Crossed Fates by Lexi C. Foss

Makayla

Sex. Definitely sex.

Except that hadn’t been one of his choices. Not quite. Tasting, he’d said. To see if I’m as sweet as I smell. Just the thought of his sensual words sent a shiver down my spine.

Because yes. Yes, I wanted that. Right now. With him.

And he’d given me the choice.

It was like he knew me without knowing me. A conundrum I didn’t quite understand, one I chose to ignore now. We’d been sniffing around each other for the last few days, our attraction clearly mutual. Yeah, there was the whole fated-mates thing, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t sleep with him. Hell, if anything, it meant I should fuck him. A lot. Like over and over again until this whole burning sensation between us ebbed.

If that was even possible.

“Makayla,” he murmured, his grip tightening in my hair. “You’re not speaking. Should I infer that to mean you’ve chosen the other option?”

I licked my lips, his mouth a scant inch from mine. “Well, there is at least one thing you should know about me first.” I trailed my fingers up the middle of his black dress shirt. He’d left it open at the collar, allowing a teasing glimpse of flesh to show.

I want to lick him right there,I thought, drawing back to study the dip in his clavicle bone. Then I want to lick a path down his body and trail that light dusting of hair to the prize below.

My stomach clenched with the image in my head, his body a treat I wanted to sample every inch of. “If you’re going to taste me, then I want to taste you, too.” I met his sapphire eyes, his irises illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through his window.

A vibration rumbled beneath my fingers, his wolf responding favorably to my words. “I want to go first.”

My thighs clenched, his growl underlining those five words. It wasn’t a request but a demand. A promise. A sealing of fate.

“Yes.” There wasn’t anything else to say. I could talk all night about myself just to try to avoid this, but why? What was the point? We both wanted each other. We were adults. “Yes,” I repeated.

His lips curled into a feral grin. “Yes what?”

“This.” What the hell did he need? A map? Because if that was the case, we had a problem. I expected experience. I wanted him to take me to the damn moon with his tongue. Right. Fucking. Now.

“Oh, no, Makayla.” His touch slid from my hair, his palm wrapping around my nape. “I want you to say it. Talking or tasting.”

“Well, you seem to be in the mood for talking.” Which was a giant waste of time.

“I’m absolutely not in the mood for talking, sweetheart.” His arm tightened against my lower back, pulling me impossibly closer. “And I think we both know that.” He rocked into me to punctuate his point, and I nearly swallowed my tongue.

Because dear God, yes. Thick. Pulsing. Hot.

I swallowed. “Alaric.” It came out on a whine, my wolf taking over my voice and shredding all sense of dignity within me.

“Say it.”

Damn man.I arched into him, my fingers curling into his shirt and yanking downward to rip through the buttons of his fabric. He wanted words. I wanted actions. But hell if I was too proud not to play his little game.

He wanted me to say it?

I’d fucking say it.

“Taste me, Alaric.” I grabbed hold of his belt, my nails sharpening as I tugged at the leather. “Or I’m going to find another wolf who will.”

He growled in response to that, his arm turning to cement around me. “Not fucking happening.”

“Then you had better damn well happen,” I told him. “And you’d better be fucking phenomenal, too.”

Arrogance darkened his expression. “Oh, Makayla.” He released my back to catch my wrist, his opposite hand granite against my neck. “I’m better than phenomenal.” He guided me backward until my legs brushed the mattress. “Don’t move.”

I didn’t understand why he’d said that until the blade appeared in his hand. One minute, he was holding my wrist, and the next… “Alaric…”

“Shh,” he whispered, drawing the knife down the middle of my chest. Not harshly, or even enough to threaten, but just the feel of his dagger had goose bumps pebbling down my arms.

He must have had that in his pocket,I thought, dizzy as he reached my belly button. A prepared alpha. An armed wolf. A protective man.

God, why was that such a turn-on?

My limbs turned to jelly just knowing he’d been armed all night, ready for anything.

And now…

Now he was drawing the blade along my thigh, to the hem of the dress and back up beneath the fabric. My thighs tingled as he softly traced my skin. So tender and sure, with no hint of hesitation. But up, up… there.

I froze, his name tickling my tongue.

He hushed me again, his gaze holding mine, studying my reaction to his ministrations below.

Not quite against my bare skin, just tracing the edge of my lacy panties up to my hip, where he deftly slid beneath the string to slice it right off.

A jolt went straight to my core, my body reacting to the intimacy of that act.

