9: I haven't had Dessert

9

Briar's POV

Heat rushed to my face the moment the words left my mouth. I froze, then lifted my hand to cover it, as if I could shove the sentence back where it came from.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I couldn’t believe I’d said that to him. To Alpha Azrael. I dropped my gaze, suddenly very aware of how small I felt across from him.

For a heartbeat, the room stayed quiet.

Then he laughed.

A low sound that carried more amusement than offense, as if I’d entertained him rather than insulted him. That somehow made it worse.

“Say that again,” he said.

I looked up sharply. “I— I didn’t mean— I wasn’t—”

“So you didn’t just imply that I’m incapable as a man?” he asked, leaning back slightly in his chair.

My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress.

“That’s not what I— I mean, I didn’t—” The words tangled together. I could feel my pulse in my ears. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

His eyes stayed on me, dark and intent.

“But you did.”

I swallowed. “I was speaking out of turn.”

“That’s not an answer.” He tilted his head. “Confirm it. Or take it back properly.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The weight of his attention pressed down on me until my shoulders drew inward.

“I… I don’t know what I was thinking,” I finally managed to say.

His gaze sharpened with interest.

“Come here.”

My body moved before I could question him. The command slid through me, pulling me out of my chair and across the space between us.

Azrael reached out and caught my wrist, guiding me down onto his lap. The contact was immediate, and I stiffened, my breath hitching as I felt his erection straining through the layers of fabric.

My mind blanked at once, and shock rippled through me as the reality of his arousal registered.

I sucked in a breath, hands hovering uselessly at my sides, too afraid to touch him and too aware of every point where we met. His arm came around my waist, holding me there, like this was exactly where I belonged.

“Does that answer your question,” he asked quietly, “or do you still think you spoke the truth?”

I couldn't say a word.

Sitting there was uncomfortable in a way that had nothing to do with the chair and everything to do with him. My body was already reacting before I could reason with it, heat curling low in my stomach, my breath coming a little too shallow for my liking.

I hated that my senses felt overwhelmed by how close he was, by the solid warmth beneath me, and the way his presence seemed to take up all the air around us.

My palms were pressed lightly against my lap as I tried to anchor myself, trying to pretend this was normal, that I wasn’t unraveling inch by inch.

“Sit still and eat.”

I stiffened. “Like this?”

“Yes.”

I glanced down at the place setting in front of me, then back at him.

My fingers curled slightly against my lap. “You can’t be serious.”

He leaned back a fraction, enough that I felt the shift immediately.

“Pick up the fork, Briar.”

I hated how my body reacted before my pride could argue. My hand moved and reached for the cutlery. I could feel the heat of him everywhere, behind me, beneath me, like there was no safe way to exist in this space without being aware of it.

I lifted the fork, and my hand trembled despite my effort to steady it.

“Good,” he said, watching me rather than the plate. “Now eat.”

I hesitated for half a second longer, then picked up a piece of potato and brought the fork to my mouth. The taste barely registered. I was too conscious of where I was, of how close he was, of the fact that he hadn’t loosened his hold even once.

“There,” he added, almost approving. “It isn’t so difficult when you stop resisting everything.”

I swallowed and nodded, even though my throat felt tight.

Azrael picked up his fork like nothing was out of place, like I wasn’t perched on him with my nerves stretched thin.

He speared a piece of sausage, popping it into his mouth, chewing slowly while his eyes dipped to the neckline of my blouse.

From this angle, my cleavage was on full display, the soft swells of my breasts heaving with each shallow breath, nipples pebbling under the fabric from the cool air. Or maybe from him.

I squirmed again, and the movement caused my hip to slide along his thigh. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating through me, and his hand, holding me in place, brushed upward.

His knuckles grazed the side of my breast, a deliberate accident that made my nipple tighten painfully.

My pussy clenched at the contact, and I felt a trickle of wetness dampen my panties. The discomfort warred with the building heat, and his cock twitched against me, growing even harder. He ignored me, feeding himself another bite, then holding the fork to my lips.

“Open,” he commanded, and I did, cheeks burning as he fed me eggs.

The intimacy of it made my stomach flip. His hand 'accidentally' swept across my chest again as he reached for his coffee.

I arched involuntarily, my ass pressing back into his lap.

Breakfast dragged on like torture. Every time I tried to lean forward for my own plate, his arm tightened, keeping me pinned, forcing me to let him feed me bites.

My squirms only worsened it. Each movement ground my soaked folds against him, making the fabric of my panties grow slicker, sticking to my swollen lips.

I could feel his eyes devouring the view down my shirt, the flush spreading across my exposed skin, and his brushes turned bolder with his fingertips tracing the underside of my breasts.

By the time the plates were empty, my thighs trembled, and my pussy throbbed with need, drenched and aching. Juices had seeped through my panties, leaving a damp spot I prayed he couldn't feel. But the way his cock pulsed against me said otherwise.

Dinner? Wait, breakfast had stretched into this endless tease, but the hunger in his eyes was far from sated. I needed to escape.

I slid off his lap, or tried to, mumbling something about needing a shower. But his hand clamped on my wrist, yanking me back down with effortless strength.

“Not yet,” he growled, his voice thick with lust, eyes darkening as he glanced at the empty table.

“I haven't had dessert.”