My Alpha Shamed Me at His Victory Feast, So I Took His Coast novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Up on Your Knees

"You spoke for me," I said, with his shirt balled in my fist and the attic door shut behind us.

"I said I stood."

"In front of forty captains and the Counter. That's speaking."

"It's a different word," Armand said.

"Don't be clever."

The attic had one iron bed, one lamp and a floor that told Verna everything.

Downstairs the television was on loud, a game show, and a woman's voice was begging someone to buy a vowel.

I had put the lamp on myself.

I wanted to see him.

"You're angry," he said.

"I'm not angry. I'm deciding what you owe me."

His mouth moved at one corner.

"Name it."

I pushed him backward until the backs of his knees hit the mattress, and he sat.

The old springs shrieked.

We both froze and listened.

The game show went on.

"Up on your knees, Armand," I said, very low.

He looked up at me, and his eyes darkened.

He got up on the bed and knelt upright in the middle of the quilt.

His thighs were spread, and his hands hung at his sides.

He was already hard through his jeans.

"All of it off," I said.

He undid his belt and shoved the jeans down.

He pulled his shirt over his head, and the lamp lit the dark hair on his chest, and the scar, and his shoulders.

I stood at the edge of the bed with my arms folded and took my time looking.

"You like this," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"Say it plain."

"I like when you tell me what to do."

My whole body answered that.

I took off my sweater and my jeans without any hurry.

I took off my underwear last and let it drop on his knee.

He made a hungry sound.

I climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of him.

I put my hands on his shoulders and kissed him.

It was slow at first, open and deep.

His beard scraped my chin.

His hands came up to my waist and held me carefully.

"I'm not made of glass," I said against his mouth.

"No."

"Then grab me."

He grabbed me.

He pulled me hard against him, chest to chest, and I felt his cock jump between us, hot against my belly.

I moaned into his mouth, and he kissed the sound right back out of me.

"Quiet," I whispered. "She'll hear."

"Then be quiet."

"I can't if you do that."

He did it again.

His big palm closed over my breast, and his thumb rolled across the nipple.

Then he bent his head and took it in his mouth.

I bit my own lip hard enough to hurt.

He sucked slowly, and his tongue flicked, and the pull of it went straight down between my legs.

He moved to the other breast and gave it the same slow attention.

My fingers dug into his hair.

"Armand," I breathed. "Armand, please."

"Please what?" he said.

"You know what."

"Tell me," he said, and smiled against my skin.

"I want to feel you inside me."

He lifted his head, and his mouth was wet, and he looked at me with something close to awe.

I reached down and wrapped my fingers around him.

He was thick and hot and hard in my hand.

I stroked him slowly, root to tip, and watched his face change.

"Stay still," I said.

He stayed still.

It cost him, and I could see it in his jaw and in the cords of his neck.

I rose on my knees and shifted forward, so that I knelt astride his thighs with my pussy just above him.

I held him upright with one hand.

I lowered myself an inch and dragged the head of him through my slick folds.

We both shuddered.

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