Page 77 of Sold to the wrong Alpha
He had never felt this way before.
Even as a child, when his mother was alive and sang him French lullabies at bedtime, it wasn’t like this. Not even during the few enjoyable moments of his adolescence, when he still believed his father would change and the Valois family would regain some of the dignity it once had. Not even during his best days at the gym, when his body obeyed him and his fists landed, and he could pretend for a couple of hours that being an omega didn’t mean a thing.
This was different. This was not having to pretend.
The question buzzed around his head like a persistent mosquito: was he doing the right thing? He’d asked it so many times in the last few days that the words had lost their edge. And now, with Brody’s warmth pressed against his back and the scent enveloping his senses like a blanket woven just for him, the question dissolved before it could fully form. It couldn’t be wrong. S+
something that made him feel as if his bones were finally resting where they belonged. It couldn’t be wrong to breathe without his chest aching.
Ren turned.
Brody slept with his mouth ajar and his hair tousled on the pillow, black and smooth as spilled ink. His eyelashes cast tiny shadows on his cheekbones. He had a red mark on his left shoulder—Ren’s teeth, Ren’s bite—and scratches running down his chest like a map of what they’d done the night before.
Ren ran a finger along his collarbone. The skin was soft there, unexpectedly soft for a man of his size. Brody didn’t move. Ren moved his hand up to his jaw, traced the line of the bone with his thumb, and leaned in.
He kissed him on the lips. Slowly. With his mouth closed, barely a press, a brush.
Brody woke up with a start. His gray eyes opened, disoriented for half a second, and then locked onto Ren’s with a clarity that didn’t belong to someone who’d just woken up. The red rim of his irises glowed in the morning light.
“Good morning.”
Ren’s voice came out hoarser than he’d expected.
Brody didn’t answer with words. His hands moved before his mouth did: one wrapped around the back of Ren’s neck, the other grabbed his hip, and in one fluid motion he pulled him on top of him. Ren landed on Brody’s chest with his knees on either side of his waist and his palms flat against his pecs. The alpha’s erection pressed against the inside of his thigh, hard, hot, insistent.
“Good morning.”
Brody said it, looking up at him with narrowed eyes and that wolfish half-smile that transformed his face into something equally dangerous and magnetic. He grabbed his hips with both hands and lifted him just enough to align them.
Ren let himself fall.
The penetration was slow, deep, and Ren threw his head back and bit his lip hard because the sound he wanted to let out would have put the whole mansion on alert. Brody dug his fingers into his hips and pushed upward, and the slowness lasted exactly two more seconds.
Then it was chaos.
Ren rode him, his thighs burning, his hands on Brody’s chest, his hair falling over his eyes, blond and tousled, drenched in sweat at the temples. Brody thrust from below with a force that made the bed creak against the wall. Rhythmic. Brutal. Without delicacy or pretension. Ren leaned forward and bit his lowerlip, and Brody growled; an animal, guttural sound that vibrated against his ribs, and twisted his hips with his hands to change the angle, and Ren saw white lights behind his eyelids.
He came with his forehead pressed against Brody’s, his body shaking, his muscles contracting around him. Brody followed three thrusts later with a muffled growl against his neck, and Ren felt the heat fill him from within and the pressure of the knot expanding, and he stayed there, sitting on top of him, panting, too weak to move.
Brody brushed his hair away from his face.
Ren looked at him. The gray eyes met his gaze with something that wasn’t just sated desire, but something deeper, more still, that squeezed something inside his chest.
He said nothing. There was no need.
They showered together. Brody’s bathroom was spacious, with dark tiles and a rain shower that fell from the ceiling like a warm waterfall. Brody lathered his back with slow, circular motions that weren’t sexual but weren’t innocent either. Ren pressed his forehead against the tiles, closed his eyes, and let the alpha’s hands trace his shoulders, his sides, the curve of his waist. When Brody kissed the nape of his neck, Ren arched his spine without thinking, and Brody’s laughter rumbled against his skin.
“Insatiable.”
“Shut up.”
Brody bit his earlobe, and Ren gave him a half-hearted elbow to the ribs. They rinsed off. They dried off. Ren put on a pair of jeans and one of Brody’s t-shirts that hung off one shoulder, leaving his collarbone exposed. Brody looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
But the alpha’s jaw was tense in a way Ren was recognizing as restraint. Ren raised an eyebrow, grabbed the hem of the t-shirt with two fingers, pulled it to one side, exposing even more skin, and turned toward the door.
