Page 66 of Nursing the Alpha
Every night, I’d waited in my bed, dressed in lace and pretense, knocked out by sleeping pills, telling myself I was the one with the upper hand. That I was the predator luring him closer.
But I’d woken each morning like this.
Sore.
Bruised.
Empty.
Full.
And alone.
It was never enough.
I clenched the sheets as heat pooled low in my belly.
God, there was something wrong with me.
Because I hadn’t just allowed it.
I’d documented it.
The hidden camera had captured every single encounter in grainy night-vision detail.
The first time I’d watched, I told myself it was evidence. Proof for when I finally decided Seth had gone too far.
But then I watched again.
And again.
And now the image of Seth’s broad back, his muscles flexing as he thrust into me, the sound of his low groans and filthy words spilling against my sleeping skin?—
It was burned into me.
I couldn’t stop.
I didn’t want to.
Every night he came to take, and every morning I played the victim. Pretending to myself that I hadn’t been complicit. Pretending I hadn’t arched into his hands even in my sleep. That my lips hadn’t parted in soft sighs every time he sank into me.
But the footage said otherwise.
It showed my hips shifting. My fingers twitching. My mouth whispering his name in dreams.
God, I was no better than him.
Worse, maybe.
Because I understood now. The need towatch.To see the thing you desired most and couldn’t touch when fully awake. To be outside your own body and watch your fantasies play out unfiltered.
It turned me on more than I cared to admit.
Hell, it turned me on more than anything ever had.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing at the deep ache thrumming between my cheeks. My body was littered with marks, red fingerprints at my hips, bluishbruises on my wrists from where he’d pinned me, shallow bites along my chest where he’d suckled too hard.
Seth.
