Page 13 of The Florist and Her Alphas

“Promise.”

She leaves. The lock clicks. The apartment is quiet again.

I finish the wine. Brush my teeth. Stumble to my bedroom in the dark, too tired to turn on the lights. The sheets are cool against my skin as I lie down on my belly, one arm tucked under the pillow, my face turned toward the window. The streetlight casts long amber shadows across the floor.

I think about Julian’s face.

The shock in his hazel eyes when his fingers touched my wrist. The way he pulled back like he’d been burned. He had felt that electric current, that live-wire connection between alpha and omega that nothing can fake.

My pussy throbs. Just once, a deep, insistent pulse between my thighs that makes me gasp softly into the pillow.

I haven’t felt this in years. Not on purpose. Not for myself.

With Magnus, sex was something that happened to me. He forced himself onto me while I stared at the ceiling and counted cracks. His knot swelling inside me, locking us together while I dissociated so completely I could barely feel my own body. His teeth in my neck, in my collarbone and my arms, marking me over and over while his pack watched.

None of the bites took. My body rejected him. Every time.

I haven’t touched myself since. Haven’t wanted to. My body was a crime scene. Evidence of something I survived.

But Julian’s touch woke something up. Something hungry. Something that belongs to me.

I stretch out fully, facedown on my belly, legs slightly parted, my toes pointing into the bed. The position feels vulnerable. Open. My ass curves up under the thin cotton of my pajama pants. I can feel the heat between my thighs, the dampness already gathering.

One arm stays under the pillow. The other slides slowly down my side, over the curve of my hip, over the swell of my ass. My fingers find the seam of my pajama pants, then slip beneath the elastic waistband. I press the heel of my hand against my underwear, right over my pussy.

The pressure is immediate. Electric.

My clit is swollen, sensitive, throbbing against the cotton. I rock my hips in tiny, experimental circles, grinding my palm against myself, and the friction makes me gasp into the pillow. My back arches. My toes curl.

Holy fuck.

I’ve never felt this. Not like this. Not with my own hand, in my own bed, with no one watching.

I push my hand underneath the waistband of my underwear. The cotton is soaked. My pussy is dripping wet, slick gathering between my folds, my clit hard and aching under my fingertips. I stroke myself from behind, two fingers gliding through my slick, circling my clit in slow, firm loops.

Not entering. Just stroking.

Everything is more intense while I’m on my belly. My own body weight pressing my fingers against my pussy is the perfect position.

My breathing turns shallow as my ass flexes with each thrust of my fingers into my pussy.

Sweat beads on my lower back. My pants are sticking to my skin. I squeeze my thighs around my hand, trapping it exactly where I need it, and grind faster. Harder. The pleasure builds in waves, each one higher than the last, crashing through my hips, my belly, my chest. My free hand grips the sheets, knuckles white, hanging on for dear life.

I’m close. So close.

Oh my god.

My pussy is pulsing, clenching on nothing, slick running down my inner thighs. I work my clit in tight, frantic circles, my fingers moving faster, my hips bucking in short, urgent thrusts against the mattress.

Every nerve is on fire. My skin is hypersensitive.

The brush of the sheets against my nipples makes them ache. The weight of my own body pressing me down onto my hand is driving me insane.

“Fuck,” I whimper into the pillow. The orgasm hits me like a wave.

My back arches sharply. My toes curl so hard they cramp. A cry tears out of me, muffled by the pillow, raw and desperate. The pleasure rushes through me in pulsing waves, starting at my clit and radiating outward. My thighs tremble, my belly clenches, my whole body shaking. I keep grinding through it, drawing every last shudder out, my fingers never stopping, circling my oversensitive clit until the sensation borders on pain and I have to force myself to slow down.

I collapse. Boneless. Breathless and covered in sweat.