Not Even Close

Not Even Close

Alina’s POV

Aaron didn’t waste another second. The moment the hair tie snapped into place, his hand tangled in that very ponytail, his knuckles grazing the nape of my neck as he forced my head back. His eyes were dark, clouded with a volatile mixture of lingering resentment and a hunger so sharp it was predatory.

“Don't start something you can't finish,” he warned, his voice a low, guttural grunt. He was trying to push me away, yet every muscle in his body was screaming for the very thing I was offering.

“You have no idea what you've done to me this week. I won't go easy on you, Alina,” he groaned, the threat vibrating against my lips like a physical brand.

I didn't answer with words. I couldn't. Instead, I sank slowly to my knees, my gaze never leaving his.

The sound of his zipper was deafening in the soundproofed office. a sharp, metallic herald of my surrender.

“Fuck.”

He hissed as my hands finally made contact, my fingers tracing the searing heat of him. My own throat went tight. Even though we had mated before, this was the first time I was taking him this way. He had never insisted, and my pride had never let us reach this level of raw vulnerability.

I could feel his breathing hitch, turning jagged with anticipation. His eagerness sparked something deep in my core, a feminine power I hadn't known I possessed. I slowly parted my lips, and as I took him in, the air in the room seemed to evaporate. He was marble and fire, a testament to the seven days of frustration I had forced him to endure.

“Fuckkkkk,” he growled animalistically. I felt his hands find purchase in my ponytail, his fingers digging in tight as he fought to keep his knees from buckling. I looked up at him once, my eyes pleading for the connection we had lost, and then I leaned in, losing myself in the rhythm.

The work was slow at first, deliberate. I wanted him to feel every ounce of my regret. I used my tongue to trace the length of him, savoring the way his breath hitched. Every movement was a silent apology for the venomous words I’d hurled at him in the car.

"Alina… Oh my God," he hissed, his head falling back against the glass window, his eyes fluttering shut.

Due to the height difference, he had to bend his knees, and I tried my best to swallow the sheer, pulse-pounding magnitude of him. The friction, the heat, and the slick, wet sounds filling the quiet office pushed him over the precipice. I was relentless. I didn't stop until I felt the tell-tale tremor in his thighs, the way his muscles turned to iron beneath my touch.

He let out a low, guttural sound, his hands tightening in my hair as the rhythm broke. He began to thrust with deep, desperate grunts, hitting the back of my throat with a force that made my eyes water. Saliva pooled at the corners of my mouth from the intensity of it, but his every moan only made me more determined to please him. My free hand gripped the base of him, my own arousal making my head spin.

“Fuck. I’m cumming. Alina, I’m… fucking… cumming… ahh…”

He moaned harder, finally finding his release and filling me with the heavy, salty proof of his need. I felt his eyes on me, searching, checking to see if I would recoil from the reality of him. But I didn't. My man deserved this view. I swallowed every drop, then seductively licked my finger, tasting him as I slowly lifted my head.

Gosh, that view.

I looked up at him with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. He looked absolutely lethal. his chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead, and his eyes dark with a dangerous, lingering crave. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my voice a breathless whisper. "Am I forgiven now?"

For a heartbeat, he just stared down at me, his hand gently stroking my hair. Then, a dark, wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Not even close," he growled.

Before I could breathe, he reached down, caught me under my arms, and hoisted me up as if I weighed nothing. He strode across the office in three predatory steps and tossed me onto the leather sofa. The impact didn't hurt, but the sight of him looming over me, ripping open the buttons of his shirt until they scattered like hailstones, made my blood turn to liquid fire.

He didn't go slow. He moved between my legs, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. When he thrust into me, it wasn't a gentle reunion.

it was a total claim.

"You thought it was cheap?" he barked, a harsh, jagged groan escaping him with every heavy, rhythmic drive. "You thought my heart was something you could just... discard because you were scared?"

"Aaron, no—" I gasped, my back arching off the leather as he hit the core of my pleasure with punishing accuracy. He had just found release, yet he was harder than ever, a relentless rod of iron hitting the very depths of me.

"You called me a dog," he scolded, his voice thick with a mix of pleasure and pain as his forehead dropped against mine. "You made me feel like a monster for loving you."

"I’m sorry," I cried out, my legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper, wanting the very marrow of him. "I love you... I love you so much."

The confession broke the last of his restraint. His pace turned wild, the leather of the sofa squeaking beneath us as he hammered into me.

“Say that again.” He growled, pulling me closer until there was no air between us.

“I love you…” I said with a whimper, the word broken by the force of him pounding into my core.

“Again.” He roared, this time with a hint of raw desperation.

“I love you, Aaron. I love you so much.” A lonely tear slipped from my eye as I said it. The confession was a spiritual release as much as a physical one. It was all true.

“You love me. You're going to love only me. I'm the only man you're going to ever love. Nothing is ever going to change that,” he grunted, his voice possessive and dark. I arched back, feeling him hitting my deep abdomen with every devastating stroke.

“This heat. This hunger. This madness. It's never going to end. It's never fucking going to end,” he growled. He tore at the silk of my dress, his teeth grazing my skin as he bared my breasts to the cool office air. I gasped as his hungry mouth clamped onto my nipple, his tongue swirling in a way that made my toes curl.

“Fuck. I missed these so much,” he grunted against my bosom, sucking with a desperate, starving intensity that left me breathless. “It's…mine. It's. All. Fucking. Mine.”

He thrust wilder, and I felt my lower abdomen tighten, struggling to hold the weight of his passion. All I could do was lift my hips, giving him everything I had. Our voices joined in a chorus of ruined groans, the rhythmic sound of skin on skin echoing through the office like a heartbeat.

I felt my own orgasm building. a white-hot tension in my thighs that I couldn't contain.

“Aaron… I’m… I’m… ah!”

“I know… give it to me, baby,” he grunted, speeding his thrusts until they were a blur of friction and sensation.

The world exploded in a kaleidoscope of white light as my walls clamped around him in a violent, pulsing release. Seconds later, he followed, letting out a final, soul-shattering roar as he came deep inside me once again, pinning me to the sofa with the sheer weight of his body.

We lay there for a long time afterward, tangled and sweating, the only sound the frantic beating of two hearts finally back in sync. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch finally, blessedly soft.

"Don't ever doubt me again," he whispered against my skin, his voice possessive even in its softness. "Or I'll have to find even more creative ways to remind you who you belong to."