But he was moving again, and I stood transfixed by his actions, both terrified and excited by what he intended to do next.

The cool metal met my opposite hip as he severed the thin strap of my underwear. My legs trembled as he caught the lace with his blade and drew it out from between my thighs.

Goddamn.

I’d never let someone play with a weapon in bed before. Maybe a little clawing, but nothing like this.

He removed the knife from my skirts and lifted it upward between us, drawing my focus to the black lace twisted around the blade. Then my lips parted as he licked the damp part of the fabric.

A rumble sounded in his chest, and dear God, I almost combusted at the sight of his wolf overtaking his irises. Approval emanated from him in palpable waves, his hunger striking me in the gut.

“Fucking delicious, Makayla.” His tone was the kind that usually accompanied a demand to strip or to kneel. But he said neither of those things. Instead, he set his knife on the nightstand and grabbed my hips.

My dress disappeared in the next second, his hands having reached up to grab the straps and rip it down the middle.

“Now,” he said softly, his gaze falling to my bra, “we’re almost even.” He bent to nibble my neck, his teeth skimming my pulse as he pushed me back onto the bed.

“Almost even?” I breathed, my chest heaving as he shifted me upward to the pillows.

“Mmm,” he hummed, settling over me and licking a path downward to my breasts. “Knife play.” He latched onto my nipple through the fabric, biting down and sucking at the same time.

I bowed off the mattress, my heart a rapid thundering sound in my ears.

“I prefer my method,” he said against my lacy bra. “So much more sensual than stabbing.” He bit down on the fleshy part of my breast, his teeth breaking the skin as he marked me with his teeth.

“Alaric,” I hissed.

He laved the wound with his tongue, his chuckle all masculine arrogance. “Biting is also more sensual.” He licked me again. “But now I made you really bleed.”

I growled.

He chuckled again.

Then my bra disappeared, and he made it up to me by worshipping me with his mouth. Christ, his tongue, I thought, delirious as he traced my taut peaks and destroyed me again with his teeth. No more blood, just harsh tugs accompanied by soothing licks, to the point where I was ready to just float on up to heaven without the orgasm attached because he was just that good with his mouth.

Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he made me come like this.

Because every single euphoric button I possessed was pressed in the span of minutes with his skilled mouth.

Only, he was nowhere near done.

Electricity shot up my spine as he began to descend, his blue eyes capturing mine as he kissed a path all the way down the center of my body.

He settled between my sprawled thighs, my center weeping in warm welcome, only to pause as he caught sight of my hip. The wolf marking practically gleamed in the moonlight, a beacon that somehow made me feel more exposed. And yet, it’d always been there. A literal birthmark that I’d carried all my life.

“All wolves of my kind have one,” I told him, reading the question in his gaze.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, bending to trace the reddish-brown brand with his tongue. Heat curled in my lower abdomen in response, his intimate touch setting my blood on fire. “You’re beautiful,” he added, his voice low and darkly erotic against my inherited tattoo. “And you taste very fucking sweet.” He nipped my hip bone before drawing his mouth to the heart of me, his lips wasting no time in sealing around my clit and sending me into a wave of euphoric convulsions.

Not an orgasm.

Not yet.

But damn close.

And unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

His name left my mouth on a prayer I couldn’t hold back, his skill one that deserved my praise and so much more. He’d promised to deliver, and damn, did he deliver.

I felt devoured, revered, and utterly annihilated by his tongue, his teeth, his lips, his mouth. Stroking. Sucking. Licking. Nibbling. All in a sequence that defied meaning. He added his fingers, too, his touch a searing brand inside me that sent me tumbling closer to the edge. Ready to fall. Ready to explode.

“Alaric,” I whispered, begging him with my voice.

I don’t beg.

I don’t crawl.

But in that moment, I was willing to do whatever he damn well wanted so long as he allowed me a few seconds of dark oblivion.

And he knew it, too.

I could see it in his eyes as he stared up at me from between my thighs, the pride a palpable force that only made me burn hotter for him. This arrogant alpha knew he was good. The best, even. And he loved that I now knew it, too.

Damn, we hadn’t even fucked yet, and I was ready to just lie down and supplicate.

He didn’t force me to admit it. He didn’t make me crawl or do any of these things. Just knowing he’d won was enough to push him forward, to clamp down on my sensitive bud and shoot me right into the stars.

