“I can,” I promise. “I can take it.”
I whimper in protest when he pulls away from me—pushing up on his hands to look down at me with glazed eyes. I notice they’re a dark, stormy blue now that is nothing like their usual clear color, and Noah’s lips are parted as shallow breath escapes between them.
“I don’t—” His jaw clenches. “I don’t feel like myself.” His eyes rake down the front of me with something that only can be described as hunger. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”
Something inside begins to whine, a steady chant of no no no in the back of my head as panic seeps into me at the idea of losing whatever he’s about to give me. Suddenly, the idea of Noah not touching me feels almost painful.
“Don’t stop,” I manage, tugging at his shirt with too much force until I hear the last remaining buttons tear away. “Please?”
There’s a rumble in his chest when my hand finds the front of his jeans, palming him through the denim. “Mackenzie,” he warns, “I’m having a hard time being gentle with you. I don’t—” He groans as I squeeze him through his pants. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The way you smell right now. It’s driving me insane.”
I lean up on my elbows, turning up my face until I can flick my tongue against his throat, where I know he’s sensitive, where his scent is strong. “Then be rough,” I purr. “You can be rough with me.” The word is on my tongue, one I’ve never used before but that somehow feels exactly right at this moment. I reach to pop open the button on his jeans, pulling at the denim until I can reach inside to feel the shape of him through the cotton beneath. “I want you, Alpha.”
“Fuck.”
His mouth is on my skin—lips and teeth tasting every inch he can reach as his hands tug at the hem of my dress. I’m not sure it will survive the night, with the way he’s wrenching it up my body, but I can’t find it in me to care when I feel the heat of his wide palms on my bare skin. I lift my arms so he can tear the dress off, and he tosses it somewhere on the floor before sitting up and wrenching off his own shirt to add it to the pile.
Every inch of Noah seems to have been carved or manufactured, my eyes greedily drinking in every ridge and line of him as the urge to touch and taste threatens to consume me. I notice him working on his zipper next, and I curl my body to bat his hands away so I can do it myself. Even through his underwear the shape of him is daunting—the fabric stretched and straining as the thick length of him presses against it. My hands still at his thighs, fingers curled into the waistband of his jeans as I’m momentarily struck with just how much he is.
He’s always been larger than life, even when I barely knew him, but looking at him like this—with his impossibly wide shoulders and his too-thick arms and his cock that looks like it might be a health hazard—now I’m finding it hard to believe that he was able to hide his alpha status for so long. Everything about him screams it.
I tug his jeans a little farther down his thighs. “Did you know we learned alpha anatomy in med school?”
“Mm.” His lips press together as he watches me shuck down his pants. “I did.”
I let my nails scrape lightly up his thick thighs when his jeans become trapped at his knees, which are pressed against the mattress, allowing me to feel him shiver. “Did you learn about me?”
“I—” His lashes flutter as my fingers tease at the waistband of his boxer briefs. “I—we did.”
“So, we both know how this works. Technically.”
“Mackenzie,” he huffs as I peel the fabric away, the flushed head of his cock slipping out and glistening at the tip. “I can smell you. Jesus, Mackenzie, you’re so wet.”
His voice is further away now, my attention solely on the heat of him in my hand as I pull him free from his underwear. There’s a little curiosity and a lot of want when I see what all the fuss is about—the velvety skin of his cock sliding under my hand as I stroke down the length of him to meet the slightly thicker skin at the base. It’s only a hint, only a slight premonition of what it could be, I think, but even like this, seeing his knot sets off a fresh trickling of slick between my legs as if my body has a mind of its own. Like it knows what Noah can give me.
And I want it, I’m realizing more than anything else.
I want everything.
I meet his eyes when I lean in, peeking up at him through my lashes when I let the tip of my tongue flick over the head of his cock, and the answering rush of air that escapes him, like he can barely stand to keep still—it’s enough to make anyone feel a little hedonistic. I swirl my tongue there, the taste of him somehow better than the all-encompassing scent of him that has somehow grown sweeter, more irresistible, and all I can think about as he looks at me like he can’t decide what to do with me for the want of needing all of me at once is: This was definitely worth all the fuss.
My teasing is short-lived, his thick fingers grazing my jaw to tangle in my hair so that he can tilt my head back and pull me up into his kiss as he comes crashing down to meet me. I can’t for the life of me say how he gets my bra off—I actually think it might be in two pieces now, not that I’m complaining—but by the time I’m naked beneath him, I realize that somehow he is nothing but heat and hard muscle against me, not a stitch left between us as he settles over my body.
His hips rut against me like he can’t help it, his teeth and tongue still tasting at my mouth and lower at my throat and back again. I feel his breath in my ear when his big body forces my legs to spread wider, his voice low and gravelly when his cock slides against the core of me.
“Tell me again,” he urges, one hand at my jaw as the other pins my hip to the bed, to restrain me or him, I can’t say. “Tell me you want this.”
“Please,” I hear myself crying, my voice nothing like it’s ever been. I’m practically begging. Have I ever begged before? Why don’t I mind? “I want this. So can you just—ah.”
Even with the steady stream of slick I might be embarrassed about at any other time—it’s a stretch. I close my eyes so that I can focus on the delicious friction of it, so I can feel every inch of him as he slowly presses inside me. I gasp when I feel the slightly thicker base slip through, leaving all of him rooted deep as we both struggle to catch our breath just from this.
Even with the bad dates and the busy year and the model trains—I am no stranger to sex. I’m a modern woman who is perfectly fine seeking out what her body craves with whoever she chooses, but this—I don’t think it’s ever been like this. It’s not just the pleasure of it, because there is a lot of that, but it’s also the strange sensation of Noah fitting. In more ways than just this. It’s the odd feeling of being filled for maybe the first time.
And if that’s all from hormones, then they are some strong fucking hormones.