Page 51 of The Rust in Her Hair

"Like that." Nico’s hips jerk, a sharp, involuntary thrust that makes my eyes water.

I pull back enough to breathe, then take him again, deeper this time. My tongue swirls around the head, teasing the sensitive ridge, the way that always gets him, before I sink back down. The sounds are wet and filthy in the quiet room, punctuated by his harsh breaths.

"There he is." My voice comes out shot to hell, rough from him. I mouth along the side of his cock, unhurried, in no rush at all now that he's finally paying attention. "You taste so damn good when you stop fighting me. Give it to me, alpha. I've got all night and nowhere I'd rather be than right here on my knees for you."

"Fuck." His voice drops low and wrecked. The hand in my hair loosens, his fingers moving against my scalp instead of yanking.

My own cock's aching where it's trapped in my shorts, has been since he first grabbed my hair, and I grind the heel of my palm against it once, trying to take the edge off.

I look up at him, at the hard line of his jaw, the way his head is thrown back, the muscles in his neck standing out in sharp relief. His eyes are squeezed shut.

That’s it, alpha, I say in my head. Give me that cum.

Sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I go after him for real now, faster, my hands curled around his big dick, chasing my mouth.

Nico’s breath breaks into a pant.

His thighs start to shake under my palms, and his grip finds my hair again, tight enough to sting. He's so fucking close. I can feel him getting there, the whole big frame of him drawing up.

Then I feel it.

The slow, thick swelling at the base of his cock. His knot thick against my tongue, working my jaw wide.

I moan around him, and I'm not doing it for show. I love this part.

I love the stretch of it, the ache building at the hinge of my jaw as he thickens, the way there's suddenly almost too much of him to handle.

Curling my hands around the knot—my fingers not quite closing—I squeeze and work it while I suck him through, sloppy and greedy, spit slicking my knuckles. My own hips roll against nothing.

He's swelling in my hand, in my mouth, and I'm so wound up from the taste and the weight of him that I could come from only his cock down my throat.

"Come on," I mumble around his knot, thick and barely words. "Let go, big guy. I've got you."

And that does it.

Nico goes off with a groan, coming long and hard down my throat.

I take all of it, swallowing while keeping the pressure on his knot as he pulses against my tongue. I wring him dry until he's twitching and oversensitive and trying to squirm back from my mouth.

Once his cock stills, he hangs there a second, slack and heaving. Then the alpha eases back and his cock slips free. My jaw's screaming and my throat's raw and I feel pretty damn accomplished about both.

I sit back on my heels and drag the back of my hand across my mouth.

I'm hard enough to hammer nails, but I ignore it. This isn’t about me.

"Holy shit, Mack." He cracks his eyes open and looks down at me. The tension is gone from his face, replaced by a weary kind of softness. "Come here." His voice is so hoarse.

He reaches down and pulls me to my feet, his arms wrapping around my waist, his face burying in my neck. He's still shaking a little.

Good.

His hands roam my back, feeling the grooves of muscle there. "Fuck, I love this big body," he murmurs against my skin.

Then one of his hands moves slowly, sliding down from my waist and dipping into the waistband of my shorts. His palm finds my cock, hot and hard, and he starts to stroke me, his grip firm. Just the way I like.

My hips buck into his touch before I can help it, and for half a second I consider letting him jerk me off.

Fuck, it'd be so easy to let him. I'm already right there, leaking all over his fist.