I screamed. I panted. I shook. I went blind. The pleasure burned inside me, rippling through my limbs, claiming me from within and drowning me in a cloud of rapture that left me replete and oddly restless beneath him.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

And yet, I’d completely shattered for him.

But it wasn’t his mouth that I craved now. I… I wanted him. “Fuck me,” I demanded, not allowing myself a moment to even think about it. “God, Alaric, I need you to fuck me.” I was in agony without him inside me, his presence one I required to breathe, to survive.

That orgasm had awakened my beast, her instincts rioting through me and commanding his wolf to complete us. To fuck us. To please us.

“You want my cock, baby?” he asked, his lips wet and suddenly against mine. “I thought you wanted to taste me.” He dipped his tongue into my mouth, allowing me to indulge in my own flavor. Musky. Feminine. Sweet. God, he was right. But that didn’t matter. What I needed, craved, and required was what mattered most.

“Fuck me,” I repeated, arching into him and finding him as naked as me.

He’d kicked off his shoes and pants.

I didn’t know when.

I didn’t care when.

I just… oh God, he was so damn hard. “Inside me,” I demanded. “Now, Alaric. Fuck me now.” It wasn’t a full moon, so I couldn’t get pregnant. I couldn’t contract diseases from him or anyone. Therefore, no protection was needed. Only him. “Now,” I repeated, my nails turning into claws as I scratched down his back. My legs went around his hips, my soaking heat kissing his impressive arousal.

He growled.

I growled back.

There were two alphas in this bed, and I’d issued a demand. He would fuck me, and he would fuck me now. I sank my teeth into his lip, drawing blood, then went to his neck to do the same. If he wouldn’t give me what I wanted, then I’d—

He slammed into me, eliciting a guttural sound from my throat. It vibrated through us to the bed and the walls, the pleasure of the moment eclipsing all rational thought and engulfing us in a sensual fog.

I licked the wound on his neck, then bit him again to spur him on, needing this, needing him, needing everything he could give me.

He responded in kind, his beast taking over to drive the pace and drowning us in his savage energy.

Hot.

Rapturous.

Heaven.

Or maybe it was hell. It borderline hurt, our movements harsh and underlined in alpha strength. God, I’d never experienced anything like Alaric and his power. All that pent-up dominance resulted in a ferocity that stole my breath. But I took every thrust, accepting every nip and bite, and returned his fierce attention with bites of my own.

Alpha on alpha.

Man on woman.

Wolf on wolf.

It was an intimate dance underlined in deep, dark emotions. Alaric’s pain from the loss of his brother. His frustrations over the pack and the expectations laid out before him. His anger over the situation with the hybrid. And the utter bliss he found in my presence, a soothing mechanism he hadn’t realized he needed.

All those thoughts seemed to burst through me, his feelings touching mine as I unleashed my own back onto him.

My desire to solve this case.

My need to help others.

My innate loneliness over never finding the right place within my pack—an emotion I hadn’t really ever noticed before, but one I felt now. Something from my childhood. A misplaced feeling I’d long buried after choosing my path. Why it chose now to surface, I didn’t know.

And I was too lost to the rapturous dance with Alaric to consider it more.

He took us to new heights, introducing me to a euphoric world unlike any other.

His bite slayed me. His touch burned me. His cock branded me.

Every beautiful stroke sent me climbing that much higher, until my insides couldn’t take it anymore and I burst wide open for the world to hear and see.

So. Much. Heat.

So. Much. Pleasure.

Dear Almighty, the passion—it was the most intense of my life, forever altering my understanding of sex. Alaric followed me into oblivion with a shout, his wolf growling in his chest and sending me tumbling into a third climax, my inner walls squeezing Alaric’s cock as though to hold him there for the rest of my damn existence.

And we were only in missionary position.

Jesus, what could he do when driving into me from behind?

Up against a wall?

Over the counter?

All the ideas floated through my mind at once, some of them darker than any I’d ever envisioned for myself, and yet oddly right. I could almost sense Alaric doing the same, his brain already considering which way to take me next.

Again,I swore I heard him say. We are doing that again.

I huffed a laugh, my mouth finding his to lose us both to a kiss underlined in promise.

Because yeah, we were totally doing that again.

And probably a third time for good measure.

And then a fourth because why not?

Sleep was for the weak.

“We’re not weak,” Alaric said, somehow reading my mind.

I smiled. “Prove it.”

He nibbled my lower lip, then pressed his mouth to my ear. “Get on all fours and I will.”