Page 30 of The Alpha's Gamble
I whined helplessly, working my hands up to try to get his trousers open so I could taste him, choke on him, moan around his knot…
Declan took a firmer grip on my hair and yanked me up, exposing my throat, drawing a cry of surprise out of me.
“You’re not getting off that easy,” he said grimly, and then smiled, one of the ones that didn’t reach his eyes. “So to speak. You want my knot stuffed in your ass, Blake?”
“Yes,” I gasped, cock throbbing, and gods, I was so close I could’ve come all over the floor if he let me stroke it for just a minute. “Whatever you want. I’ll take whatever you give me. Fuck me with that huge alpha cock, Dec—eep!”
He reached up with his other hand, faster than I could flinch from, and wrapped it around my throat. I stared up at him, wide-eyed with shock, hands flailing, as he tightened his grip with both, tugging my head back with the hand in my hair and increasing the pressure with the one on my throat.
Declan leaned down, eyes flashing. “Stop fucking with me,” he growled, so low the vibrations sent tremors through me. “I don’t know what you’re playing at. But fucking stop it.”
“I’m not fucking with you!” I had been fucking with him. I had to squeeze my eyes shut for a second against a wave of dizziness. I’d totally been fucking with him, hadn’t I? His fingers tightened again, and my dizziness grew. “I’m not playing at anything.”
Because I wasn’t. Not anymore. Not with my ass clenching around nothing, anticipating the girth of him and the unbearable stretch of his knot, and not with my cock leaking and desperate, hanging in empty air begging to be touched. Not with my head pinned and my throat compressed and his black and gold eyes waiting to overwhelm me the moment I opened my own again.
I left one hand on his thigh, anchoring myself as much as I could, and let the other drop, wrapping it around my shaft. Yes, please, gods, let him let me do this…I stroked, and I whimpered, cut off as his fingers clenched convulsively around my neck.
My eyes flew open and met his again. I couldn’t see anything else.
When he squeezed and stroked my throat, I did the same to my cock. My back bowed, the pressure forcing my chin up and nearly cutting off what little oxygen I had—and I spasmed, balls drawn up tight, and came all over my hand. Little explosions of white light filled my vision.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Declan breathed. “Fucking—fuck.”
“So eloquent.” Those two words took the last of my air. I slumped in his grasp, held up only by my hair and my throat, white flashes turning to spinning black spots.
I barely heard the rumble of Declan’s laughter through the ringing in my ears. He let go of my hair and neck, and I started to topple, only to be caught under my arms and hauled to my feet like a sack of especially uncooperative potatoes.
Whatever happened next, it wasn’t going to be my doing. And that was fine by me.
Chapter 10
I’ll Give You Mine If You Give Me Yours
Declan manhandled me…somewhere, and I didn’t care that much either way. The strong arm wrapped around my waist and the other hand holding me up with a firm grip on my ass were enough to keep me from falling over, and that was all that mattered. I let my head lean down onto his shoulder. He smelled like sex and alpha, with a tinge of that casino floor taint that followed you everywhere if you so much as walked through. It didn’t bother me. The combination soothed me, made me feel safe. He smelled like competence and strength.
And then I did fall over, tumbling onto a soft surface that also smelled like Declan.
His bed.
My jeans came off, not without some cursing from Declan as he worked them down, and then his hands paused at my waist. “If you don’t take this ridiculous shirt off yourself, I’m going to rip it off you,” he said. “I’m not spending twenty minutes trying to extract you from it.”
If it’d been any other shirt, I’d have let him. But seriously? Ripthis?
I mustered the energy to flop over onto my back, blinking up at him as I clumsily worked the shirt up and over without bothering to sit up. It got stuck on my biceps. I wriggled around, finally emerging flustered and panting.
Declan had already produced a bottle of lube from somewhere, and he tossed it on the bed next to me, getting to work on his shirt buttons.
“Get yourself ready,” he said. “I want to watch.”
Aside from the showers I’d taken since the last time he fucked me, I’d never had my own fingers in my ass.
And that was what he meant. Lube, fingers, sliding inside. Twisting and stretching and making sure when his cock slid into me, he could go as deep as he wanted, opening me up the rest of the way, spearing me…
“You’re getting hard again,” he commented casually, and tossed his shirt aside.
Yeah, yeah I was. And his broad, naked chest wasn’t helping. Fuck, I’d had good taste ten years ago. An image of Declan flashed into my mind: on his knees, maybe wearing the casino uniform, unfastening my pants and then taking my hips in his iron grip and pinning me against the wall, sucking every inch of my cock.
I moaned and fumbled for the lube, almost dropping it in my hurry to get it opennow. It squirted all over my fingers when I squeezed too hard, and then I actually did drop it when Declan shoved his trousers and boxer briefs down in one go, revealing his cut hips and muscular abdomen and thighs…and that cock, aimed right at me.
