Page 38 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

The silence that follows my question is deafening, and the look in his eyes answers for him. A lump forms in my throat, but I need to hear him say it. “Would you?”

“Yes. Yes, dammit. Is that what you want to hear? Because it doesn’t matter. You were drunk, and I wasn’t going to make that choice for you. I won’t ever make that choice for you.”

My stomach clenches, and his words settle in, sinking deep. The anger leaves me all at once, and suddenly, all I can think about is the way his lips felt on mine. The way his hands gripped my waist. The way his voice broke when he spoke my name.

For a moment, neither of us moves. We just stare at each other, caught in this impasse, both of us stubbornly refusing to bend.

I’m not sure who moves first, but suddenly, I’m climbing over the desk and into his lap, and his arms are around me, pulling me closer. He kisses me hard, and his tongue slides against mine as his hands tangle in my hair.

This is reckless. It’s stupid. But it feels too good, and I can’t stop myself from leaning into him.

The first time was a mistake, a drunken impulse. This… this is a choice.

His fingers dig into my hips, and the pain sends a bolt of heat straight to my core. I grind against him, and the sound that rumbles in his chest only makes me want more. His hands slip under the hem of my shirt, and his fingers skim across my bare skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Every nerve in my body is screaming, begging for him to touch me, taste me, claim me. And in this moment, with his hands roaming my body and his tongue exploring my mouth, I would give him anything. Everything.

My head is spinning, and my heart is pounding, and all I can think is more, more, more.

His fingers move lower, tugging at the waistband of my pants, and the anticipation nearly breaks me. He stands, shifting my weight onto the desk as he kisses me harder, deeper. My legs wrap around his waist, and I’m pulling him closer, desperate to feel his weight against me.

He groans, his breath hot on my neck, and his hips roll into mine. I gasp, and my head falls back as his lips explore the column of my throat. His stubble scrapes my skin, and his teeth graze my collarbone, and the sensation is so overwhelming, so intoxicating, that I can’t think about anything else.

“Gray,” I breathe, unable to keep the need out of my voice.

His hand grips my thigh, and his touch is searing as he slips his fingers beneath the fabric. I shudder as his fingers work at the button on my pants, and a fresh wave of heat blooms in my core. He makes quick work of the zipper, and he yanks the fabric down. His lips find mine again, and I’m kissing him back, clinging to him like a lifeline.

His growl echoes through the office, and his hands move lower, sliding down the curve of my ass. I can’t seem to catch my breath, and the scent of him—of musk and earth and wolf—is intoxicating.

I can feel him straining against the confines of his pants, and the knowledge that he wants me, that he’s as desperate for me as I am for him, sends another thrill through my veins.

When he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, I don’t protest. When he pulls them down, baring me to him, I don’t even think twice. And when his hand slides between my thighs, brushing against the most sensitive part of me, I don’t hesitate to let him in.

My legs part on their own accord, and his fingers move lower, tracing the curve of my entrance. A strangled moan escapes my throat, and I grip his shoulders, anchoring myself.

“Gray,” I breathe, arching into his touch. “Please.”

He doesn’t need any further encouragement. He slips a finger inside, and I cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation. His lips capture mine again, swallowing the sounds, and his tongue slides against mine.

The heat in my core is unbearable, and I writhe against him, desperate for more. He adds another finger, and his thumb finds the spot where I need him most, circling the bundle of nerves in a maddening rhythm. My legs are shaking, mybreathing is ragged, and every nerve in my body is alight with desire.

“Gray,” I gasp, and my nails dig into his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He picks up the pace, pumping his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The pressure is building, and my whole body is wound tight, waiting, aching, for the release.

I can’t form words anymore. I’m moaning incoherently, lost in the pleasure, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.

And then, just when I think I can’t take it anymore, the wave crashes over me, and my orgasm rips through my body. I cry out, and my muscles tense, and every nerve in my body pulses. The world fades away, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sweet oblivion of release.

Gray holds me as the aftershocks ripple through me, his arms strong and steady around me. I sag against him, spent and blissful. His lips brush a tender kiss to my temple before he reaches down to undo his own pants.

On instinct, I scoot back, and when he looks back up at me, he must see the hesitation in my eyes because he stops, his expression softening.

“Jaslyn…”

“It’s not you,” I manage, my voice coming out strained and weak. “I just… I’ve never done this before.”

His eyes go wide as saucers, and in that instant, I regret admitting it. Because all I want is for him to keep touching me, but now he’s frozen, looking at me like he’s been hit by a truck.

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