Page 23 of Swipe My Alpha
Yes.
Good. Touch yourself. And tell me exactly what you're thinking about.
I close my eyes. Lean the seat back. Undo my belt.
I'm thinking about the way you taste. The way you get when I'm inside you, the sounds you make, the way your thighs shake. I'm thinking about your slick on my tongue and the way you said my name in the nest like it was the only word you knew.
Keep going.
My hand is around my cock, stroking slow in the dark of my car like a teenager, and I don't care because his messages keep coming and each one is a command and a punishment and a lifeline all at once.
I'm thinking about knotting you. How tight you get around me, how your whole body locks up when it catches, how you came on my knot without me even touching your cock. I think about that every day. Every single day, Jude.
Are you stroking yourself right now?
Yes.
Good. Don't stop. Tell me more.
I'm thinking about the way you grab my hair and hold me there like you'll die if I stop.
Fuck. Keep going.
I'm thinking about being inside you. How perfect you feel around my cock. How wet you get for me. How you pull me deeper like you can't stand any space between us.
There shouldn't be any space between us. That's the whole point, Rhys. There shouldn't be any space and you put it there.
I keep stroking because stopping won't fix anything and my body is too far gone to listen to the guilt.
You're right. I put it there and I'm going to take it away. I swear.
You don't get to knot me right now. You don't get to be in this nest. You made that choice. So you're going to sit in your car and stroke your cock and think about what you gave up tonight.
It hurts. It's supposed to hurt. I grip myself tighter and keep going.
I know what I gave up. I'm looking at the window right now and I know you're in there and I can feel you through the bond and I would burn my entire career to the ground to be next to you.
Would you?
Yes.
Say it again.
I would give up everything. The program, the references, Albright, all of it. None of it matters. You matter. You're the only thing that matters and I told you to be invisible and that's the worst thing I've ever done.
A long pause. I'm close. My hand is moving faster, my breathing ragged, the bond thrumming hot and desperate in my chest.
I'm so wet right now and you're not here. I'm in our nest and I'm dripping onto our sheets and my hand isn't enough. It's not enough without your cock inside me and your knot filling me up. I hate you for making me feel like this alone.
I come in my fist with his name caught behind my teeth. Hard and aching and hollow, because he's right. It's not enough. Getting off alone in a parking lot while my mate is upstairs, slick and angry and untouched by my hands, is the loneliest orgasm of my life. The relief lasts about ten seconds and thenthe emptiness rushes back in, worse than before, like scratching a wound open instead of letting it heal.
I clean up with a napkin from the glove box. My hand is shaking.
My phone buzzes.
I came. It wasn't good enough. Nothing is good enough without you. Fix this, Rhys.
I stare at the ceiling of my car. The apartment building is a dark shape against the streetlight. Second floor. Our window. He's in there right now, in the nest, alone, and I'm out here because I asked him to be invisible so I wouldn't get in trouble at school.
