Page 7 of The Gift
This time I’m the one smirking. It makes him laugh deep and throaty. The noise vibrating through all the places we’re connected. I pant, stretching high on my toes before his fingers hold me still so he can slam to the hilt again. And again. He fills me completely, stretches me wide, and my body takes it while my mind whispers to me how perfectly he fits.
“Get your ass in my hands, woman,” he rumbles, his voice deep and lazy. He oozes confidence. And he’s as turned on and worked up as I am. His better communication skills are the only thing that separate us. But I’m distracted by the way he feels like he’s made for me, just me. Everything about him is right. And even with the condom separating us, I feel every dip and ridge of his cock, and it’s fucking decadent.
Pushing me up against the wall, his hands grip on my ass cheeks in a wicked show of ownership. He spreads me wide open, leaving me vulnerable before he fucks with a wildness that is intoxicatingly good. I drag his mouth back to mine, my fingers scratch through his hair, leaving it a perfect mess.
He lowers his mouth to my throat and I absolutely gush around his cock. He drops one of my legs back down so he can rub his fingers through my slick while my heart rate races as he nips playfully at my throat. I should probably run, it’s too close to what an alpha would do. My hands move down to check around his cock, to search for a knot, to triple check what I already know. He’s not an alpha, but damn he is close to being one.
“Fuck yes,” he whispers as I drop my hand further, cupping his balls before he grabs my wandering fingers and slams my arm up above my head. “Come for me.” His voice is choppy, his words rush out. “Come,” he barks out. I don’t just come, I gush.
Holding me still, he thrusts himself so deeply inside my body that I feel every electric pulse and jump of his cock as he comes in exactly the same way I do, loud and messily. His mouth is open and wide on my throat, his teeth are poised to strike and I knock my head back against the wall. In the haze of orgasmic nirvana, it feels like the top of my head blows sky high, my pussy keeps squeezing around him. While a primal part of me fights for domination, one part cowers, the other pleads.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he howls against my skin, and I let out the breath I was holding before pulling his mouth up to kiss him again so he doesn’t start biting. All of me is oversensitive, begging for more.
And I’m almost ready for round two. Once the stars clear from my vision, I’ll drop to my knees and deep throat him, sucking his cock hard so he can all but destroy me again and again.
“Bailey! Bailey! Bailey! Calling, Bailey, it’s a wrap. We’re going and so are you. Come on.” I startle in his arms, making him laugh as he keeps nibbling against my lips, ignoring them for a few more minutes. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, pulling back, growling low and deep as it drags through his teeth. I fight to find my feet, ready to pin him to the stairs and ride him until sunrise.
But my wonderfully considerate colleagues start up their drunk chant again.
He ignores them, making me forget my own name by doing this thing with my clit. He rolls it in his fingers, rubbing and tugging it until I moan softly after another small release.
And then he obliterates and destroys all my defences by the way he holds me tightly, the way he looks at me, tends and cares like a god damn Olympic gold medallist. His hand shakes as it moves to my face, and he tips my chin up with an unexpected tenderness that fills a gap where I always knew one existed but never let anything in.
“Woman, you’re incredible,” he murmurs breathlessly as he keeps nipping at me like a man who hasn’t eaten for days. The smile on his face makes his white teeth gleam predatory in the darkness, keeping my monsters at bay so he can take his fill over and over.
My colleagues take up their position at the top of the hallway, singing and chatting. Waiting. And I really don’t care that they know what I’m doing. It’s not the first time.
Reluctantly, he guides my shaking legs back to earth. He won’t let me help him, turning me instead and pushing me forward with his hands on my hips, only to tug me back to him so he can kiss the back of my neck once more. Then he does take his hands off me and lets me go to my waiting colleagues. Their drunk chuckles are interlaced with singing and suggestions for pizza.
With a last lingering look, I leave him. Hopefully in the dark.
Ashton
Reno has been isolating. The door to his room that’s usually wide open and accepting of us has been closed. I’ve barely heard him make a noise, except for the shower which seems to run every few hours religiously, like clockwork. I’m not counting as such, but whenever the shower starts up, it echoes through the house, reminding me of how far he’s drawn away.
We’ve all noticed. His departure from our daily life is concerning. He hasn’t been that person for a long time. But all of a sudden something has taken his focus and lured him away and left in its wake the ghost we’ve worked so hard at him not becoming.
“Leave it,” Henley snaps, effectively stopping me from going to chase Reno down again. Adding insult to injury in case I missed the undercurrent of command in his voice, Henley’s hand reaches out to catch my wrist.
“We don’t have time for this,” I say like a petulant toddler as I twist away from him.
But fuck Henley for sitting on the chair facing away from Reno’s room, like a guardsman. Protecting him almost. Not saving him though, if he were, he’d be in there wanting answers.
Henley stares without saying another word. The simmering anger on his face might be a precursor to more, depending which way I decide to respond. But much like something in him rises to the evident challenge in me, a gathering of sorts occurs in me too. We might not be like animals anymore, but certain situations make it evident we haven’t evolved terribly far genetically from our ancestors.
Power struggles between dominant males isn’t anything new. It’s pure nature, as nature intended. Survival of the fittest, the strongest except for the fucked up genetic malfunction where we are brought to our knees by weakness and need. And then we flame and burn the brightest.
Henley drops his hand, his eyes too. I watch the grit of his jaw as he grinds his teeth. And even though he’s definitely the head of our pack, we’re all close behind him in terms of power, strength, and control. Usually. But this shit with Reno has been hammering against my rationale since he returned.
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling like a four-year-old now. Jamming one hand in my jeans and turning away from him, I rest against one of the huge windows to stare out at the impressive view to our garden. To watch the way life keeps turning, despite the feeling mine is crumbling around me.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I admit in a rough exhale. I swear to god I feel like a broken record, but something is pinching my shoulder blades, making me repeat the same fucking line over and over. It’s the job, it’s Reno’s strange mood, it’s a growing sense that as a pack were about to be tested.
I don’t need to turn around to look at Henley, I hear his weary sigh from across the room.
“Ashton, we all agreed on this one. But we signed up to do whatever we could to help a while ago too.”
See, this is him singing the next line back to me. For fucking days it’s been like choir practice in here, we’re all performing the same song day in, day out. Each day one of us starts, today it happens to be me.
