Page 4 of My Defiant Mate
"Screw your job." I growl, exposing the pale column of his throat, the delicate line of his collarbone. "Screw your scholarship. Screw everything that isn't this."
His scent hits me harder as I expose his skin, like a punch to the gut. It's no longer just clean linen; it's something deeper, richer. It's the smell of an omega recognizing his alpha, and it's the most intoxicating thing I've ever experienced. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling until my lungs burn. It's not enough. I need more. I need all of him.
"Jionni," he says, and my name in his mouth is both a plea and a surrender. "We can't—"
"We are," I correct him, dragging my teeth across his pulse point. I feel him shudder violently. "We already are."
My hands are everywhere, desperate to touch, to claim. I push the torn shirt off his shoulders, baring more of that perfect, pale skin. He's lean but solid, surprisingly strong under my fingers. Not fragile. Not breakable.
Mine to mark.
I bite down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. I don't hold back. I bite hard enough that he cries out, a sharp, pained sound that breaks into a moan, his body arching against mine. I taste the coppery tang of blood on my tongue, and his scent changes again, deepening.
"Oh god," he breathes, his head falling back against the door with a thud. "What are you doing to me?"
"Claiming you," I say simply, licking at the wound I just made. My hand slides down his chest, over the flat plane of his stomach, to the straining waistband of his khakis. "Making you mine."
"This is insane," he protests weakly, even as his hips buck forward into my touch. "We just met. We don't even know each other."
I laugh against his skin~. "My body knows you," I tell him, palming the hard length of his cock. He's thick and long, and the knowledge sends another jolt of possessive heat through me. "Your body knows me."
He whimpers.
"Tell me to stop," I challenge him, my fingers working at his belt, his button, his zipper. "Tell me you don't want this. Tell me this isn't what you were made for."
He doesn't. He can't. His eyes are glazed, pupils blown wide. His lips are parted, wet and swollen from my kisses. He looks completely wrecked already, and I've barely even touched him.
"I need—" he starts, then breaks off with a sharp gasp as my hand slips inside his boxers, finally wrapping around his hot length. He's so hard, so ready for me. "Jionni, please—"
"Please what?" I demand, stroking him slowly, deliberately, feeling the silky heat of him in my palm. "Tell me what you need, Toby. Use your words."
"You," he admits. "I need you."
That's it. That's the only permission I need.
I spin him around, pressing his chest against the door. He doesn't resist, just braces his hands against the wood, his breath coming in short, desperate pants. I press myself against his back, my cock hard and insistent against the curve of his ass. The friction is maddening.
"I'm going to take you," I tell him. "I'm going to fuck you against this door until you can't remember any of your stupid rules. I'm going to claim you. Right here. Right now."
"Yes," he breathes. "Please."
My fingers feel like clumsy blocks of wood as I fight with the button on my jeans, the zipper a harsh rasp in the charged silence. I shove them down just far enough to free my aching cock. I hook my thumbs in the waistband of his khakis and boxers, dragging them down over the perfect, pale curve of his ass. They catch on his thighs, shackling him. The sight of his bare skin, of the shadowed cleft between his cheeks, makes a possessive growl rumble in my chest.
"Spread your legs," I command, my voice pure alpha. He obeys instantly, widening his stance as much as the fabric will allow, his whole body trembling.
I should go slow. I should be gentle. He's an omega, and even though he's not fragile, he deserves care. But that thought is a flickering candle in a storm of instinct. The need to claim, to mark, to fill him and make him mine forever is all-consuming.
I spit into my palm, slicking myself down. It's not enough, but it'll have to do. I lean closer, and I can see the glistening omega slick already beading between his cheeks. His body is betraying every rule he's ever lived by. It's ready for me.
I nudge his legs wider with my knee and position the head of my cock at his tight entrance. He flinches, his whole body going rigid. "Say it. Say you're mine."
He turns his head, looking at me over his shoulder. His glasses are askew, his hair a mess from my hands. He's never looked more beautiful.
"I'm yours," he says, and the words shatter the last of my control.
I push forward, not with a single thrust, but with a hard, determined press. The resistance is incredible. He's so tight. Hecries out, a sharp, choked sound, his knuckles going white where he's gripping the door.
"Jionni—" he gasps, his body tensing around me.
