Chapter 75 Patrick
My hands find her shoulders, holding on as if she might disappear. "Lottie," I breathe, and my voice cracks.
She stills, fingers still buried in me. "What is it?" Her voice is soft, worried.
I shake my head, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. "I just—" I laugh, wet and broken. "I can't believe this is real. That we get to keep this. That I get to keep you."
Something in her face softens, and she leans down to press her forehead to mine. "It's real," she whispers. "We're real."
I reach for her without thinking, rubbing my cheek along her forearm to leave a faint trace of my own scent behind. It's not as much as hers, but it feels right, a small claim in return. She growls low in approval and pulls her fingers free.
In one smooth motion, she strips the rest of her clothes off, her dick standing thick and heavy, the head already gleaming. I wrap both hands around the shaft, feeling the hot, heavy weight and the way it twitches under my touch. I stroke her slowly, deliberately, watching her eyelids flutter. I want to make her feel as loved as she makes me feel.
She lets me stroke once before catching my wrists and pinning them above my head with one hand. Her grip is firm, effortless. She guides her dick between my thighs and rubs against my entrance.
The blunt head presses against my slick hole, and she sinks deep in one long, steady thrust. As if she can't get inside fast enough, but doesn't want to hurt me.
I gasp at the stretch, my walls fluttering around her as more slick gushes out around the intrusion, making everything obscenely wet. The fullness is overwhelming, but it's the look on her face that really gets me—reverent, amazed, like she's holding something precious.
She stills when she's balls deep, staring at me with an open-mouthed look of almost surprise.
I can't help as my hole clenches around her shaft. I just want her to move. My body is overly sensitive from the high of getting the okay to be with Lottie and still remain a professor. But it's more than that. It's the emotional overload, the way every nerve feels tuned to her frequency.
Then she's moving, deep rolls of her hips that drag wet, filthy sounds from my body with every stroke. While she fucks me, she brings her wrist up again. She rubs the scent gland along the side of my throat in firm strokes, then drags it down my chest in rhythm with her thrusts, layering fresh pine over the scent she already left there. The scent builds heavy in the air, her snowy forest aroma threading through my grapefruit sweetness until I can taste it on the back of my tongue.
My dick rubs against her stomach with every thrust, leaking steadily as she fucks into me with finesse, hitting my sweet spot over and over again. I cry out, her name tumbling from my lips like a prayer. "Lottie—Lottie, yes—"
She answers by gripping my hips harder, driving deeper. "Patrick," she groans, and the sound of my name on her lips, thick with pleasure and love, sends a fresh wave of emotion through me.
I manage to free one wrist long enough to press my face into her forearm again, adding another light swipe of my own scent before she pins me back down. "Mark me with your scent," I moan against her mouth when she leans down for another kiss. "Cover me. I want everyone to know I'm yours."
She does. Her free wrist strokes across my ribs and lower belly, careful to avoid my dick but claiming everything else as she fucks me harder. Slick keeps pouring from me, easing each plunge until her hips meet my ass with a steady rhythm. The knot at the base of her dick swells just enough to tug on my rim on every pull back. I feel owned, surrounded by her, the bond humming through me with every deep grind.
Pleasure coils fast and tight. I come first, my dick untouched, my hole clenching in rhythmic pulses as cum stripes hot across my stomach. More slick spills out of me around her dick, soaking the couch beneath us. The orgasm rips through me with an emotional intensity that leaves me shaking. I'm crying, I realize, hot tears slipping from the corners of my eyes as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me.
Lottie sees them. Her expression shifts from pleasure to something tender and fierce. She doesn't stop, but her thrusts soften, become slower, more deliberate. She drives deep and holds as her dick pulses, hot cum flooding me in thick waves, filling me until I feel the warmth spreading deep inside. She stays buried, grinding slow and shallow while she rubs her wrist once more across my chest and throat, layering the pine scent fresh and thick in a way it will linger. As if she can't cover me in enough of her scent. As if she wants to make it impossible for me to wash the scent of her off of me.
I lie there catching my breath, body still twitching around her, the combined scents of grapefruit, honey, and snowy pine hanging heavy in the room. I turn my head and press a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist where it rests beside my face, tasting the faint mix of us on her skin.
"I love you," I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. We've said it before, but never like this. Never with the weight of permanence behind it.
Lottie's breath hitches. She stares down at me, eyes wet, and I realize she's crying too.
"I love you too, Patrick." She says my name like it's sacred. "So much it scares me."
She rests her body against mine while still managing to keep her weight off of me. The tingles buzz through me constantly from the contact of her skin against mine. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath from our quick coupling. It was quick because we couldn't contain the happiness and relief of being allowed to freely love each other.
She shifts above me, lifting her head to look at my face. Her eyes roam across my features like she's seeing me for the first time, and there's something soft and wondering in the way her gaze settles on mine. Her hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheekbone, wiping away the last traces of tears. The tingles from that small touch race down my neck and spread warm across my chest.
"Patrick," she says, and it's not just my name. It's a breath, a prayer, a sound of disbelief. Like she can't quite believe I'm real and she gets to have me.
I reach up and thread my fingers through her hair, pulling her down until our foreheads press together. Her pine scent wraps around me, warm and familiar, and I breathe her in deep.
"Lottie," I moan, the sound soft and broken. My name on her lips and hers on mine, and it feels like claiming and being claimed all at once.
She stares at me like that for a long moment, eyes dark and bright at the same time. There's wonder in the way she traces the line of my jaw, the slope of my nose, the curve of my mouth. Like she's memorizing me all over again. A slow smile spreads across her face, and it's so full of love and amazement that my chest aches with it.
"We get to do this," she whispers. "We get to have this. Openly."
I nod against her forehead, my own smile matching hers. "We do."
The tingles dance between us, soft and constant, the bond humming like a second heartbeat. She lowers herself just enough to press a gentle kiss to my lips, and it's different from before. Slower. Reverent. When she pulls back, her eyes are still fixed on mine, full of that same tender awe.
I let myself lie there beneath her, marked and full and wanted, staring up at the alpha who gets to love me without hiding. The wonder of it settles deep in my bones, as real and warm as the cum still leaking slowly from my hole.
And for the first time in months, the fear that gripped my heart is gone. All that's left is her.