Chapter 19: Titus’s POV

“How?”

How?

Her question ricochets in my head. 

How?

It takes everything in me to casually cock my head to the side and ask with mock confusion, because fuck, I want to hear her say it, “How what?” 

“How did you fuck your fist? Will you show me?”

Rut sparks along my skin, hot and kinetic. I want to do so much more than just touch her, more than just sit here, more than slowly burn alive in this chair. I look to the side as I swallow the flames.

It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to torture her the way she’s tortured me–a desire that used to haunt my every day–but now, I feel it again. The urge to claw at her sanity, to make her just a little as crazy as me.

So, I make her an offer, “A trade for a trade.”

She reaches for her the ties of her bikini and it's agony. Exquisite, thrilling agony. Watching her agree to my terms, watching her obey without any ounce of command, any threat of force.

Is this how Bishop and Ecker feel all the time? Is this how I’m supposed to feel? Grateful, honored and (so fucking hard). 

The shape of her bare breasts press against her shirt and my mouth waters at the peak of her pebbled/tight/pert nipple. Her bikini top discarded on the floor.

I reach for the hem of my shirt, almost forgetting the trade I promised her. She doesn’t want me to strip my clothes. She wants me to strip bare my (secret) thoughts and desires. But I’m holding on by a thread, I can’t help it. I lift the hem while still giving her what we agreed upon.

“I tried to fight it at first. I was burning up. Hurting.” It’s hard to say more than that, my throat constricting at the vulnerability. But I see recognition on her face. She knows the kind of pain I’m talking about. 

Once my shirt has joined her bikini on the floor, she stands. I can’t breathe as she gently slides her shorts down and kicks them off. She sits on the bed and crosses her legs. My nostrils flare as a plume of her sweet scent hits me. 

I hadn’t realized I was already reaching for my jeans until the smell of her arousal makes my chest vibrate and my hands fist the denim. 

“Uncross your legs.”

She does it instantly, without hesitation or spite and my alpha nature purrs. Her eyes are hooded and beginning to glow. I want to reward her (adjective) (obedience). Lifting my hips, I tug my pants down my thighs.

The bulge of my cock is lewd/crude but that doesn’t stop me from grabbing it, rubbing my palm back and forth languidly. Her mouth pops open the slightest bit as she watches me stroke myself, her arousal growing thicker in the air. 

“I was this close to hanging up, but then you looked right into the camera while taking both their cocks, and I fucking snapped,” I rasp through the rut making every word coarser and rough.

I watch pink blush blooms across her chest as it rises and falls on increasingly heavy breaths. It’s tantalizing the way she can’t look away from my hand idly toying with the waistband of my briefs. I don’t push them down, instead meeting her gaze with a silent (order/demnad). 

I wonder how long I can keep her on the edge like this without tipping/falling over myself/first.

My chest hammers as she shimmies out of her bottoms against the headboard, then deflates when she pulls the hem of her shirt between her legs. Agony. 

“That’s not fair,” I groan.

A smirk flits across her lips. “When have we ever played fair, Titus?”

I can’t remember the last time she said my name not as a taunt or laced with vitriol. It freezes me to the spot. Once again, it takes everything in me to play it cool, to not crawl to the foot of the bed on my hands and knees and beg her to say it again and again.

I try to hide the tremor of my fingers as I push down my briefs and free my leaking cock.

“Fuck…” she says mindlessly as she takes me in, as if it just slipped out, and I laugh.

I can tell she’s on the verge of going into full on heat and I’m desperate to get her there. “Now, get rid of that fucking top,” I growl.

My lungs seize as she lifts the shirt over her head, my gaze caressing the slope of her breast as I imagine sucking the rosie point between my lips. Unconsciously, my thumb circles the wet tip of my cock. 

When she balls the tank top between her thighs, I tsk. “A trade for a trade, Omega.”

Her lip quirks. “It’s not my fault you have no more clothes left to barter.”

“Then ask me a question instead.” There’s no way I’m letting this end so quickly.

“Who was the girl downstairs?” she blurts out. Smugly, I half smile. Jealousy is quickly becoming my favorite emotion on her.

“Majestic. I used to work security here, and she and I used to…from time to time.” I leave the rest to her imagination.

“Did you sleep with her last time you were here?”

“That’s more than one question,” I reply, thinking we’re still playing a coy game but her face falls and her eyes narrow. I hate what I just implied and don’t hesitate to clarify. “No, I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

My stomach knots at her response. Oh. 

Is that a good oh, a bad oh? A relieved oh or a sad oh?

I find myself desperate to give her more information so that she isn’t left speculating about something that didn’t even happen. “Wasn’t for lack of trying on her part though.”

Her eyes drop to where I’m still slowly stroking my cock. Her attention makes heat pour through my limbs. Then, to my surprise, she tosses her shirt and spreads her knees, putting her perfect, glistening cunt on display.

“Did she try to get with you before or after you ‘snapped?’,” she asks in a husky whisper.

My voice sounds strangled and raw. “Before.”

