Page 8 of Rebound My Alpha
He walks past me, up the steps, and pulls the door open.
"Hey," I call out. He pauses. "I deserved the catfish. I know that."
"You deserved worse," he says, and the door clicks shut behind him.
I know exactly what’s about to happen. That was Shay—has to be, the protective one from the group chat. He's walking up those stairs right now to tell Benji I'm still here. Which means something is coming. I could still go. I could stand up and walk away.
My ass stays on the concrete.
A few minutes later, the heavy door opens behind me. I don't turn around. His scent hits me before his voice does, rolling down the steps and sinking right into my chest. My whole body lights back up. Every nerve. My cock stirs in my ruined jeans like it didn't just get off an hour ago. Whatever this bond is, it's not letting go.
"You're still here." Benji's voice is flat and furious from the doorway above me.
I stand up and turn around. He's changed his jeans—clean dark ones. He stayed upstairs and cleaned up, expecting me to be gone, but I didn't leave. His hair is pushed back, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps. He looks like he wants to put me in the ground, but he smells like everything I never knew I was looking for.
"You gave me the address," I say. My voice is rough. "I showed up. I'm not the one who runs."
It’s a cheap shot. I am literally the one who ran. But it lands. His eyes go hot. He grabs the front of my jacket, hauling me through the door and up the stairs. I let him. Wherever Benji's dragging me is where I'm supposed to be.
He shoves me through his apartment door, slams it, and pins me against the hallway wall. We're back in the exact spot from an hour ago, except the air is thick with both our scents. Benji is standing in front of me, chest heaving, fists at his sides.
"You want to know what you walked away from?" His voice is mean. His hand is already on my belt. "Let me remind you."
He drops to his knees.
Benji on his knees in his own hallway, looking up at me with that sharp jaw, his nose ring catching the overhead light. He's not kneelingforme. He's kneelingatme. Like this is an act of war. His hands are fast and rough on my zipper, yanking my cock out of my damp underwear. The look he gives it is the same look he gave me in the doorway—like it's something he's going to use and throw away.
He takes me deep on the first stroke. No warmup, no teasing. Just my cock hitting the back of his throat, his mouth hot and tight and furious around me. The flat of his tongue drags along the underside, slick and deliberate. I slam my hand flat against the wall behind me to keep my knees from buckling. He grabs my hips, fingers bruising, setting a punishing, relentless rhythm.
I reach for his hair. He slaps my hand away without missing a beat, shoves my wrist back against the wall, and pins it there for a second before gripping my hip again. I don't get to touch him. I don't get to set the pace. I get to stand here with my back against the plaster and take his mouth and his fury.
His tongue does something on the upstroke that makes my head fall back. I let out a low, gutted groan. My thighs are shaking. He pulls almost all the way off, lips dragging along thehead, then takes me back to the root in one solid thrust. I'm gripping the wall with both hands now.
My knot is swelling. I can feel it thickening at the base, and Benji feels it too. His hand wraps around the swell, working it in tight, controlled strokes that won't let me fully knot. He keeps me right on the fucking edge, and the denial is maddening. He knows exactly how to keep me desperate. Every time he looks up at me, his eyes are wet, but his expression is pure triumph. No mercy.
I come fast. Again. My body locks up, spilling into his mouth with a ragged sound that's mostly his name lost behind my teeth. The bond cranks the orgasm past anything I'm used to. I shake against the wall, trying to stay on my feet.
Benji swallows, pulls off, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks up at me, his face pure victory.
"Remember that," he spits, "next time you think about disappearing."
He stands up and turns to walk away.
Something in me that's been dark all night flickers back on. He actually thinks that's how this ends. That he gets to drop to his knees, wreck me, and walk away victorious.
No. I'm not done. I'm nowhere close to done.
I catch his wrist.
He stops. Turns his head just enough for me to see his profile. I pull him back, close enough that his scent floods my lungs all over again. I look him dead in the eye, my voice dropping into a low, steady rumble.
"Where do you think you're going? I'm not finished with you."
His breath catches. His pupils blow wide. And he doesn't pull away.
Benji
His hand is on my wrist. Thirty seconds ago, I was winning.
