Page 124 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
“Sometimes I wonder if this is a dream,” I mutter, staring down at her. “How can you be so perfect?”
“Flattery will get you into my pants, alright,” she breathes. “I’m yours.”
That word snaps something in me. I yank the shirt over her head and toss it aside. Her bra is black lace—fuck—and I waste no time pulling the cups down so I can take her nipple into my mouth, sucking on it hard while my fingers tease the other one. She arches under me, helpless, hungry.
I love her like this.
“Touch me,” she begs.
“Where?” I ask, running my hand down her stomach and teasing her waistband.
“You know where,” she hisses.
I grin, devilish. “Say it.”
Her eyes lock with mine, defiant and wide. “Touch my pussy, Erik. Please.”
I growl again, fingers sliding beneath her waistband, then under the lace of her panties, straight to where she’s soaked for me. I groan at the heat, the slickness.
“Fuck, Fiona. You’re already this wet?”
She bites her lip, nodding. “Only for you.”
My fingers slowly find her clit, and she shudders. I kiss her while I play for a while, and then I slip two fingers deep inside. She cries out into my mouth, and I swallow the sound like it’s the first drop of water in a desert.
Her hips buck, and I pin her with my weight, holding her still as I fuck her with my fingers, curling them just right, again and again, until she’s panting and writhing and so close I can feel it in the clench of her muscles.
“Let go,” I whisper against her throat. “I’ve got you. Let me feel you come.”
And she does—back arched, mouth open, legs trembling around my wrist. I don’t stop until she whimpers and grabs at my arm.
Then I pull my fingers from her, licking them clean while I stare into her dazed, blissed-out eyes.
“Tastes perfect,” I murmur. “But I’m not done.”
I strip fast—shirt, pants, everything gone—and she watches me with dark, hooded eyes. When I kneel between her legs, she reaches for me, but I pin her wrists above her head, lowering myself until we’re chest to chest, forehead to forehead.
I push into her slowly, savoring every inch, every gasp, every flutter of her walls around me. She’s tight, hot, perfect. We both groan as I bottom out, buried to the hilt inside the woman who has wrecked me without even trying.
“Fiona,” I choke. “Gods, you feel like heaven.”
She wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in until we’re tangled and shaking. I start to move. Hard, deep thrusts that make the rug burn my knees, but I don’t care. All I care about is her—how she feels, how she sounds, how her nails dig into my back and her legs lock around my waist like she never wants me to stop.
And I won’t. Not until she comes again. Not until I break apart inside her and tell her everything I’ve been holding in.
I’m close. She’s close.
And the only thing I know for sure is that I’m never letting her go.
Afterward, we lie tangled together on the living room rug, her head on my chest, my fingers combing through her hair. The late afternoon sun streams through the windows, painting patterns on our skin.
“I love you,” I murmur against the top of her head.
She stirs against me, pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone. “I love you, too. But I should get cleaned up. Alex will be closing soon, and I promised to help with inventory.”
“Stay,” I request, tightening my arms around her. “Five more minutes.”
She laughs softly. “Five more minutes, and we’ll end up missing dinner, too.”
