Alpha’s Little Plaything
He fisted a hand in my hair, pulling my head back as his muscles tensed with each deep, hard stroke.
“Look at me, Loriah. Look at me when I fuck you. I want to see your eyes full of desire for me—for your Alpha, your mate!” he hissed, sweat glistening on his forehead, ragged breaths escaping his lips. Wetness flowed from my core, feeding off his raw possessiveness.
We lay tangled together on my bed after he’d had his fill of me. My phone rang, and I picked up immediately—it was Greg.
“Loriah, they’ve canceled your interview with The Late Show with Marvin Flint. And your Aria Nova commercial has been dropped. They’ve offered compensation for your troubles, but the contract’s been canceled.”