Page 26 of Match My Alpha
His mouth immediately finds my bare stomach. He presses a hot, wet kiss to the soft curve of my belly—the spot he always goes to first. I force myself not to flinch. The insecurity isn't entirely gone, but the reverent, hungry way he treats my body is finally starting to outweigh the fear.
I'm so incredibly wet. Slick soaks my underwear, the heavy scent of my arousal mixing with the warmth of the nest. I push him flat against the pillows and swing my leg over his lap, straddling his hips.
I place my hands flat on his broad shoulders and press down.Stay.
His eyes go dark. His hands twitch at his sides, but he leaves them flat on the mattress. His cock is a thick, hard ridge pressing up against my ass. He goes completely still, the muscles in his thighs jumping with the effort of holding himself back. He's massive. He could flip me onto my back and pin me in aheartbeat, but he's lying here, letting me push him down. The rush of power makes my head spin.
I trail my fingers down his stomach, popping the button of his jeans and dragging the zipper down. I reach inside and free him.
His cock springs out, thick, flushed dark, and heavy. I wrap my fingers around his length, and my breath catches. I still can't quite wrap my head around the fact that this belongs to me. I stroke him slowly. His jaw locks. His breath hitches. His knuckles turn white where he grips the sheets. He's shaking because ofme.
I reach between my own legs, pushing my underwear aside. I push two fingers inside my hole and gasp at the tight stretch. Slick coats my fingers instantly, warm and slippery, dripping down my inner thigh. Callum is watching. He can see everything—my hand working into my own ass, the slick shining on my skin.
"God, Milo," his voice is a ruined rasp, his eyes glued to my hand. "You look—Jesus. You look—"
"Shut up," I snap. My eyes widen a second later. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"Don't apologize." His voice drops an octave. "Don't ever apologize for that."
I pull my fingers out, dripping with slick. I line his thick cock up with my entrance and slowly sink down.
The stretch is unbelievable. Gravity pulls me down onto every inch of him. The broad head of his cock drags perfectly over my prostate, and a flash of white light bursts behind my eyes. I stop halfway, panting, my thighs burning from the effort of holding my own weight.
Callum's large hands fly to my thighs. His thumbs stroke the sensitive skin, steadying me without pushing me down. His jaw is clenched so tight a muscle ticks in his cheek. He's pulsing inside me, desperate to thrust, but he doesn't move an inch.
I sink the rest of the way down. We both groan. Being full of him—his lap flush against my ass, his cock buried so deep I feel it in my stomach—is so overwhelmingly good I can barely see straight. Slick smears across his lap, soaking into the nest beneath us with a wet, obscene sound every time I shift.
I start to move. I roll my hips in slow, grinding circles, keeping him fully lodged inside me while I chase the friction. Every downward roll drags him over my prostate. My thighs shake. My hands brace hard against his chest. His expression is caught somewhere between absolute agony and pure worship.
His hips twitch upward involuntarily.
"Don't move," I breathe, my voice trembling.
Callum goes completely rigid. A low, choked groan of restrained desperation tears out of his throat, and the sound shoots straight to my cock.
I ride him. My legs are screaming, trembling with the sustained effort, but I refuse to stop. Every movement is mine. My cock bobs against his stomach with every slow grind. The wet, slapping sounds of our bodies colliding fill the quiet room.
He reaches a shaking hand up toward my cock.
"Let me," I say, batting his hand away and pushing it back down to the mattress.
His pupils blow so wide his eyes look entirely black. The awed, undone look on his face makes me feel ten feet tall.
"You're killing me," he grinds out, his knuckles white against the blankets. "Milo—you look—God, you have no idea. Your cock is leaking. You're so wet I can feel you dripping down my—"
I grind down hard at the exact right angle, stealing the rest of the words from his mouth.
"Just stay," I pant. "Let me feel you."
He stays. His body vibrates with tension. I set the rhythm, slow and controlled, riding this huge, capable alpha who obeys my every command.
Eventually, he can't take it anymore. His hips snap up, small upward thrusts meeting my downward grind. I could tell him to stop, but I don't. My legs are failing, and his thrusts are hitting impossibly deep. His hands grip my hips—not forcing, just holding me steady—his thumbs pressing hard into the skin above my hip bones. The pace quickens. I throw my head back, moaning loudly, my cock slapping wetly against his stomach.
His hand wraps around my dick, and I nearly black out. His calloused palm strokes my sensitive head in perfect counter-rhythm to his upward thrusts. The dual sensation of being fucked and jerked is too much. I can't form words anymore. Just broken sounds. His name.Please. Right there.
Then, his knot starts to swell.
It builds at the base of his cock, a thick, heavy pressure pressing against my rim with every stroke. My body makes the decision before my brain can process it.
