Page 6 of Swipe My Alpha
"Surprise."
"Holy shit." He reaches out and traces the line of ink across my ribs, his fingers light and curious, and my stomach muscles jump under his touch. "You're full of secrets, hand guy. This is so hot I'm actually mad about it."
I almost laugh. "You want to leave me that review now or later?"
"Definitely later. You haven't earned it yet." He scoots back on the bed, pulls his own shirt off in one smooth motion, and lies back against the pillows like he's posing for something. He's lean and beautiful, warm skin over wiry muscle, and there's a confidence in the way he spreads himself out that makes my mouth go dry. "Your move. Show me what those hands can do."
I crawl over him. Kiss his neck, his collarbone, the dip of his throat. He tilts his head back, giving me access, and I take my time with it. Lips and tongue and the occasional scrape of teeth. He's responsive in a way that makes me want to catalog every reaction. A gasp when I bite his earlobe. A full-body shiver when I kiss the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. His hips rolling up against mine when I pin one of his wrists loosely above his head.
"Don't be gentle," he says. Not mean. Almost surprised. Like he expected me to handle him with kid gloves. "I don't break."
"I know." I press my mouth against his pulse point. "But I told you I'd take my time. And I keep my promises."
"Oh god, you're one of those," he groans, but he's smiling, and his fingers are threading through my hair, pulling me closer.
I work my way down his body. Mouth over his chest, his stomach, the trail of dark hair below his navel. I undo his jeans and pull them off. His cock is hard and flushed against his stomach, straining against his boxer briefs, a wet patch already darkening the fabric. I mouth at him through the cotton, tracing the shape of him with my lips, and he says "fuck, fuck, okay" in a voice that's lost all its bravado. I pull his briefs down and take hiscock in my hand, stroking slow, thumbing over the head where he's leaking. He's thick and cut and his hips buck into my fist.
That's when I notice it. The smell.
Not his cologne. Not the citrus thing. Something underneath all of that, something that's been building since I first leaned in to kiss him and I couldn't quite name it. It hits me now like a door swinging open. Sweet and warm and electric, like honey and smoke and something green, like crushed leaves after rain, and my entire body goes rigid.
My brain whites out.
Not figuratively. Not like "oh I'm really turned on." I mean the world narrows to a single point and that point is him, the omega underneath me, the scent pouring off his skin. Every cell in my body is screaming one word so loud I can't hear anything else.
Mine.
I freeze. My hands are shaking. Not the nervous trembling from before. Something deeper. Something primal that I've never felt, not once, not with anyone. My alpha is clawing to the surface like it's been asleep my entire life and just woke up starving.
He notices. Of course he notices. "Hey." His voice is careful now. "You okay? You just went really still."
I can't speak. I'm breathing him in and every inhale makes it worse. Better. Worse. I don't know. His scent is the best thing I've ever smelled. I want to drown in it. I want to press my face into his neck and never move again. I want to be inside him so deep that his body doesn't know where mine ends.
"Hey." He touches my face. His fingers are gentle. "Talk to me. What's happening?"
"You," I manage. My voice sounds wrecked. "You smell..."
Something shifts in his expression. His eyes go wide. His nostrils flare and I watch his pupils blow open, the brownswallowed by black. He breathes in sharply and his whole body arches off the bed like he's been shocked.
"Oh," he whispers. "Oh no. Oh no no no."
He smells it too. He smells me the way I smell him and we both know what this is. This isn't a hookup. This isn't anonymous. This is fate handing us a live grenade and pulling the pin.
"I can't," I say, and I don't know what I'm saying I can't do because my hands are already pulling his underwear off and his hands are already on my belt and neither of us is stopping.
"This is insane," he says, and then he wraps his legs around my waist and pulls me down against him. The full-body contact of skin on skin with his scent flooding my lungs makes me groan so loud the room next door probably heard it.
He's wet. Soaking. Slick coating his inner thighs, the sheets, my fingers when I reach between his legs. His cock is still hard against his belly, flushed dark and leaking onto his skin. His body recognized me before his brain did and the evidence is everywhere, hot and slippery and obscene. I press two fingers inside him and he clenches around me and cries out, his back bowing, his hands clawing at my shoulders.
"More," he gasps. "God, more, please, I need your cock inside me, I can't, I need—"
I shove my jeans and briefs down and push into him in one long slide. He takes me so easily, so perfectly, his body opening around my cock like it was designed for exactly this, and the sound that comes out of both of us is something I'll hear for the rest of my life. He's tight and hot and dripping wet. I'm buried to the balls inside him and my vision is blurred and nothing, nothing in my entire carefully organized existence has ever felt like this.
He grabs my face with both hands. Forces me to look at him. His eyes are glassy and wild and his mouth is trembling. "Move," he says. "Fuck me. Now."
I move. I fuck him deep and steady and he wraps himself around me, legs locked behind my back, nails scoring lines down my spine and over my tattoos, and he's loud. Beautifully loud. Begging and cursing and telling meharder, there, right there, don't stop. His cock is trapped between our stomachs, slick with precome, grinding against my abs with every thrust. I follow every instruction because that's all I know how to do right now. His scent is everywhere. In my mouth, my lungs, soaked into my skin. Every thrust pushes another wave of it into the air and I'm drunk on it, my alpha snarlingminewith every heartbeat.
My knot starts swelling. I feel it building at the base of my cock, thickening with every stroke, and some distant, rational part of my brain saysyou should warn him, you should askbut he feels it too and his reaction is to pull me deeper.
