Page 47 of Choosing Her Alpha
"Yes."
He moved her braid over her shoulder, standing close enough that she imagined she could feel the buttons on his shirt brush her back as he breathed.
There was a tug at her tunic, then a swish of fabric falling away as he cut it in half. One by one, he cut the sleeves. Linen fell to the concrete floor.
She hadn't been naked in front of him with this new body. Did he like it? Would she please him?
He wrapped one of his hands around her right arm, his massive paw rough and warm as it slid over the fine bones and slender muscles of her forearm, up to her elbow, then coming to rest on her shoulder.
She moaned. A flood filled her underwear. One did not become accustomed to this kind of arousal. Desire overruled her pride, intentions, and emotions. It got her in its grip and owned her.
Kane was the instigator.
Kane was a hundred times worse than that poor guard.
"You do not understand who you are." His voice came from over her head, a furious, gorgeous snarl. "You do not understand how you look, how you smell, how you call to the animal nature of a beast overcome by instinct instead of intellect. You don't fucking know your own value.
"And just months after your first heat, at your most vulnerable, when you smell sweet and available like the answer to every desire a man has ever had, you leave the safety I have provided for you."
The back of her white support top went taut against her chest when he pulled at the back of it. She didn't like to wear it, but her new breasts swelled and hurt when she went without the uncomfortable, itchy thing. Her nipples would become oversensitive little points.
But because it was Kane hovering, Kane tugging at the fabric, lifting her breasts, making her aware of herself, it felt good.
Sounds of want escaped her. His knife was a breath of air she couldn't see, and then the fabric was on the floor. More agonized, wanting little noises came out of her throat. She couldn’t help herself.
"Breed train for control," Kane said. "But it is impossible to know if one can overcome the ultimate temptation. We fire rubber bullets at them, throw knives at them, bomb them, make them fight each other, and stress test for every combat situation we can, but it is fucking impossible to train for the smell of fresh omega cunt."
His hand snaked around her belly, open wide from the base of her breast line to her pelvis. He drew her close to him and she melted, slick leaking out of her as ice turned to heat and she felt him all along her back.
His big hands. His big body. His face went to her neck, mouth touching her.
A jagged, hungry sob found its way out of Sasha's mouth. In her head she was asking, begging for more.
I need more. Touch me.
He let go, his presence shifting, lowering. The waistband of her pants tightened as he pulled and sliced until she was in her basic wear. She felt his breath right at the base of her spine, over the curve of her bottom.
Her skin was changing with maturation, but the scars of her past remained. He would be at eye level with a few of the worst ones. Sasha could barely register the idea. The king's heir was on his knees behind her, his breath a tingling pleasure that made her muscles clench and release, awakening every feminine nerve with pure need.
Wet released. She was beyond embarrassment when she felt it dripping down her thighs. He was going to make it spatter and splash like rain on the floor. She knew it.
Kane caressed the dip just above the crack of her curved bottom with a knuckle, and Sasha cried out, a tender touch before he hooked his finger in her underwear. He drew the fabric up, pulled it uncomfortably between the separation of her cheeks, and manipulated it between the lips of her sex until it was a soaked torture device he could pull back and forth.
He used it to tease her swollen clit, brushing it against her hole, tormenting the tight pucker of her anus. Sasha whimpered between clenched teeth as he tormented her sensitive flesh with the gentlest of sensations.
Back and forth. His breathing increased, hers matching his.
Back and forth—the perfect amount of pressure to torment her.
"Alpha," she whispered. Something was happening to her. Her slick increased. She heard the splatter drip to the concrete floor. Oh, how she needed, but wouldn't ask.
The word was like a signal. The knife moved; her panties joined the rest of her clothes on the floor.
But then he got up and went to the door.
He was leaving her again.
"No, please!" It was the first time she had weakened. He could do anything to her, but she needed his presence like she needed air.
