Chapter 382: Making The Alpha Surrender (III)
Evaline:
River kissed me like he was breathing for the first time in forever... like he had been starved of air, of warmth, of everything that had once grounded him, and I was the only thing in the world that could fill the void.
The moment his lips pressed against mine, the world fell away. My heart raced, my pulse hammered in my throat, and the faint walls I had built over hours of frustration and pride crumbled like brittle glass.
Every stroke of his tongue, every press of his lips against mine, demanded surrender. It was not a gentle kiss. It was insistent, possessive, overwhelming, and I felt my body betray my stubborn mind.
All the control I had built up - the careful walls of pride, of reason, of fear - slipped from me like water through clenched fingers. My body yielded to him completely, almost instinctively, while my mind clung to the one thread of clarity I could muster... I still needed to be in control, if only in the smallest ways.
When he finally pulled back slightly, his chest was heaving, his eyes were dark with need and frustration. He tried to regain the control he had just lost. His hands lingered on my arms, still holding me close, as though tethering me to the world he wanted to command. I saw him searching my eyes, the question clear - Would I let him dominate me, or would I fight?
I didn’t let him pull away. My fingers curled into the collar of his suit, dragging him down toward me. "Don’t pull back," I whispered, my voice rough and low, almost trembling with the energy of the storm between us.
For a moment, his expression faltered. That fierce, alpha gaze softened ever so slightly, replaced with something rawer - hunger, desperation, vulnerability. And then, with a growl that shook the air between us, he lost the last of his restraint.
He kissed me again - harder, deeper, more desperate than before. Every motion of his lips, every tilt of his head, demanded surrender from me. Every brush of his hands against my skin sent shivers through my body, igniting a fire I had never thought possible. My breath hitched, my mind scattered, and for a fleeting moment, I forgot to think at all.
By the time he pulled back a second time, my pulse was a chaotic rhythm, pounding against my ribs as if it wanted to escape. He stood, deliberately, his every movement controlled, measured, predatory.
The world seemed to slow as I watched him peel off his suit, his tie, his shirt, each motion revealing the sharp, muscular planes of his body. His presence alone made my breath hitch - the raw power of him, the quiet authority, the energy that radiated from every movement, every step.
I felt a surge of something primal - awe, desire, fear, and an inexplicable trust all rolled into one. He was my mate, my protector, my storm and my calm, all at once. But even as I marveled at him, my mind reminded me of the balance of power. I had my own will, my own right to push back, to claim him in turn, to make him understand that I was not just his to control.
Before I could react further, his hands returned to me, sliding under my blouse and peeling it away in one fluid, graceful motion. My skin prickled where his hands brushed against me, but it wasn’t fear... it was electricity, a spark that ran along my nerves and settled deep inside my chest.
He lifted the tie he had just discarded and wrapped it gently, yet firmly, around my wrists, pinning them above my head against the pillows. The silk was soft, almost comforting, but there was an undeniable strength in the way he held me.
"River..." I whispered, the sound low, hesitant, but full of the fire I still had left.
His lips followed, not back to my mouth, but across my jaw, along the curve of my throat, across my collarbone. Each kiss was deliberate, slow, almost reverent, mapping my skin as if memorizing it, claiming it. I arched instinctively, a soft sound escaping me, betraying the tension that had been coiled tight inside my chest. His chuckle, low and rough, vibrated against my skin, and I felt it stir something deeper inside me - an urgent, burning need to respond, to fight, to surrender all at once.
"Still think you can punish me, little star?" he murmured against my neck, his voice ragged, dangerous.
I wanted to answer, to tell him that I could, that I wasn’t afraid, but my body had other ideas. I gasped, caught in the whirlwind of his presence, and instead of words, a shiver ran down my spine, a quiet surrender that wasn’t weakness but acknowledgment.
His hands slid along my sides, tracing my curves, learning every ridge, every dip. My pulse raced uncontrollably, my breathing shallow and ragged, every nerve ending alive with his touch. Each kiss, each brush of his lips, demanded my surrender, and I gave it - not meekly, but with intent, with the desire to make him understand that I could play this game too.
I let my hands move, dragging lightly against his shoulders, his chest, tangling in his hair, and when I pressed myself closer to him, guiding the rhythm of our bodies, he paused ever so slightly, his eyes meeting mine.
"You think you are in charge now?" he breathed, voice husky, teetering on the edge of surrender and demand.
I smiled against his mouth, a small, teasing curve of my lips that held all the fire I had left. "Maybe I am," I whispered, and the intensity of the room shifted. The fire between us flared hotter, brighter, uncontainable.
Before I could have celebrated that small victory, I felt hid fingers unbuttoning my jeans before he pulled it off my legs. And as I watched him, holding my breath, he shifted between my legs.
His fingers pulled the fabric of my panty aside right before he lowered his head.