Page 106 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
The first touch of his mouth against me steals the air from my lungs. His tongue drags over me in one long, devastating stroke, ending in a flick that has my hips jerking.
“Stay still,” he growls against me, the vibration shooting through my core. “You’ll take what I give you.”
I can’t stay still. My hands fly to his hair, clutching desperately as he licks me again—slowly, thoroughly, tasting me like he has all the time in the world. When I try to close my legs, his hands push them wide, the strength in his hold making it clear I’m not going anywhere.
“You taste even better than you smell,” he says between strokes, his voice low and rough. “And I love how wet you are for me.”
Heat floods my face, but his words only make the ache inside me worse. His mouth seals over me, sucking hard, his tongue working me in relentless, perfect circles. Every time I gasp orcry out, his pace changes—faster till he senses I’m close, then slowing until I’m whimpering and straining toward him.
The pressure builds, hot and intense, and that strange, restless stirring deep inside me rises with it—wild, demanding, impossible to ignore.
“Tell me you want this,” he demands, lifting his head just enough for me to see his mouth wet with me.
“Yes—God, yes—” I weep, the words tumbling out in a broken rush, mindless and desperate. I’ll say anything if it means he won’t stop.
His lips curl in satisfaction before he lowers his head again. “Then, come for me, Astra.”
The order is my breaking point. My back arches, a ragged cry ripping from my throat as the tension snaps and pleasure crashes through me in blinding waves. I can’t stop moving—my hips buck against his mouth, my hands fisting in his hair, incoherent sounds spilling from my lips between gasps and sobs of his name. I’m shaking, babbling nonsense I don’t even hear, every word torn from me without thought, without control.
He doesn’t stop—licking me through every shudder, every aftershock—until I’m trembling so hard, I can’t hold myself up, winded and spent beneath him.
When he finally pulls back, he crawls up over me, caging me in with his arms, his voice a low promise against my ear. “You’re mine.”
I try to turn my head, to look anywhere but at him, but his fingers grip my jaw just firmly enough to hold me still.
“No hiding from me,” he says, his tone deep and unyielding. “I want you to remember exactly who made you fall apart like that.” His thumb drags slowly across my lower lip, and the way his gaze follows the movement makes my pulse kick all over again. “I want you to think about it every time you close your eyes. Every time you breathe.”
I’m still trembling, my body loose and heavy, but his weight over me, the heat of him, keeps me trapped in place.
“You’ll get used to it,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine. “Being under me. Coming for me. Needing me.”
His hand leaves my cheek only to trail lower, skimming over my throat, between my breasts, and down my stomach until it’s resting heavily between my thighs again. I’m still sensitive, the slightest brush of his fingers making my breath hitch, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s nowhere near done.
“Lucian—” It’s meant to be a protest, but it comes out shaky, almost pleading.
“Shh.” His mouth claims mine again, slowly this time, his tongue sliding against mine like he owns the rights to every part of me. “You’re wet enough for me.”
He shifts his weight, one hand bracing beside my head while the other frees himself from his pants. The blunt heat of him nudges against my entrance, and my stomach flips with equal parts fear and raw, dizzying need.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says breathily, his gaze locking me in place. “Last chance.”
I can’t. My lips part, but all that comes out is a shuddering breath.
His eyes close, his lips curling in that wicked smile before he pushes forward—slowly, deliberately—giving me no choice but to take him. The stretch stings slightly, more of an ache than anything else, but my fingers claw at his shoulders as I gasp.
“Breathe,” he orders, his voice steady and firm, guiding me through it. “You can take it. Relax for me.”
I try, but my body is tense, trembling beneath him. He stops halfway in, giving me a moment to adjust, his hand massaging my hip in a way that feels soothing despite the iron control in his grip.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his tone softening just a fraction. “Let me in, Astra.”
I do—my body yielding without my permission—and he slides deeper, inch by inch, until he’s completely seated inside me. The fullness is overwhelming, almost too much, and yet I can’t help the way my legs tighten around his waist, holding him there.
He doesn’t move at first, his gaze locked on my face like he’s memorizing every flicker of sensation. Then, slowly, he starts…with long, measured strokes that pull a sound from me I’ve never made before.
The burn fades, replaced by something hotter, heavier. Each thrust presses deeper, rubbing places inside me that make my toes curl, building pressure. My hands grip his shoulders, then slide down his back, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing anchoring me to this world.
“That’s it,” he growls, his pace quickening. “Hold on to me. Take me.”
