Her Broken Alpha - Isoellen Page 0,34

neck. Legs around my waist."

Being held by him was an experience. Sensations and feelings poured over her like the water as she found her mark and bit him again.

He cursed.

She giggled.

He adjusted her. The unquenched, hard heat of him breached her entrance unexpectedly.

Naya gasped.

"Just a little. You make me burn. By the rod, will it ever stop? Come now, baby. Just a little fuck now. Gotta be inside you."

His head was in the crook of her neck, kissing and licking in between bursts of dirty talk. He bounced her up and down, stretching her, filling her, owning her.

"So tight. How can you always be so tight? Could do this all day and night."

When they walked back to the room, he was still inside her. He was so strong; everything he did was effortless.

Setting her on the bed, he put a little distance between their bodies so he could get between them and stimulate that demanding bundle of nerves at the top of her slit.

"Look at me in you. Connected to you. Can't believe it. They should shoot me for violating this perfect little pussy. Come on me. Come on my cock, baby," he growled.

Helpless against the onslaught of pleasure, Naya cried out and came.

"Good girl. Such a good girl."

Pulling out of her, his unsatisfied cock waved and bounced as he moved away. It was impossible for her to take her eyes off it. She wanted to grab it.

He went to the door, leaning out and returning with a basket. "Some clothes and shit here, treasure. You need to get dressed. We need to talk, and I gotta get some business taken care of. There will be more food too. I need you to eat.

"That's alright, I'm not really hungry."

"That's not what I said. You need to eat, so you will eat."

Naya huffed, but didn't argue.

The basket had drone clothes in it: loose pants for a man, too-long knit leggings for a woman; two unisex tunic-style tops long enough to be dresses; and underwear that looked like it might fit, but no support wear for her chest.

At home she had custom made support wear; her chest was too big for her frame and she would hurt without it.

She picked out the underwear, loose pants, and one of the tunics. With her unbound breasts, it would not be a proper fit.

"Monster, may I wear one of your shirts?" Naya asked while struggling with it.

"Everything you do is fuckin' cute and sexy,” he said. He was wearing his own loose pants now, his cock tucked down one leg, but still stubbornly hard so that she could actually see the length of it and was tempted to put her hands on it again.

Bringing her a shirt from his rack, he held it out of reach, taking a moment to pay homage to her chest. His hands lifted, shaped, and plucked at her nipples before he dipped in for a taste.

"Never gonna get out of this room. What trouble you are. I should give these breasts a whipping for this blatant show."

"Wh-What?"

He sucked hard at one breast while brushing his hand over the nipple of the other. "These are gonna fill up nice for my child. They’ll get even bigger, sweeter."

He played just long enough to get her all worked up and ruin the underwear she had on, then helped her get the too-small tunic off and dress herself in his roomier one.

His shirt was too long in the arms, gaped at the neck, and hung on her like a giant sack down to her knees.

"I'm going to need some support wear. I can't go around loose like this."

"I don't have anything like that. I wasn't planning on taking a mate. You can ask for one, but it might take a little time. Not a lot of shops and shit around here for women."

"I can bind them if you have some fabric or a bandage."

"Bind them? Wrap them up and flatten those beauties? No. Don't even think it."

"But—"

Monster snarled. "I said no. Naya."

This was exactly one of the reasons she'd wanted Crispin. He would never think to get in the way of women's business he didn't understand. This male thought nothing of throwing out a subject he didn't understand. What did he know about big breasts, how they hurt, or how cumbersome they felt? He didn't know anything.

She took the comb she found in the basket. Raking it through her wet curls and snarls in sharp, frustrated strokes, she swallowed down her comments about his