Help Me

Lilith's POV

The kiss was brutal. Hungry.

His tongue forced past my lips, claiming my mouth like territory. I whimpered, shoving at his chest, but his arm locked around my waist—an unbreakable cage.

His other hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back. No escape.

Then I felt it.

Something hard pressed against my stomach.

My eyes flew wide, body freezing.

Kieran chuckled darkly, his palm sliding down to grip my ass, grinding me against him.

That thick length cock rubbed against me through our clothes, burning.

"N-no—" My voice vanished, legs trembling.

"No?" His tone was deceptively soft, but his eyes—fuck, those eyes—were pure dominance.

I looked down, throat tight.

Alpha Kieran Blackthorn. Heir. Predator. The pack respected him more than his own father.

Mom's warning echoed: Don't anger them.

Silence was my only shield.

He took it as surrender.

In one motion, he hauled me up, my thighs straddling his hips as his mouth crashed into mine again. "Hold on," he growled against my lips, breath ragged.

I clutched his neck, helpless as he carried me to his bedroom and tossed me onto the mattress.

The clink of his belt unfastening made my pulse spike. Then his zipper. Then—

Oh god.

Even in the dim light, his cock was obscene—thick, veined, the head glistening with precum. My stomach flipped.

"I Promise," his voice scraped raw, "I won't fuck you. Not until your wolf wakes."

His fingers trailed up my inner thigh, hooking under the lace of my panties.

"But you'll help me before that."

A tear slipped free as he stripped me bare, his gaze devouring every inch. His body pinned me down, muscles taut, skin scorching.

I squeezed my thighs together—useless. His knee wedged between them, forcing me open. Then his grip tightened, yanking my legs shut again—

Wait—

The first thrust between my thighs punched a gasp from my lungs.

I looked.

Big mistake.

His cock, flushed and massive, pistoned through the tight clasp of my legs. The swollen head peeked out with every stroke, glistening, filthy.

I snapped my eyes shut, but that only heightened everything else—

The heat of him.

The wet slap of skin. The way my body betrayed me, slick gathering where I shouldn't be wet, a traitorous throb building—

Shame. Shame. Shame.

My thighs clenched instinctively.

Kieran groaned, hips stuttering. "Fuck—so tight, baby."

His mouth sealed over mine, swallowing my whimpers as his pace turned brutal. Lips trailed to my ear, teeth grazing the shell. "Gonna come just like this. On your pretty thighs."

I was drowning. Burning.

The room filled with his growls, my broken moans, the slap-slap-slap of flesh.

He came twice before finally stopping.

Carried me to the shower.

Just as the water soothed my shaking limbs, his hands found my breasts, kneading. His cock, already hard again, pressed into my back.

"One more," he murmured, biting my earlobe.

I was too wrecked to fight.

***

When I woke up, it was already 11 AM.

I blinked at the ceiling.

I never slept this late.

At this hour, Kieran should've been long gone—off at the office, where I wouldn't have to face him.

The thought loosened the knot in my chest. I washed up quickly, my steps light as I headed downstairs.

Then I turned the corner—and froze.

Kieran was there.

Lounging on the living room sofa, his suit jacket tossed carelessly over the armrest, fingers swiping across a tablet screen. His broad shoulders blocked part of the morning light, his posture relaxed yet impossibly commanding.

My pulse spiked.

Okay. Breathe.

Yesterday had been a moment of weakness. Nothing actually happened. If I just acted normal—

"Morning," I forced out, voice steady.

He turned, those sharp eyes locking onto me. A slow smile curved his lips. "Morning."

I ducked my head and bolted for the dining room.

The staff served breakfast silently. I kept my gaze on my plate, chewing mechanically, praying he wouldn't—

A chair scraped back.

Kieran took his seat at the head of the table, two spaces between us. Yet the distance didn't matter. My skin prickled the second he sat down, every nerve screaming danger.

But he didn't even glance my way.

Not once.

Like last night had never happened.

The tension in my shoulders eased. Maybe it had just been a dream—

——Until the next evening.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My pencil snapped between my fingers.

"Busy?" Kieran's voice through the door—deep, calm, inevitable.

I swallowed hard. Opened it just enough to peer out, my grip white-knuckled on the handle.

"Homework," I said.

"Homework." He repeated it like a private joke, his gaze dragging from my death-grip on the door to my face. His eyes darkened.

No scent. No obvious threat.

But the way he looked at me—like he was deciding how to devour me—made my breath hitch.

Then his hand closed over my wrist.

Fire shot up my arm. I flinched back, but he didn't let go. His thumb stroked my cheekbone, rough and deliberate.

"Bring your books," he murmured. "You'll study in my room tonight."

I stared at him, my refusal clear.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine—lightning in my veins—before pulling back just enough to whisper, "Or should I just stay here instead?"

My hands shook.

In the end, I looked down.

And for the second time, I let him win.