Page 101 of Reckless Consequences

Her scent spikes, hybrid designation responding to alpha proximity with sweet notes that make my mouth water. Beta with omega undertones, creating a combination that triggers protective and possessive instincts in equal measure.

I capture her mouth again, the kiss deeper this time, claiming rather than asking. She meets me with equal intensity, her body arching into mine with demanding pressure. Heat builds between us, the connection carrying sensations that make it impossible to tell where my pleasure ends and hers begins.

My hands find the hem of her tank top, pushing it up to expose pale skin. She raises her arms, allowing me to pull it over her head and toss it aside. The sight of her in just a simple black bra, claiming marks visible at her throat and shoulders, sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through me.

A heat starts at the base of my spine and radiates outward, accompanied by an instinctive tightening of my grip on her.

“Like what you see, Commander?” she asks, voice breathless despite the teasing words.

“Always.” I trace the edge of a claiming mark, watching her pupils dilate at the contact. “Still amazes me how these deepened after your change. Like your body knew exactly what it wanted.”

“Yet here we are.” She smiles, hands working at the buttons of my shirt with practiced efficiency. “Breaking all the rules.”

I help her push the shirt from my shoulders, her hands immediately exploring the newly exposed skin with appreciation that pulses through our bond. Her touch leaves fire in its wake, familiar yet somehow new each time.

“These security consoles weren’t designed for this particular application,” I observe as she shifts against the hard edge.

Her laugh vibrates against my lips as I kiss my way down her throat. “Improvisation, remember? Besides, I distinctly recall someone taking me over a desk during our first week at the mansion. This is practically nostalgic.”

The memory sends fresh heat surging through me—Cayenne bent over Finn’s desk, hands braced against tactical plans, my name on her lips as I claimed her for the first time. How far we’ve come since those early days of uncertainty and crisis, yet how the core of what draws us together remains unchanged.

I lift her easily, enjoying the way her legs tighten around my waist as I carry her to the room’s single completed furnishing—a reinforced tactical desk designed for emergency operations. I set her on its edge, hands moving to the fastenings of her jeans.

“Better?” I ask, helping her shimmy out of the denim.

“Much.” She reaches for my belt, fingers deftly working the buckle. “Though we might need to reinforce this desk too, if past performance is any indication.”

I growl softly, the sound drawing a shiver from her as she pushes my jeans down my hips. “You questioning my control, beta?”

Her smile turns wicked, hand wrapping around me through the thin fabric of my boxers. “Always. It’s when you lose it that things get interesting.”

Challenge accepted. I hook my fingers in the waistband of her simple cotton underwear and drag them down her legs with deliberate slowness, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Her scent intensifies as cool air hits newly exposed skin, omega undertones growing stronger with her arousal.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, hands sliding up her thighs, thumbs tracing the sensitive skin of her inner legs.

She leans back on her elbows, watching me through half-lidded eyes. “You going to just look, Commander? Or are you planning to do something about it?”

In answer, I drop to my knees before her, hands gripping her thighs to pull her to the edge of the desk. Her sharp intake of breath is all the encouragement I need as I lean forward, mouth finding her with precise intent.

The taste of her floods my senses—sweet and sharp and uniquely Cayenne. Her hands fist in my hair, not directing but connecting, holding on as I explore her with deliberate thoroughness.

I know her body now, know exactly how to touch her to draw those breathless sounds from her throat, know the rhythm that makes her thighs tremble against my shoulders.

“Ryker,” she gasps, back arching as I focus my attention on the spot that makes her see stars. “God, yes, right there.”

I double down on my efforts, driven by her responses and the pleasure flooding through me from our bond. Her hybrid designation allows me to feel echoes of her sensations, creating a feedback loop that heightens everything with each pass of my tongue.

She comes apart with a cry that echoes off the unfinished walls, body tensing and then shuddering as the pleasure crashes through her. I work her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks pulse beneath my hands.

When I finally pull back, her face is flushed, eyes glassy with satisfaction. But I know my Cayenne—one release is just the beginning.

“Get up here,” she demands, voice husky with lingering pleasure. “I need you. Now.”

Who am I to deny such a direct request? I stand, shedding my remaining clothing before stepping between her spread thighs. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer until I’m positioned at her entrance.

“Sure you’re ready for round two already?” I tease, knowing full well she is.

Her answer is to roll her hips forward, taking just the tip of me inside her with a challenging smile. “What do you think?”

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