Page 61 of Broken Heat
I rested against him as I felt his knot move and heard him cry out over and over, spilling almost constantly inside me.
Every time he filled me up, he would take me afterward to the shower and clean me out. He said it wasn’t because it was dirty, or anything like that, but because he wanted to fill me up again and again. He didn’t want to stop.
It was amazing. His hands on me, his tongue, his cock, his body wrapped around mine. I didn’t know where one began and the other ended.
We slept for several hours in the night, him holding me tightly against his chest. I thought I’d be too hot and uncomfortable to fall asleep that way, but I slept like baby.
I woke to him petting me gently on my ass. “So soft,” I heard him whisper. “So beautiful.”
“Fuck me,” I said.
He startled. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
“I am now.”
I thought he would want me to get into the breeding position. Instead, he rolled me gently onto my side facing away from him, put his hand between my cheeks and steered his cock inside.
I was slick again, ready. He slid right in and rocked me, both his arms around me hugging me to his chest.
It wasn’t like before, hard and fast, which I loved. But it was easy, sleepy and slow. And I loved it just as much, squeezing my muscles to show him how much.
He came with a groan and a whispered, “Sweet baby, come for me.” His face was in my hair, his hand on my cock.
As he stroked, I shot into his palm. He spread my seed all over my shaft and kept stroking me as we locked together once more.
* * *
I couldn’t get enoughof him.
Throughout the next day, we fucked nearly non-stop. We stopped for snacks and hydration and quickie showers, then went back to bed with him inside me.
“Are you sore?”
He asked me several times in a low and worried tone.
“A little. But ask me if I care.”
He brought healing oils to the bed and treated me with them. He made sure I was always clean and he licked me often on what he called “your sweet bleached pucker.” He also called it my second mouth. And my honey hole. I laughed at that last one right in his face and he told me I’d hurt his feelings. He said he loved my honey hole and he should not be judged for it.
My alpha had a sense of humor, too!
At the end of the second day, when Mykel decided we needed a proper dinner, I realized how much time had passed.
“Where’s my phone?”
“What?” Mykel wore his apron again, his ass hanging out in back.
“Senta. He has to know I’m missing. I’m in trouble. Deep trouble.”
Mykel gave me the warmest smile. As if his job security and my healing and the owner of Omega Island being pissed weren’t serious, anxiety-inducing events.
I ran to the living room to the table by the patio windows. There it was. My phone. Right where I’d left it. The dark screen shone up at me. Maybe it had lost its charge.
I picked it up and turned it on. But no angry messages greeted me.
I looked up to see Mykel standing in the living room, watching me.
“I was supposed to have a new surrogate,” I said. “A text would come to notify me. It should have come early this morning.”
