Alpha's Dark Desires-Chapter 216: Getting Hot

Elena POV:

"You know you want it as much as I do," he murmured, voice soft and seductive, laced with that dangerous confidence that made my insides twist.

His palm slid up to my hip, curling there, tugging gently at the fabric as he nuzzled into the crook of my neck. I shuddered when his lips brushed my skin—soft at first, then biting down just enough to make me whimper.

"You feel the pull just like I do," he whispered. "No use denying it, little mate."

Fuck.

A moan slipped from my throat before I could catch it. That tiny sound seemed to be all the permission he needed.

His hand slipped under the hem of my nightgown, up, up — fingers trailing over my belly until he cupped my breast.

I arched back against him with a gasp.

His hand slid higher, under my gown now, finding the curve of my breast. His palm was hot and rough and perfect. He cupped me, thumb circling my nipple until it pebbled under his touch. Then he squeezed—just hard enough to make me bite my lip—and started to knead, fondling me until I was a mess of needy gasps. He found my nipple and rolled it between his fingers, and I was a moaning, panting mess, already dripping wet, already trembling.

My thighs rubbed together, desperate for friction.

I didn’t want it to stop.

He pulled back only to trail that same hand down again—slow, teasing, maddening—and hooked his fingers under the waistband of my panties. I didn’t stop him.

I couldn’t.

I lifted my hips slightly, silently giving him permission, and he slid them down my legs with a grunt of approval.

He squeezed my ass, hand gripping, then spanking lightly. I gasped, the sharp sting sending a thrill up my spine.

He gripped my ass again— firmly — kneading it in his palm, then gave it another sharp spank that made me gasp.

Fuck, that only turned me on more.

Then his lips were back on me, kissing and nibbling along my shoulder and the back of my neck.

The hardness between us returned, hotter now, more urgent. He slipped his cock between my thighs and began to thrust—just enough that the head rubbed against my slick folds, never quite entering, but never far away.

It was torture.

Delicious, unbearable torture.

His cock — thick, hard, hot — pressing between my thighs. The head slid between my folds, teasing me. He moved his hips just enough to make it torture. Not entering me, not yet — just rubbing, gliding, the ridge of him brushing over my clit again and again.

I was soaking.

"Tell me you want me inside you," he growled, voice hoarse, mouth pressed to my ear. "Tell me to enter you."

His cock slipped lower, dragging over my entrance, pulling away, then pressing back again, all while I trembled in his arms, wet and desperate.

"Fuck me, Damon," I gasped, voice raw and shaky. "I want you."

He stilled.

He paused — a beat — then lifted my leg just enough to change the angle.

He lifted my leg, aligning himself right at the center of everything I craved. I could feel him—there. Waiting. Thick and perfect and ready.

"Brace yourself, little mate," he whispered.

And just as I felt the pressure, just as I braced for the stretch, for the fullness, for the ecstasy of finally being his—

The head of his cock nudged against my entrance, and I felt him there — thick, ready, teasing the edge of everything I needed.

He started to push in—

And then—

His voice changed.

"If you keep making those sounds," he murmured, "I might assume you’re dreaming of me."

Wait.

What?

My eyes flew open.

Light was pouring into the room. Morning light. Warm and golden and cruel.

Damon stood at the edge of the bed, shirt half-buttoned, a black tie hanging loose around his neck. His hair was damp, probably fresh from a shower. His smirk was dangerous, crooked, amused.

I blinked at him, heart still thundering in my chest, my panties damp, my breathing shallow.

"Good morning, little mate," he said casually, pressing a kiss to my lips like it was the most normal thing in the world before straightening and turning back to finish dressing.

What.

The.

Actual.

Fuck.

I sat up in bed, dazed and burning, my dream still clinging to me like smoke. I blinked again, as if I could chase it away, but the phantom weight of his body still haunted my skin. My thighs were clenched. My panties were... soaked.

