Chapter 7

Aina The moment I came back to my senses and heard his soft laugh, embarrassment flooded me. I quickly covered my face with both hands. I had let him go down on me. No—begged him. But the air between us was still heavy with desire. His scent lingered, thick and intoxicating. And yet, he looked calm… too calm. Unlike me, who had completely lost it, even fainted. Maybe it was the alpha blood in him—stronger, more controlled. Maybe that’s why he could handle his own heat. But I wasn't going to be a hypocrite. I needed to push past my shyness. Slowly, I lowered my hands and forced myself to look at him. I sat there on the couch—naked, exposed—I met his gaze. His eyes burned with want. This was all new to me. I had no idea what I was doing. My eyes drifted to his pants. The bulge there looked like it was aching to be set free. “Doesn’t it… hurt?” I asked softly, concern tightening my voice. He gave a small nod. “Yeah, it does,” he murmured. “But you’re alright now. That’s what matters.” I swallowed hard. “Do you want me to… relieve you?” A spark lit up in his eyes. A mischievous grin curled on his lips as he leaned closer, his face now just an inch from mine. “And how exactly would you do that?” he asked, voice low and teasing. I couldn’t look away. He was breathtaking—those piercing blue eyes, that strong jawline, the almost-blond hair falling perfectly over his forehead. And his lips… heart-shaped and so distracting. I couldn’t stop staring at them. “The same way you did it for me,” I whispered. “I… I don’t want us to mate. Not here. Not in my parents’ house.” He nodded, once, then again—slowly. “Then what are you waiting for, Aina?” he said with a teasing smirk. “Get to work.” How could he joke right now? His heat was practically a storm in the air. I knelt before him as he slowly unzipped his pants, his eyes never leaving mine. His lips parted slightly, breath shallow—waiting, anticipating what I was about to do. The moment his length sprang free from its confines, I gasped. He was thick… long and full. The sheer size of him made me wonder if I could even take him in my mouth. I worried about the possibility of accidentally biting him—but even with that fear, my mouth watered. I wanted him. He reached down and gently cupped my face, studying it as if memorizing every detail. His voice came out low and patient. “Take ahold of it.” I obeyed, wrapping my hand around him while still holding his gaze. His expression shifted, pleasure flickering across his features—and that look alone made pride swell inside me. I was doing this to him. “Now… move your hand. Up and down,” he instructed gently. I followed his lead, stroking him slowly at first. His mouth parted more, his chest rising with each breath. The veins along his shaft pulsed beneath my touch, and I began to move my hand faster. As I pumped him steadily, my eyes drifted to his length again. I couldn’t resist anymore. I lowered my head and flicked my tongue across the tip. He gasped. Encouraged, I continued—licking him slowly from top to base, my hand never stopping its rhythm. Then my mouth found his balls, and I took one gently between my lips, suckling as I stroked him. Another gasp escaped him, and his hand found its way into my hair. “Just like that... right there,” he murmured, voice thick with pleasure. Finally, I opened my mouth and took him in. My lips wrapped around him as I slowly sank down his length, my hand still wrapped at the base. I bobbed my head up and down, gradually picking up pace. When he hit the back of my throat, I choked slightly, but the way his voice cracked in pleasure pushed me to keep going. I liked hearing him like that. I wanted him to lose himself—to think of no one else but me. “Take your mouth off,” he warned, his voice strained and urgent. “I’m about to—” But I didn’t stop. Moments later, he let out a deep, guttural cry as he released into my mouth, his hands gripping my head, his hips tensing beneath my touch. I swallowed it all, not letting a drop escape. His moans echoed in my ears, and I knew—I had completely unraveled him. He breathed shakily, his voice low and ragged. “Fuck… fuck…” he repeated, barely able to catch his breath. I glanced up at him, watching the way his chest rose and fell, the way his body trembled with release. His face was still flushed, his lips parted, eyes slightly glazed as he tried to process the pleasure. The sight of him—completely undone—made my thighs clench. I was wet again, just from seeing how wrecked I made him. I smiled, satisfaction dripping from my voice. “See?” I whispered teasingly. He chuckled, breathless and disoriented, before leaning down to kiss me. His lips found mine—hot, hungry, tasting of everything we were. Of him. Of me. It was raw. Intoxicating. His hands gripped my waist as I rose to my feet, then climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs without breaking the kiss. Our lips stayed fused, desperate and slow at once, tongues dancing, teeth grazing. He groaned low in his throat as I settled over him, my body pressing against his, our breath mingling. I ground my ass against his shaft, and he broke the kiss, letting out a strained sound. God, I wanted him inside me—I was going insane with need. “Not here, babe,” he said, his voice sounding like he was on the edge, almost begging. “I know,” I replied softly. “Then stop grinding against me,” he said, and I chuckled. It took everything in me to pull away from him. He was breathing hard, like he’d just run a mile, leaning his head back and raking his fingers through his hair with a low chuckle. I simply watched him, and when his eyes met mine, he said, “When I finally have you to myself, you won’t be able to walk for two days.” I smiled, realizing I’d been feeling bolder lately—maybe it was the bond between us. “I’ll be waiting for that day,” I replied.