tight around the base of him, and it doesn't stop. It just keeps going and going. I'm crying and I'm coming. I can't breathe, and Everett is groaning against the back of my neck, his hips shoved tight against my ass as he spills inside me, and the knot is so big, he's so deep, I can feel him throbbing inside me and the pressure of it triggers another wave and I'm sobbing into the mattress with my fingers twisted in the sheets while my body takes and takes and takes.
The aftershocks last a long time. Small contractions make both of us twitch and gasp. The knot keeps us locked together while my body milks him for everything. My face is wet from crying. The sheets are soaked with slick, come, sweat. I can feel his heartbeat through his cock inside me, or maybe it's my own pulse. I can't tell and I don't care.
