Mylo feels the lock too; his breath freezes in his lungs, back arching.
The pressure gives, and my hips lift away. I huff at the sudden emptiness, and Mylo lets out a plaintive whine until I sink around him again. I squeeze tight, and his shuddering breath signals his relief.
Keeping a thread of coherent thought through this aching, pulsing need is like building a sand castle underwater, but somehow I manage.
Mylo said he’d never gone into heat before, so he might not be able to form a full lock yet. I force myself back into my smooth rhythm, rocking my clit against his hips, squeezing tight, resisting the urge to lift and pull.
Mylo unravels beneath me, gasping and panting, melting into surrender.
It’s exquisite.
I release his pinned hands, letting his tank-top fall to the side. My arms slide down behind him to cradle his head and shoulders, and my hips work that steady rhythm to give him exactly what he needs.
His cock throbs rhythmically against my inner walls, and I can’t tell if he’s cumming or leaking—though it doesn’t really matter. Neither will stop for a long while.
As Mylo’s breathing tips into overwhelmed sobs, my lips drop to his feverish skin, drifting kisses across his cheeks and neck.
His spine tenses. “I c-can’t… I can’t stop… cumming…”
“Shhhh…” I curl around him, pressing his cheek against my neck.
His arms wrap my shoulders, clinging.
I slow my hips, giving him a break from the rocking, even as my inner muscles grip rhythmically, pulling him through another shaking climax.
I hold him like that for as long as I can stand, letting the tension and heat keep draining from his body.
My edge draws slowly closer, until I teeter on it with every catch in his breath, every low whimper.
“Fuck, Mylo…” I force a deep breath past visceral shudders. “I’m going to cum now. And you’re going to come down with me, alright?”
“Please,” he whimpers. “I can’t stop, I can’t?—”
“Fuck, Mylo!” My hips jerk forward as his plaintive words drive me over the edge. Hard pulses start at my core and radiate outwards in waves of aching relief.
Mylo cries out, head tipping back at the vice-like squeeze. I can’t help but grind again, redoubling my pleasure, carrying one orgasm into another as release crashes through me.
He cums as long as I do, and as my breathing gradually slows, so does his. My aftershocks fade, and his cock softens as his body follows my lead, both of us captive to instinct.
I carefully roll over and pull Mylo onto my chest, groaning as his gentle swell pulls out of me.
The puddle of wetness soaking the bed and slowly draining from me is a problem for later. At least I don’t have to worry about pregnancy; female alphas rarely conceive naturally.
Mylo nuzzles into my chest, resting his cheek on my breast and relaxing against me. His gentle weight soothes me, assuring my alpha instincts that all is right in the world. My arms wrap his shoulders, pressing him tighter.
This moment won’t last long.
Lucky for me, I’m pretty good at living in the moment.
I tuck my nose into Mylo’s hair and breathe deep those precious florals that have bloomed only for me.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
MYLO
I’m vaguelyaware of Christine shifting underneath me, and I’m too tired to fight the urge to cling to her.
