Page 101 of Unhinged
And I swear to God?—
If she does that again, I’m gonna come in my fucking jeans like some desperate teenage alpha.
She rolls her hips again, and I swear I forget how to breathe. Her slick soaks through my jeans. Every move she makes drags against my cock like sheknowsI’m seconds from losing it.
She leans forward and I realize—fuck, she’s at the perfect height. Her tits are right in my face. Full. Bouncing with every shift of her hips. I don’t even think. I lean in and catch a nipple in my mouth, sucking it deep and rough. Her skin tastes like heat and sweat and something sweet—like her.
She gasps, loud. Her body twitches. I wrap my tongue around her and drag it slow before I bite, just enough to make her whine.
But it turns into a moan.
“More,” she breathes, barely there.
Yeah. Fuck yeah.
I shift just enough in the chair to turn my head, dragging my mouth across her chest. I take the other breast, biting at the soft swell first, kissing and mouthing every inch I can get at. I leave marks—I want them there. I want her to see them after. Want her to remember.
She’s panting now. Still grinding. Still dripping.
And I’m losing my fucking mind.
Then she stands up, backing away from me with a shit-eating grin on her face.
Dangerous. Fucking stunning.
“Omega…” I warn, already wrecked.
She doesn’t say anything. Just hooks her fingers in the sides of her thong and slides it down her legs real slow. Her legs are long, strong, and when she kicks that little scrap of fabric away, she’s standing there in nothing but those stupid white ankle socks.
And it takes every ounce of control I have over my alpha to not snap these cuffs and take her like I want to.
Her pussy’s soaked. Slick dripping down her thighs. Glinting under the shitty basement light like it’s calling my name. If this chair had arms, I’d have her stand on them and sit right on my face. Swear to God I’d never come up for air.
But this chair sucks.
Still, I’ll take what I can get.
She walks back to me all hips, not even a hint of nerves left. Just confidence. Pure omega instinct. She looks like a sexy little psycho who might kill me or fuck me into a coma. Honestly, I’m good with either.
She leans down and pops the button on my jeans. No hesitation. Like I’m just hers to unwrap. I lift my hips the best I can with my wrists cuffed and my ankles tied. She gets my jeansand boxers low enough and my cock springs out, already hard, already leaking.
She raises her brows a little. “What do we have here?”
Then she wraps her fingers around my shaft. Her thumb brushes over both my piercings—one through the slit, one underneath—and fuck, it’s like a bolt of lightning straight through me.
“Shit,” I hiss, barely able to hold still.
She grins like she’s proud of herself. Then drops to her knees in front of me. I’ve never seen anything hotter. She strokes me slow, eyes locked on my cock like it’s a puzzle she’s gonna figure out.
Then she licks me.
Slow.
From the base to the tip, tongue dragging the whole way, and I can’t even breathe. She swirls her tongue over the head, right where my piercings are, and my vision actually blurs.
“You taste sweet but tart,” she says against me. “Like candy. The kind I wanna eat every day.”
“Fuck,” I groan, dropping my head back against the chair. “You can suck my cock every day, baby. Just say the word.”
