Page 32 of Undone
Anthony’s face was largely impassive, but his eyes were intent on him, glinting with an emotion Michael couldn’t read. He still stank of his rut—and the omega. “Sure. Lead the way.”
Trying to breathe as shallowly as possible, Michael turned away and strode toward the alcove hidden behind a large plant in the corner of the ballroom. The foliage provided enough cover that they could talk without being under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes.
“What are you even doing here?” he said once they reached it. “You shouldn’t be going out so soon after the full moon. You reek.”
Anthony’s lips twisted. He took a step closer, his thick scent all Michael could breathe. It was fucking unbearable.
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” he said mildly.
“You know it isn’t,” he bit out. “Why are you trying to steal the omega I’m courting?”
Anthony gave him an amused little smile. “You didn’t even know his name.”
Gods, he wanted to punch him so badly he was shaking with it.
“If you squeeze that poor glass any harder, it’ll break,” Anthony said, taking Michael’s drink away from him and bringing it to his own lips. He took a sip, looking Michael in the eyes. His muscular throat worked as he swallowed.
Michael felt hot and heavy between his legs.
“I knew his name,” Michael said belatedly. “I’ve danced with him twice.” That much he did know.
Anthony raised his eyebrows. “That’s practically a declaration of intent.”
Ugh, he couldn’t stand that mocking undertone, his fingers itching to punch him, to hurt him.
“I do,” he said tersely. “I do have serious intentions. I’m going to mate him.”
Anthony’s shoulders tensed up. Suddenly serious, he set the drink aside and took a step forward. “Are you?” he said, his breath brushing Michael’s face.
His heart was pounding so fast he felt almost dizzy. “Step away,” Michael bit out. “We’re in public.” The view might have been obstructed by the plant, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be seen if someone cared enough to look.
“So what?” Anthony said with an infuriating little smirk. “There’s nothing wrong with two alphas leaning in close to be heard over the loud music, is there?”
Michael wet his lips with his tongue.
Anthony’s gaze fell to his mouth and darkened. “They don’t know,” he murmured, his voice very low. “They have no idea I had my cock in your mouth a few days ago—and that you liked it.”
Michael’s face was aflame. “Shut up.”
Anthony’s intent, observant eyes swept over him, lingering on his crotch, even though it was covered by Michael’s jacket. “Tell me,” he said, leaning against the wall with one shoulder and turning his back to the ballroom, shielding Michaelcompletely from view. “If I put my hand on your cock now, will it be hard?”
Michael glared. “Shut up,” he repeated, but his voice came out weak and breathless.
Anthony smiled, something sharp and predatory in his expression. Slowly, he unbuttoned the bottom button on Michael’s suit jacket and slipped his hand under it.
Michael didn’t stop him for some reason. He bit his lip hard to keep himself from moaning as the other alpha’s large hand cupped his erection. “Don’t,” he managed, but his voice was unconvincing even to his own ears. “What are you doing?”
Anthony hummed, stroking his cock idly. “You have a nice cock,” he said, his tone very casual. “A nice alpha cock. Good for fucking omegas.” There was a sharp, intense glint in Anthony’s eyes as he met Michael’s gaze and stroked, and stroked, andstroked. “But that’s not what you want, is it? It’s useless.”
A moan slipped out of Michael’s mouth, his eyes becoming unfocused.
“Tell me,” Anthony said quietly against his ear, massaging his cock. “Have you used that dildo of yours today?”
The obscenity of the question coupled with the completely inappropriate public setting—and the completely inappropriate public groping—nearly made Michael come in his pants.
“You have,” Anthony stated, his tone strange. There was something both pleased and displeased about it. His teeth scraped Michael’s earlobe as he whispered hoarsely, “Did you imagine it was me fucking you?”
“Fuck off,” Michael managed, but his hips were jerking forward into Anthony’s hand, seeking friction, needing more. “I’m not like that. I’m going to court—Giles.”