I squeeze my cock as she teasingly drags her fingers through her pussy, my jaw clenching painfully. Not being able to touch her, I resort to bucking my hips up when a breathy moan tumbles from her lips, thrusting into the circle of my hand.

But it’s still not enough. Not when I can smell her slick, see it pearling on her lips, because of me. Because of me and I’m not even touching her. 

This realization emboldens me. I feel less like a deer in the headlights trying to play it cool and more like the (predator) that I am. I rise, stepping out of my jeans, and slowly prowl to the foot of the bed. My fist continues its movements up and down my length the entire time, even when I place a knee on the mattress, feeling it sink under my weight.

Her hand mirrors mine, playing with herself  as we bore into each others’ glowing eyes. The rut fully sinks into my veins and my other hand fists the covers. I want nothing more than to climb onto this bed and ravage her but I know I can’t. Even rut-addled, my brain knows nothing but pain will come from that. Excruciating pain. 

“What would you have done if she came in after?”

Her question gives me pause because I don’t think she’s actually asking about Majestic–or at least she doesn’t want to know about Majestic. Instead, it feels like she’s trying to fuck me through this imaginary scenario when she can’t in real life.

I don’t hesitate to play along.

“I would have bent her over this bed, shoved her face into the mattress, and kicked her feet apart.” My gaze cuts to her feet and she widens them compliantly.

I climb onto the bed, my body struggling to regulate as I take in her pussy, her knees spread wide and inviting. Her fingers dance over her clit and my stomach aches to be the one making her breath hitch with every light pass. 

“And then . . . ?”

I don’t need to think before I answer. “I’d make her present and use her for what she’s good for.”

“Which is?” Her voice is breathless and deep in heat.

I scoot forward on my knees. “Riding her hard while pretending she’s you.”

I canvas her body with my eyes realizing what a bullshit, cop-out lie that is.

“Or at least, I would have tried, but I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. There’s no amount of pretending that could ever be good enough. No one could ever be the same as you.” A weight lifts from my chest as I shed this confession/shed these words.

“Me?” she asks and I nod.

I swallow deeply. Even with that lifted burden, I’m still weighed down by the brutal truth. “No matter how hard I fought it, you were all I wanted.”

It stings saying it out loud. I want to crawl in on myself realizing the weight was the walls I’d painstakingly constructed around my heart. 

Regret begins to flare in my hollow chest, but then she says, “I still remember how you felt inside me.” And slips two fingers into her pussy.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting her words echo in my head, making sure I heard them correctly. Then I move closer and she widens her legs even more for me. I kneel between her legs, as close as I possibly dare.

I stroke my cock where it juts out directly above her cunt. I forgot how fucking good we look together. My jaw slackens at the sight and my breaths become ragged.

“This cunt always knew who it belonged to. Just look how wet you are imagining your hand is my cock.”

“Fuck, Alpha,” she mewls and it’s like the sharp crack of a whip. 

“Careful calling me that or I won’t care how bad the pain is and fuck you raw,” I growl threateningly.

Her fingers continue to fuck in and out of her pussy as she promises, “Okay.”

“Good. Now, tell me, what do you remember?” It’s a struggle to breathe let alone speak. I sound like a man dying of thirst and hunger. Which I suppose I am.

“I remember how it felt to take every inch . . . the way you stretched my pussy . . . pounded into me like you owned me.” Her eyes crawl over every inch of my skin, her brows furrowed as she works herself higher. 

She pants and moans, “God, you fucked me so . . . so permanently. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” I groan and then . . . the words just spill out of me . . .

 “I know I hurt you, but I made you feel good too, didn’t I? If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be soaking your thighs right now, would you? I’ll teach you to ride me just how I like, and I’ll make you scream, scream so loud my brother has to gag you with his cock—god, you’re so fucking gorgeous with tears streaming down your face and all your holes filled.”

My pleasure peaks, my brow beaded with sweat, my abs and balls aching for release. I sputter, “Fuck, I’m gonna come . . .” I gnash my teeth trying to hold out just a little longer. “Fuck—fuck—if I can’t come in you, can I come on you, all over this perfect pussy? Paint you with my cum like you’re really. Fucking. Mine?”

“Please, please, please, Alpha.” Her needy whines and the scent of her approaching orgasm pushes me violently and head first over the edge.

“F-Fuck–Mine,” I growl and come all over her stomach and perfect fucking pussy.

“Oh god—” she cries, her hips bucking. Her heels dig into the mattress and she throws her head into the pillow. Sitting back, I watch spent yet awestruck as her orgasm ripples through her.

A sated, blissful smile is faint on her face as her eyes gently flutter open as if waking from an incredible dream. But she seems just as happy about her reality.

I’m still trying to catch my breath and make sense of what the fuck just happened when she drags her finger through my cum painting her and sucks them into her mouth with a rumbly little  moan.

“God . . .” My exhale is choppy and strained. “You’re going to be the death of me, Omega.”

She wipes the corner of her mouth with a smirk. “Good thing you’re hard to kill.”

I fucking hope so.