Page 73 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
“Fuck yes,” he growls and then he’s walking us towards the bed, sucking up and down my throat until I’m gasping for air and everything between my legs is pulsing and dancing with need.
As he drops me down on the mattress, a thought flickers through my brain. Can we actually make this work? We’re so different in size. He’s so much bigger than me.
But then he’s shrugging off his shirt and I mentally apologize to all those fans on the fansite for landing my hands on the thing they want the most. Hunter Larsson’s pecs.
I peel off my own sweater and shirt, thanking the gods I wore one of the bras Hunter bought me and not my old comfy one I’d been planning on.
He hisses through his teeth.
“Stumbling into that lingerie shop was the best fuck up I’ve ever made. We’re going back there.” He grips the waist of my pants. “Please tell me you’re wearing those itty bitty panties that match.”
“You’d better check,” I tell him, lifting my hips and letting him whip off my pants and my shoes with them.
“Fuuuuccckkk,” he groans. “You look like an underwear model, Isabella.”
I twerk an eyebrow at him. I’m going to take it as a compliment.
I reach forward to scrabble at the fly of his jeans, but he pushes me back down and his face is between my legs in the next instant.
“Smells so good, and look how fucking wet and messy you are, creaming all over these pretty panties of yours.”
I think I cream myself even harder when he says that.
“Hunter,” I mutter, half pleading, half I don’t know what.
He’s palming my ass, kissing me through the panties, his warm breath heating everything between my legs.
I grab a fistful of his hair and yank. He doesn’t move, simply growls.
“I’m not done here yet, Omega.”
He slides the wet gusset of my panties to one side and his tongue trails through my folds, achingly slow, tasting and experiencing every part of me as he does.
I moan, sinking into the mattress, my fingers loosening in his hair. Instead, I grip the sheets as he does it again, groaning with obvious pleasure as he does.
“You really like eating pussy,” I murmur, my clit quivering against the tip of his tongue as he plays with it.
“No, Cupcake, I really love eatingyourpussy.” He sucks my clit right up into his mouth as he says those words, and I come so hard, I slick right over his face. He hums with satisfaction and that has a second orgasm chasing right on the heels of the first.
When he raises his head, slick shines in his beard and over his mouth and he looks so filthy, it’s obscene.
“I’m living my own personal porn fantasy, right now,” I mutter.
“How’s that?” he asks, planting a trail of kisses up my body.
“Coming all over your face,” I confess.
“Later you can sit on my face and do it again, Cupcake. But there are other things I have planned for you first.”
Releasing my bra, he glides his tongue up the curve of my right breast, pausing to pinch my nipple between his teeth as he squeezes the left in his large powerful hands.
“You are still wearing pants!” I point out, trying to wriggle my hands down to his crotch.
He nips at my nipple, licking my areola like it’s an ice cream, before rolling off me and onto his back. Then he’s lifting his hips and whipping off his pants and his boxers. His cock hovers above his stomach. Stiff and magnificent and mouthwatering.
I’m crawling towards him before he has a chance to pin me down again. My hot hands wrap around his girth. His breath stutters in his throat and his cock jerks in my grip. He’s hard and soft and warm all at once.
There’s that niggle in the back of my mind once again. Can we actually make this work? I want him inside me so badly. But can he actually fit? And even if he can, is it going to hurt like hell?
