Page 49 of Her Broken Alpha
"But I need to punish you. Should I stop now? Leave you wanting? Spank you? You broke one of my rules, baby. Don't think I forgot."
A high-pitched sound came out of her, long and wailing.
"Oh, sweetheart. I want you to sing for me. Yes. I will make you sing for me."
"What rule? What rule?" she demanded.
"Rule three. And if you can remember what that is right now, then you are thinking too much and I might need to punish you even more. Maybe I'm doing something wrong."
Naya gasped when he inserted a third finger and began to pump hard into her. Gorgeous fluid drenched his hand and he lapped it up, always starved for more.
He felt around, searching for the angle she liked best, until he found her most sensitive spot then purposely avoided it, taking her again to the razor edge of desperate need.
She sang for him, a wordless howl devolving into pleas and promises. Darre pumped a brutal thrust against her with his hand. His fingers were shorter than his cock, so there was less danger of pounding too deep, and he wanted her to feel this in the morning when she woke and tried to walk out of the nest.
Holding her with one arm while she writhed on the fingers claiming and owning her, he braced her on the exquisite edge of pleasure and pain.
"My rules,” he grunted in time with his thrusting, mouth speaking right above her swollen, juicy pussy.
"Number one: Stay in the room." He licked her clit. "Number two: Don't take anything."
He licked her bud again and gave it a sucking little kiss, three fingers still working in an unforgiving rhythm that made her sputter with every thrust. He counted each one with a grunt.
Barely resisting the temptation to lick her golden sugar-biscuit essence off his drenched fingers, Darre bathed his fingers in her cum, getting them ready.
He loved that she got so fucking wet for him. He inhaled her scent and found her sweet, tiny rose of a pucker.
"Rule. Number. Three." He inserted one soaked finger into the tight, dry space.
Caught off-guard, she hadn't tightened up, but she kicked out. "No. Don't. Monster. You can't."
"I can. I really can. Didn't you pay attention to your omega health studies? Don't you know that your genetics are unique among women? You are biologically different from all others. So special. Made for fucking. Born for it."
"But I don't want this. Don't want it." He could smell her tears, inhibition rolling off his proper little girl in waves.
"Your intended boy wouldn't do this to you, would he?" Darre challenged. He used the width of his shoulders, one arm holding her still, to subdue her. She was such a tiny little breeder that just his weight pressing forward immobilized her.
"He wouldn't claim you here,” he continued. “Own you here. He'd listen to what you wanted and not give you what you both needed."
She hissed through her teeth, trying to roll up over him and push him away. "Don't want it."
Darre nipped at her tits when they brushed against his face.
"Breeders have four times as many nerve endings as other breed. Did you know that, Naya? You feel things other women could only dream of. Pain. Pleasure. Everything in between."
"Monster." She pounded her arms against the bed.
He continued to pump his finger, tormenting her with the burning penetration.
Kissing her belly, he said, "Settle, treasure. You are going to give this to me. You will take your punishment and my dick. Here. Even here, all the way up inside you. And you will like it."
Her body trembled. Her sphincter fluttered. Pushing in, he gave her two fingers.
She sang for him, a long, drawn-out protest.
"You said you know who I am. You said you accept the Broken Prince. But do you know who you are? What you are capable of? I don't think you do." He pumped his fingers in once, twice, three times, and then took them out and spat on them.
"Breathe, my breeder girl. Breathe. In, out. In, out."
