November Heat

4

She let out a choked sob—damn hormones were getting worse every month. Soon she’d have to take a full week off before her period or she’d end up f*****g someone right on the tatami after beating them half unconscious. It had been more than a year since she’d had real s*x, and every attempt to find a new partner—or even help herself—had gone spectacularly wrong. Kate felt like she’d become too hardened, too sharp-edged to hold a normal conversation with a man.

And now look at her: spreading her thighs wider on instinct, arching her ass up into the air, writhing beneath a stranger—a firefighter—who had kidnapped her with the help of a cop, dragged her to his place, and called her an omega.

Kate let out a nervous little giggle that melted instantly into a moan. The commander of the fire crew, Ben Armstrong, damn well knew what he was doing with a woman’s body. His fingers worked between her slick folds—Christ, how slick—with rough, fast strokes. It bordered on pain, but it was exactly the kind of sharp-edged pressure her body needed for a quick release. And when he slid his hand under her, grabbed her breast hard, Kate cursed filthily and clamped his hand tighter between her thighs—just a little more, she was so close—

“You’re so strong, Kate. You’re incredible. Come for me, sweetheart—please,” Ben rasped.

Kate went rigid in his arms like a bowstring, eyes flying wide open as a torn curse ripped out of her, sounding more like a moan than a word. Her toes curled, a violent spasm shot through her legs, and it felt like someone had thrown pepper into the air—heat stung her throat, her eyes flooded, her whole body seized—

And then she collapsed.

Kate sprawled on the floor, already half-hating herself for what she was about to do next. Almost hating, because there was still the faintest chance that Ben would pull some nasty s**t, enough to jolt her brain back up into her skull from where it had sunk between her legs—and then she could pound him into the floor like she should have from the start.

But for now there was only the hot, wet throbbing between her legs and a strange, heavy apathy. A floating helplessness about whatever came next. And a weight low in her belly—like someone had tied a stone inside her navel and was slowly pulling it downward. Not sharply, not painfully—yet—but definitely, undeniably there.

Kate knew what would help. And it was right within reach.

Actually—no. It was pressed right against her lower back at that very moment, because Ben had rolled both of them onto their sides.

He gently pulled her sweatpants back into place. One hand came to rest warm and firm on her stomach; with the other, he drew her closer.

“Good girl,” he murmured against her ear.

And that was the moment Kate made up her mind.

She shrugged off his hands and pushed herself up onto trembling knees, refusing to look at him. She spread her legs, leaned forward, and pressed her forehead to her folded hands on the floor.

“Do whatever you dragged me here for,” she muttered into her palms.

“…Sorry, what?” Judging by his tone, he’d pushed up on one elbow. Kate cracked open one eye and shot him a murderous glare.

Ben looked confused—and goddamn pleased with himself. Kate nearly growled at the realization: she’d folded for a pair of pretty eyes and a thick c**k.

“Put out my fire,” she said, dripping sarcasm. “Just—keep your damn hose covered.”

She felt a petty wave of satisfaction when his cheeks flushed red. She squeezed her eyes shut, buried her face in her hands. Whatever happens, happens.

Large, surprisingly hot hands gripped her ass, yanked her pants down. Kate jerked as Ben’s thumbs parted her cheeks. She tensed, biting her lip. Her last boyfriend had been… underwhelming. She could barely feel him inside her. And he’d even had the nerve to accuse her of being “loose,” like she had a goddamn whistle in her pelvis after using a vibrator to lose her virginity.

Instead of the rough, immediate thrust she expected, something hot and wet touched her—

A tongue.

Ben was licking her from behind—slow, deliberate strokes, teasing the tip of his tongue over her c**t, then pushing that long, wet tongue deep inside her, as if he meant to f**k her with it. His mouth sealed over her—greedy, shameless, hungry. Did he not find this disgusting? How the hell could a self-proclaimed alpha chauvinist—

Her thoughts dissolved.

Pleasure swallowed her whole.

Ben was sucking her, licking her, f*****g her with his tongue. His fingers were working her swollen c**t again. He broke away just once—only to tell her how good she tasted.

Tasted.

Like she was some delectable treat and not a sweaty, dripping mess.

Kate barely had time to curse before he shifted. He twisted under her, sliding beneath her indecently spread thighs, rolled onto his back—

And pulled her onto his face.

She came instantly. Just the feeling of him beneath her, willingly smothered between her thighs, was enough to snap her apart like brittle glass.

But Ben didn’t stop.

Nearly suffocating, blindly devoted, he kept carrying her through the climax—thrusting his tongue into her, gripping her ass hard, sucking her c**t like she was a guy.

The third orgasm blasted her clean out of her own body. She barely registered the moment when Ben was no longer under her but lifting her into his arms, carrying her from the hallway toward the bedroom.

It felt so good she wanted to cry.

She buried her face in his neck—right where she’d bitten him—and inhaled deeply. His unique scent mixed with the metallic tang of blood. Kate frowned without opening her eyes, and then it hit her: he still hadn’t washed the blood off.

And then she did the strangest thing she’d ever done in her life—

She licked his neck.

She had no idea why. Maybe to get rid of the distracting smell. Maybe because she actually felt a sliver of guilt. Whatever the reason, a shudder ran through Ben’s entire body in response.

He hugged her tighter—so tight Kate actually whimpered.

Some f*****g maniac was treating her more gently than anyone ever had in her entire goddamn life.

And suddenly, with her whole soul, she wanted him to be exactly that—a maniac.

She prayed that wherever he was carrying her, she’d find a dungeon filled with whips and restraints and pumpkin-sized butt plugs, because she was never—never—going to let anyone beat or humiliate her, not even him.

If he was an unhinged pervert, fine. Perfect. Great.

She could fight him off, escape, forget all this ever happened…

Kate sobbed quietly.

Because that was the only way she’d be able to put herself back together after… all of this.

Let him be…