Captive Mate - Eliot Grayson Page 0,41

jeans open and pulled them down my legs, where they tangled at my ankles. He didn’t bother getting them the rest of the way off. An instant later, he ducked his head and swallowed my aching cock in one motion.

I had a split-second to be impressed, since my cock wasn’t small, before sheer sensation took over. He used his lips and his tongue and even his teeth — not wolfed out, thank the gods — to bring me to the brink within moments, the suction nearly unbearably intense. My flailing hands landed in his thick wavy hair, grasping onto the strands like a lifeline. It had to hurt, but it only spurred him on. He growled his satisfaction around my cock, the vibrations traveling up into my balls and ending my fight for self-control.

I spilled down his throat, shaking, squeezing my eyes shut and riding the wave of my orgasm like a swimmer caught in a riptide. It pulsed through me, through and through, spiraling along the magical pathways my spell had forged from him to me and echoing in the shared space between us, over and over.

My body ached like I’d been running. I collapsed, coated in sweat and shaking. My fingers trembled in his hair. It probably felt like I was stroking him.

Maybe I was stroking him.

The cool air from the window caught every droplet of moisture on my skin, an icy counterpoint to the burning heat where his hands still pinned my hips.

Slowly, Matthew let my cock slide out of his mouth. I couldn’t look. I didn’t want to see whatever was written on his face. For weeks, while he ‘negotiated’ with Sam Kimball, Matthew had looked at me, his serious blue eyes rarely resting anywhere else if he had the choice. Even before I cast my spell he’d watched me more often than he needed to. Before the spell, I hadn’t been able to interpret those looks.

After the spell, I’d known exactly what was on his mind, because I’d put it there. Desire. Lust. Possession. And I’d responded to it anyway, somewhere deep inside where I tried not to look, because who wouldn’t? How were you supposed to stay totally indifferent to a man like Matthew, an alpha like Matthew, constantly focusing his formidable attention on you?

Especially when Matthew was so easy on the eyes. And so rational, so devoted to his pack.

When he wasn’t being manipulated by a shaman, of course.

But still. Even when I had my spell on him, he tried to do the right thing. And once the spell put me in the category of things Matthew needed to protect, he’d tried to do the right thing by me, too. If I’d been what he hoped I was, what his addled brain was convinced I was so briefly, before it all went to shit, he would’ve protected me from Parker not because it was necessary to keep him and his pack alive, but because he loved me.

Matthew nuzzled my too-sensitive cock and then went lower, licking my balls, pressing kisses to my inner thighs. Why wasn’t he flipping me over and mounting me? I’d told him he could. I even wanted him to, if I was being honest.

That would be honest. A hard, brutal fuck, driving everything else out. Proof that Matthew was the kind of alpha I knew, the kind of alpha he’d shown himself capable of being earlier that day when he ripped Tyler’s guts out.

This was a lie. His tongue, teasing behind my balls and carefully seeking out my hole, was a lie. The huff of his breath on the inner curve of my cheek was a lie. And when he let go of me for a moment to shove my jeans off of my feet and then slide his hands down my thighs and push my knees apart, that was a lie too, because he wasn’t rough, and he wasn’t demanding.

He was gentle and inexorable, like this was something that had to be done. Something we both needed.

I dared to crack my eyes open. His hair was wildly tousled from my hands. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were pure gold now, without a trace of blue. Somehow he was keeping the rest of his shift in check. I wasn’t; I could feel my own teeth lengthening and sharpening.

Matthew bent again and put his face between my legs. I’d only had a guy do this once before, and it hadn’t been very good: perfunctory, and we were both