Page 38 of His Problem Alpha
Devon nods, but his eyes are fixed on the test in his hand. “Right. Good. We’re not… ready for that.”
“No,” I agree, my voice flat. “We’re not.”
We sit in silence, the negative test between us like a verdict.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice small. “For freaking you out.”
“Don’t.” I take his hand, my fingers wrapping around his. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He looks up at me, his eyes searching mine. “You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, looking away again. “For thinking I was… for making you worry.”
“Devon.” I cup his face with my free hand, turning him back to me. His skin is soft under my calloused palm. “We’re in this together. Whatever ‘this’ is.”
His eyes soften, something vulnerable and raw flickering in their depths. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I lean in, pressing my forehead to his. His scent fills my lungs—citrus and sunshine, with that new, richer note I still can’t identify. It calls to something deep inside me, something primal and protective that wants to keep him safe forever.
I kiss him, a gentle press of lips that quickly deepens into something more urgent. He makes a small, broken sound against my mouth, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders.
“Alex,” he breathes, the word a plea.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, laying him back on the bed, following him down. “Let me take care of you.”
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine as I undress him slowly, deliberately. Each inch of skin I reveal is a gift, a privilege. I take my time, memorizing him with my hands and my mouth. The sharp line of his collarbone. The sensitive spot just below his ribs that makes him squirm. The soft, pale skin of his inner thighs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell him, and I mean it. He is—all lean lines and graceful curves, his body a perfect complement to mine.
He flushes, a dark blush spreading down his neck to his chest. “Stop talking and touch me.”
I smile against his skin. Even now, he can’t help but be demanding. I love that about him.
“So impatient,” I tease, but I give him what he wants, trailing my mouth down the hard plane of his stomach.
When I take his cock in my mouth, he gasps, his back arching off the bed. I go slow, savoring him, using my tongue and lips to drive him to the edge and back again. He tastes of salt and need and something like grief. His hands fist in my hair, not pulling, just holding on like I’m his anchor in a storm.
“Alex,” he moans, his voice breaking. “Please. I need—”
“I know what you need.” I move up his body, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss. “I’ll give you everything.”
I prepare him carefully, my fingers slick with lube, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. But he’s open and eager, his body welcoming me, his eyes locked on mine with a trust that humbles me to my core.
When I finally push inside him, we both gasp. The tight heat of him is a revelation every time, a homecoming I didn’t know I was seeking. We’re not fucking—not like before. This is different. Every touch feels like a promise. Every kiss like a confession neither of us can say out loud. I move slowly, deliberately, each thrust deep and measured.
“So good,” I murmur against his throat, my voice a low growl. “So perfect for me. My omega.”
He whimpers, the sound vulnerable and raw. His hands clutch at my back, his nails digging in just enough to sting. “Yours,” he agrees, the word a surrender that sends a bolt of possessive heat straight through me.
We move together, finding a rhythm that builds slowly, inexorably, toward release.
“Look at me,” I command softly when I feel him getting close. His eyes flutter open, dark and dazed. “Stay with me.”
He nods, his gaze never leaving mine as I reach between us to stroke his dick in time with my thrusts. The intimacy is almost unbearable—seeing every flicker of pleasure cross his face, feeling every tremor of his body wrapped around my cock.
“Alex,” he gasps, his voice breaking. “I’m going to—"