I’d dreamed about Damon.

Dreamed of him inside me.

And my body had responded like it was the gospel truth.

"Oh my god," I muttered, collapsing back into the pillows. "I need a cold shower."

Like... now.

My entire body was still aching — core clenched, thighs slick, nipples tight against my nightgown. That dream hadn’t just felt real — it had been real. In every cell of my being.

Jesus.

I needed a cold shower.A cold lake.An entire damn blizzard.

And maybe an exorcism.

Because my subconscious? It was a traitor.

*******

I didn’t even respond to Damon. Couldn’t.

I just sat there on the bed, jaw unhinged, heart slamming inside my chest like it was trying to bust free and throw itself back into that damn dream.

That dream.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

My thighs clenched again just thinking about it. The sound of his voice. The weight of him behind me. The feel of his cock sliding between my folds—God. I was still wet. My body was literally mourning the loss of him. And the worst part? He was right there. Walking around like he didn’t just haunt my unconscious like the sin-wrapped devil he was.

He glanced over his shoulder at me while buttoning up the last few buttons of his shirt, like he could feel the storm raging inside me. His smirk curved up slowly — cocky and knowing.

"I take it you slept well?" he drawled.

I glared at him. "You’re an asshole."

He had the audacity to chuckle. "Guilty."

I threw the covers off me like they’d personally betrayed me, bolted upright, and stormed toward the bathroom. My body was burning, screaming for some kind of release or relief, and I knew the only way I was getting that was with water.

Cold, icy water.

I felt his eyes on me like a caress as I scrambled out of bed, desperate for the coldest shower the pack’s plumbing system could provide. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me undone—especially not because of a dream.

But before I could storm off to the bathroom, his voice followed, smooth and cocky as ever.

"Need help in there, little mate?" he drawled, his voice still husky from sleep—or from holding himself back.

"I don’t mind bathing twice if it means I get to see you all wet and slippery."

I stopped in my tracks, fists balled, my back to him.

That. Mother. Fucker.

"You’re not funny, Damon," I snapped, without turning around. "You’re a walking disaster in a pretty face."

He chuckled, deep and lazy, like he’d just made my morning. "That’s not a no."

"You come anywhere near that bathroom and I will personally drown you with the showerhead."

"That’s also not a no."

I didn’t even bother replying. I just grabbed my robe, muttered a string of colorful curses under my breath—some ancient, some invented

"I’m taking a shower," I snapped, already ripping my nightgown off over my head.

Damon leaned casually against the doorway, watching. "Want help?"

I froze mid-step. How the hell did he get there?

What the actual fuck.

He raised a brow. "I did say I don’t mind bathing twice."

I spun on him, practically hissing. "Don’t you have somewhere to be?"

"Not really," he said with a lazy shrug, the kind that made me want to slap him and mount him at the same time. "You looked like you needed help cooling off."

"Get out, Damon."

He grinned like I’d just flirted with him. "As you wish, little mate."

With a wink, he turned and left, whistling as he walked off like he hadn’t just left me soaked, on edge, and ready to scream into the nearest towel.

The second the door shut, I locked it, leaned against it for a second, and took a shaky breath.

"Goddamn it," I whispered to no one.

The shower was already running before I realized I’d moved. I cranked the temperature down to cold, but when I stepped under the spray, my skin burned hotter. Because the second the water hit me, so did the memory.

Of his hand.

Of his mouth.

Of his cock sliding right there.

The sound of his voice in my ear — "Brace yourself, little mate."

Fuck.

I pressed my palms to the wall, eyes shut tight. Water sluiced over my back, between my legs, down my thighs — but it did nothing to soothe the ache. Nothing to calm the fire licking at my core. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

I couldn’t take it anymore.

My fingers moved on their own, trailing slowly down my stomach, finding that sweet, pulsing heat between my thighs.

I bit my lip hard, moaned, and let my head fall back against the tile.

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