Page 8 of Pin My Alpha
I flip us. It’s not gentle, but he goes easily, a surprised sound escaping him as his back hits the mattress. I settle my weight over him, one knee between his thighs. My body covers his. The heat of his bare skin seeps into mine.
“You feel like you’re about to vibrate apart,” I say, my mouth against the side of his jaw. “That’s all.”
“Yeah.” His eyes find mine, dark and unguarded. “But I don’t want you to stop.”
I kiss him then, slow and deep, until his hands stop pushing at my shoulders and start clinging to them. I drag my mouth from his, down the hard line of his jaw. The skin over his throat is flushed, and when I press an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot over his scent gland, his whole body gives a violent jerk.
My teeth ache. I know what my instincts want. I force myself lower.
His collarbone is sharp under my tongue. Shay arches into me, a frustrated sound catching in his throat.
“Are you stalling?” he breathes.
“I’m taking my time.”
“Don’t you dare go gentle on me, Byrne.”
I lift my head. His face is dark with blood, his chest rising and falling too quickly under my hand. He means it as a threat, but it sounds like a plea. Don’t make this matter. Don’t make me soft.
I kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m not going gentle. I’m making sure you feel it.”
“I already feel it.”
I slide my hand down between us, palming him through the rough denim of his jeans. Shay bucks hard, a sharp sound torn from his throat. I keep my hand there, rubbing him slow, feeling the long, thick shape of him jump against my palm.
“Fuck,” he gasps.
“Yeah.” I unfasten his jeans, my knuckles brushing his stomach. The zipper rasps down, and the scent of him hits me like a physical blow—rain and chocolate and the sharp, sweet smell of his slick. His underwear is soaked through. I push the jeans and boxers down his thighs in one rough pull, until there’s nothing between us but air.
He’s bare and wet and ready, and the sight of him—legs spreading for me without a second thought—makes my cock jerk. I drag my palm through the slick coating the inside of his thigh, feeling how warm and open he already is.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I intend. “Wet and hard and already open for me.”
“Don’t.”
I circle his entrance with one slick finger, just teasing. “You’re the one under me, Shay. The one soaking my sheets before I’m even inside you.”
His breath hitches, and before he can decide whether to shove me away or pull me closer, I take both his wrists in one of mine and pin them to the mattress above his head.
He freezes.
Every muscle in his body locks. His breath catches in his lungs, and he just stares at me, his eyes gone wide and dark. The fight, the noise, all of it just vanishes.
I go still with him. “Shay. You’re okay.”
His throat works on a swallow. He pulls against my grip, not hard, just a test. A slow roll of his hips follows, a question.
“Don’t you fucking stop,” he whispers, the words rough.
I line myself up. The broad head of my cock presses against him, slick and hot, and the sound he makes is almost wounded, his legs wrapping around my hips to pull me closer.
“Now,” he breathes. “Declan. Now.”
I push in.
The wet, tight heat of him swallows me inch by inch, and I have to drop my forehead to his shoulder just to keep from losing it. He’s so slick I slide in with one long, steady thrust, his body yielding around me like it was made for this. A low groan tears out of him, his spine arching off the mattress as he takes me to the hilt.
“Yes,” he hisses. “Fuck. Yes.”
