Tentative. Uncertain. Like he's never done this before and is working from theory alone. His lips press back with a pressure that's almost questioning—is this right? Am I doing this right?—and his hand tightens on my shoulder blade.
I angle my head, deepen the kiss just slightly. His breath hitches. The chain clinks as my cuffed hand slides up his chest, finding the collar of his shirt, curling into it.
He makes a sound. Low, involuntary, trapped behind his teeth. Something between a groan and a growl that vibrates through his chest and into mine.
Then I'm sinking.
Down his body. My hands trail from his chest to his toned stomach to his belt, and I feel every muscle jump and tighten under my palms. He's watching me with that single eye so wide I can see white all around the blue now, his chest heaving, his hands hanging in the air like he doesn't know where to put them.
"Bells—"
"Shhhh."
My fingers find his belt buckle.
His hand lands on my shoulder, but he doesn't stop me.
I free the buckle. Pop the button. Pull the zipper down and feel his cock twitch against the back of my knuckles, already hard, already straining against the fabric.
"You don't have to?—"
"I know."
I take him in my hand and his head falls back with a sharp exhale, the tendons in his neck standing out like cables. His fingers dig into my shoulder hard enough to bruise. I stroke him once, just testing, and his hips jerk forward.
I take him in my mouth.
"Fuck—"
The sound he makes isn't human. It's raw and desperate and torn from somewhere so deep inside him I don't think he knew it existed. His hand flies from my shoulder to the bookshelf beside him, grabbing it for support, and books tumble off the shelf as his grip sends them scattering.
His cock is fuckinghuge, which is no surprise, and his knot is already half-swollen. The scars aren't a surprise, either. The worst of them is a silvered raised ridge that starts at the base in a starburst shape and spirals around and down his knot and shaft like a serpent.
When I gently trace the scar with my fingertips and Rex's knot swells a fraction, he winces and his breath hisses through his teeth. He goes soft in my hand.
Fuck,no wonder he's so aggressive.
He's an alpha. The scar must hurt when he gets hard. Never mind the obvious self-loathing that has its claws buried deep inside him. Alphas that can't burn off sexual energy go insane. Even feral, sometimes.
If he struggles to get hard…
Everything's adding up together in my head, and it's happeningfast.The isolation. The borderline ferality. The level at which he despises himself, how he acts like he doesn't deserve even the slightest hint of affection or kindness.
How he kissed me like it was his first time.
Because it was. He really, genuinelydid notknow what to do.
And I am going to be so,socareful with him.
CHAPTER 19
REX
She doesn't stop.
My cock is soft in her hand and she knows exactly why and she doesn't pull away, doesn't hesitate, doesn't make that face—the one I've imagined a thousand times in my worst scenarios, the disgust, the pity, theoh god what happened to you, even your dick is fucked up.
Her thumb traces the unmarred skin along the underside while her mouth presses a kiss to my hip bone.