“Oh my god…” I groaned, making sex noises, but I just couldn’t stop. It was an explosion of spices, herbs, meat, umami, whatever makes something delicious because, damn.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, barely able to stop from craning my neck and opening my mouth to be fed, just like a baby bird.
“Bolognese,” he replied, saying it as though it were some kind of victory.
“No way. No fucking way is that spag bloody bol. That’s… That’s…” He stared at me expectantly, but his eyes slid to my lips pretty quickly, that small smile faltering until I continued. “You’re a freaking amazing cook.”
“That’s why I got sent next,” he answered, grabbing my humble ten-dollar special butcher’s knife and using it to chop parsley into a fine green powder. “You need pampering, and I’m good at that. I also know how to shut the fuck up, unlike my brothers.” He paused, staring at me then with those warm dark eyes, yet somehow, it was a friendly, easy thing. There was intensity there, but he was holding it at bay, for me.
Fucking alphas, I thought. He didn’t really fit the stereotype of what an alpha was in most betas’ minds, but in some ways, he was much more an alpha than they could understand. He took control, of my house, my kitchen, me, in a gentle but firm way, and he provided me what I needed, because my stomach rumbled. The Thai food before was amazing, but the lack of breakfast meant it didn’t hold me for that long.
In response, he grabbed a tea towel and a wooden chopping board, retrieving hand sliced sourdough drenched in garlic butter from the oven, the savoury scents assaulting me the minute he pulled the garlic bread out. I started to get grabby hands when he placed the bread on the board and slotted it into the space between us, but he snagged a piece first and then offered it to me.
Big strong fingers, nails neatly cut short, held bread that lured me closer with its aroma, like you see in cartoons. When I leant forward, this felt insanely intimate, especially as I now knew what feeding me signified to alphas. As I stared up at him, not willing to move any further, he just smiled.
“They said you’d want to analyse this, work out what it all means, but you’ve gotta experience something first before you can understand it. Take a bite, Riley.”
Somehow, I was Eve in the Garden of Eden and Blake was an unlikely snake, but I felt no guilt as I surged forward, biting into the garlic bread. He watched me chew, listening to my weird little groans of pleasure, as the bread-butter-garlic ratios were perfect, with exactly the right degree of crunch. He fed me another bite, then another, watching everything I took from him with complete and utter fascination, and when I was done? A thumb reached out, wiping away a small dab of butter before he licked his finger clean.
What the fuck…?
He snorted, then pushed the bread board towards me, grabbing himself a piece and chewing it as he continued to add to the sauce, then turning the heat down so it could simmer.
“Ask,” he said, settling against my kitchen bench, bringing his head down to my level.
“What?”
“There’s a million questions in that head of yours, Riley. There always was, so ask.”
“What…is this?”
Apparently, we were back to this again. He grabbed my hand in answer, my skin beginning to tingle at first contact, before he pushed my sleeve up, revealing the softness of the inside of my wrist. My heart was already starting to race, a soft feeling of pleasure pulsing through me, even before his lips landed on my skin.
“Fuck…” I hissed, the pulsing growing tighter and more intense, building and building until…
He pulled away, throwing his head back and letting out a gusty sigh in response, his eyes fluttering closed for a second.
“That?” His voice was kind of raspy, like he’d just woken up or come or something. “That was everything I fucking needed. It’s what you need too.” He raised my hand and Gomez Addams’ed my fucking forearm, and now I understood Morticia’s smug smile.
I’d had people go down on me for a lot longer and with a lot more gusto, and they hadn’t got half the response Blake got from one simple little caress. He stood there now, my hand cradled in his, a knowing smile on his face that said he knew exactly how I felt.
Because he feels it too, I thought intensely.
In the spirit of science, I jerked free of his hold, jumped off my stool, and walked around, Blake backing up until his butt pressed against the sink. My eyes ran up and down a body that completely dwarfed mine, but his body language, his eyes, were wary. I reached out, my hand hovering in the air before I dared to make contact. He watched my every move, a small grunt escaping him when my palm came to rest on his chest.
Somehow, it was reassuring to feel him sucking in breaths, his heart rate just as accelerated as mine, but it was about to get faster. I could’ve done a visual check, because a guy like him? There was never going to be any way he could mask his reaction to me. Instead, I placed my hand over his groin, hearing a low, stuttering moan from him as I did, finding him big, hard, and thick inside his jeans.
I was scooped up in response, then turned around, my butt perched on my kitchen bench, my thighs spread wide when he surged in. Blake’s hands cupped my jawline, his eyes staring into mine as he moved closer.
“You want to know how I’m responding? What you do to me?” His voice was kind of harsh now, his brows creasing as he stared into mine. “Well, that” —he shoved his hips forward, grinding his cock into my now dripping seam— “is just one part of it. Don’t get shit twisted, Riley. I’m hard for you because I’ve always been hard for you, but that’s not the whole picture.”
He watched me as he slid my hand through the open neck of his button-up shirt, moving my palm across his chest until it came to lie over his heart.
“This will tell you a lot more, and so will this.”
He nudged my lips with his at first, testing me, making sure I was cool with things before brushing them more firmly across mine, which parted in response. A sound, a tiny little grunt of satisfaction, of need, of desire, gave me a hint of what was to come, but not the entire picture. He sucked at my bottom lip, only letting it go reluctantly because his tongue wanted to sweep in, collecting mine and sliding against it. I didn’t know if I’d ever had such a slow, sensual kiss, one that seemed to go on and on at a completely unhurried pace, even as my fingernails started to dig into his shoulders. I just wanted more, a whole other hunger rising, but he pulled away, grinning when I tried to reconnect our lips. Instead, I was put back down, another drink poured for me as he uncapped his beer and clinked my glass now held between limp fingers.
“You want to study us?” he said. “Well, go right ahead, but there’s a reason why no one has before. What goes on between a wolf shifter and his mate, it defies definition. It’s instincts that pulse deep down inside you.” His hand landed on my stomach and slid down. “Ones that are hard to quantify but impossible not to feel. I just want you to feel me, Riley. Feel me within you, like I’ve always felt you.”