Chapter 4 Breeding Process IV
He stopped me just as I reached for the last button, his broad chest already in full display.
His hand shot forward, gripping my wrist. In the pale wash of moonlight, the glint of his wedding band caught my eye, making my heart sink. His Luna. His wife. Was she truly alright with this? Did she accept it simply because it was Pack law, because she had no choice?
His fingers shifted, firm yet controlled, cupping my chin and jerking it upward until my eyes met his.
"Do not get ahead of yourself, love. What is your name?"
His voice was a hushed whisper—husky, dominant, laced with the commanding aura of an Alpha.
I swallowed hard, trying to tame my racing heartbeat. Sable had been right—he was breathtaking. His gorgeous face was too much of a distraction, so I forced myself to look away as I stammered, "B-Bambi."
"You have a beautiful name. It suits you," he murmured, lips curving ever so slightly.
Despite myself, a smile tugged at my lips. My hand moved unconsciously to wrap around his waist. "Is this what you say to the other girls?"
"It is just you." His voice was a rasp of heat, his hand cradling my cheek with possessive tenderness. "You are drop-dead gorgeous."
The words slipped from me before I could stop them. "I'm a virgin."
"Perfect." His whisper brushed my skin, his lips hovering dangerously close to mine.
A shiver ran down my spine as his hand trailed slowly along my sides, every stroke igniting my nerves.
"Do you care for a drink, baby?"
"Can we just get to it? I want you."
Oh lord...
"We would," he promised, his thumb brushing deliberately over my nipples, hardened against the fabric of my dress. "You're too hot to resist, but I don't want you sober."
My breath hitched. "What? Did you do this to the others?"
He left my side, striding to the mini bar. The clink of glass echoed softly as he poured whiskey into two tumblers. When he returned, he handed me one, his silver gaze unwavering.
"Bambi," he began, savoring my name—rolling it off his tongue with a gentleness so intimate it stole my breath—"everything I've done since stepping into this room… I haven't done for anyone else."
"So, I'm special?" I teased, though my chest rose and fell faster.
"Yes. You are." He raised his glass. "Have a drink."
I sipped, wincing as the bitter sharpness scorched down my throat.
This was madness. Just two days ago, I had been plotting my escape from the Omega quarters. And now here I was—drinking with the Alpha, moments away from giving him my innocence.
When I slanted my gaze at him, my heart stuttered. His silver eyes were locked on me, devouring me, stripping me bare, even as his lips accepted the liquor into his mouth.
"My God… you are so beautiful." His whisper caressed my ears, reverent and raw.
I managed to find my voice. "Are you with me only because I'm beautiful?"
"I like you, Bambi." He downed the rest of his whiskey, watching until I mirrored him. His words came firm, sure. "You tick every box."
His palm found my cheek again, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "You will be my breeding mate."
No...
"Having children with your bloodline… perhaps that is the Moon Goddess's gift to me for becoming Alpha."
What?
"I—I don't—"
His lips claimed mine in a soft press, silencing my protest. "We will have beautiful children," he whispered against my mouth.
"But I don't—"
He relieved me of the glass and set both on the counter, his hand trailing to my backside, squeezing firmly. A soundless moan broke from me at his touch. His hands were large, commanding, yet gentle.
My palm pressed over his as he kneaded me slowly, heat stirring low in my belly. Then his hand dipped lower, sliding beneath the fabric of my dress, pulling me flush against his solid chest.
"Wait…" I pushed lightly against him. He released me instantly, brows raising in curiosity.
"What is it?"
"I… I have something to tell you."
For all his power, he seemed kind. It would feel like betrayal to deceive him.
"By all means." He leaned back against the counter, the move effortless, dripping with charisma.
"I—I—I'm… ehm…" My throat tightened.
"Hey." He tilted my chin up, eyes burning into mine. "I don't bite. Tell me what you desire."
Up close, he was a vision. A Greek god sculpted in flesh—stunning, perfect, too perfect.
"I… c-can you be gentle?"
The words spilled before I could stop them.
I knew I should confess who I really was, should face the consequences of my deception. But under the full moon, every rational thought scattered, leaving only raw desire—the need to have this man take what no one else ever had.
"Yes," he murmured. "I'll be gentle."
Then his mouth crushed mine, devouring me as though I were his last breath. His lips moved with possession, urgency, hunger. He groaned and growled against me, claiming me with every press.
When he broke away, both of us were gasping, my lips swollen, my chest rising fast. I dove back in, kissing him harder, my arms curling around his shoulders, pressing myself against the plane of his body.
He pried my lips open, his tongue sweeping in, exploring hungrily. His arm banded around my waist, locking me in place as our kiss deepened into something reckless.
We broke apart only to meet each other's gaze panting, wanting.
His thumb brushed my bottom lip before he kissed it lightly, then lifted me into his arms, carrying me bridal-style toward the bed.
My heart hammered wildly as he sat me at the edge of the mattress.
His shirt came off in one fluid motion, his muscles carved and gleaming. My fingers trembled as I traced the hard planes of his chest, my eyes never leaving his. He let me explore, his gaze molten, his hand rising to caress my cheek as if I were art.
"You are breathtaking," he whispered.
I bit my lip, my core throbbing with need. His scent, his stare, his voice, everything about him was intoxicating.
My fingers slid to the straps of my dress, pushing them off until it pooled around me, baring my breasts to the cool air.
He leaned in, cupping them, kneading firmly until I arched with a moan.
My gaze burned into his as he lowered himself, lips wrapping around my nipple, tongue flicking and teasing. Heat shot through me.
I gasped, my hand reaching to cradle his face as he sucked, my eyes tracing every detail from the mole by his nose, the strong cut of his jaw, the perfection of him.
Then I saw it, a small scar along his forehead.
"What is this?" I whispered breathlessly, shuddering at the feel of his wet tongue working me.
He pulled back just enough to smirk, lips glistening.
"Don't try to know too much." His voice was low, dangerous, yet enticing. He guided me back onto the bed, pressing me down.
My hand immediately moved to unbuckle his belt, stripping him down to his briefs. He was huge, so much so that my heart skipped a beat at the sight. I forced myself to steady my breath.
He leaned into me, his lips brushing against my ear. "Don't be nervous. I'll be gentle. I promise."
As he lifted my dress and slipped my panties away, his thumb caressed my core with teasing softness. My eyes drifted upward, drawn to the full moon glowing through the window, so luminous, so commanding.
Even when he slid into me, my lips parting in a painful moan, my gaze stayed locked on the moon. Because it was the true orchestrator of everything unfolding between us.
I had come in with a choice burning in my mind: either confess who I really was, or make sure this ended quickly, five minutes at most. But here I was, taking all of him in, my body betraying me as waves of pleasure surged with each slow thrust, stretching me to the brink and pulling me under.
A loud moan tore from my throat as my nails sank into the muscles of his back. I heard him mutter "fuck" more than once, but my mind was too clouded, too drunk on the rhythm of his movements to hold onto the words. I couldn't catch what he was saying. Maybe he was saying I was tight. Maybe he was saying my name. I didn't care.
My focus was on the moon, and with every thrust it felt like I was floating higher, closer to something dangerous and divine.
Consequences lingered like shadows in the back of my mind. I knew what this meant. I knew what came after. I was going to be his breeding mate. Not five minutes. Not ten. It had been nearly an hour since he stepped into this room, and I was still wrapped around him, trembling.
Then he leaned in, his hand moulding my breast as he whispered against my lips, "You can call me by my name, sweetheart. Dawn. Say it."
A sharp gasp escaped me, followed by a moan that melted into a please as his thrusts quickened. "Oh God… Dawn, fuck me harder."