Pregnant For The Alpha I Never Met

Choosing you

MILLIE'S POV

Braham watched as I undid each button, his eyes tracking every movement of my fingers. By the time I reached the last one, his breathing had gone ragged.

"Let me," he said, his voice barely above a growl.

He brushed my hands aside and parted the fabric slowly, like unwrapping something sacred. When my skin was exposed to him, he just looked at me for a long moment.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. "I thought I remembered, but this..." His fingers traced along my collarbone, feather-light. "You're even more perfect than I dreamed."

Heat flooded through me at his words, at the reverence in his touch.

"I need to see you too," I said, tugging at his shirt.

He pulled it off in one smooth motion, and I let myself look. Really look.

Four years ago, I'd been too nervous, too overwhelmed to fully appreciate him. But now…

Gosh.

He was all hard muscle and golden skin, and I wanted to trace every line with my tongue.

"Touch me," he said, as if reading my mind.

I did.

I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under my palms. Down his abs, feeling them contract under my touch. Lower, until my fingers brushed the waistband of his jeans, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Millie," he warned.

"Please."

He made quick work of the rest of our clothes until we were both bare, and the feeling of skin against skin made us both shudder.

"I've thought about this," he admitted, his hand sliding up my thigh. "Every night for four years, I thought about having you like this again."

"What did you think about?" The question came out breathless as his fingers traced higher.

"Everything." His mouth found the curve of my neck. "Tasting you. Touching you. Making you c*m so many times you forget your own name."

His fingers slipped between my legs, and I gasped.

"You're already so wet for me." His thumb found my c**t, circling slowly…he dipped his finger inside me.

The unexpected sensation shook me to the core that I gasped before knowing it.

"Did you think about this too? About me touching you like this?"

"Yes," I admitted, too far gone to be embarrassed. "God, yes."

"Tell me." He added another finger, and I arched into his touch. "Tell me what you thought about."

"Your hands," I gasped. "Your mouth. The way you made me feel that night. Like I was the only thing that mattered."

"You are." He increased the pressure, and pleasure sparked through me. "You're the only thing that's ever mattered."

I was already close, wound so tight from everything… the confession, the kiss, the four years of wanting and denying.

"Braham, I'm going to…"

"Come for me," he commanded. "Let me watch you fall apart."

I did, crying out as the orgasm crashed through me. But he didn't stop, didn't give me time to recover. His fingers kept moving, drawing it out until I was trembling and oversensitive and desperate for more.

"I need you," I moaned. "Please, I need…"

"I know what you need."

He settled between my thighs, and I felt him there, hard and ready. But he didn't push inside. Instead, he paused, looking down at me with an intensity that stole my breath.

"I love you," he said again.

And then he filled me in one slow, devastating thrust.

We both froze, adjusting to the feeling of being joined again after so long.

"Okay?" he asked through gritted teeth, his arms trembling with the effort of holding still.

"More than okay." I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Move. Please move."

He did.

Slow at first, each thrust deliberate and deep, like he was trying to memorize every sound I made, every way my body responded to his.

But slow wasn't enough. Not after four years. Not after everything.

"Har…der," I heard myself cry. "I need…"

He didn't make me finish the sentence. His pace increased, his hips driving into mine with a force that made the headboard hit the wall. One of his hands gripped my hip while the other slid under my back, arching me up to meet him.

"Yes," I moaned. "Just like that. Don't stop."

"Never." The word came out savage. "I'm never stopping. Never letting you go again."

He shifted the angle slightly, raised my left leg and suddenly he was hitting that spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"Oh gosh," I cried out. "Right there. Please, right there…"

"I've got you." His thumb found my c**t again, and the dual sensation was too much. "Come on my c**k, Millie. Let me feel you."

The orgasm hit me like lightning, and I screamed his name as I shattered. He followed seconds later with a roar, his hips stuttering as he poured himself into me.

But even as we both trembled with the aftershocks, he wasn't done.

He rolled us over so I was on top, still buried inside me.

"Again," he said, his hands guiding my hips. "I want you again."

"Braham…"

"Please." His eyes were wild, desperate. "I need to feel you come around me again. Need to know this is real."

How could I deny him when I wanted the same thing?

I started to move, slowly at first, adjusting to the new angle. He filled me so completely like this, so deep I could barely breathe.

"That's it," he encouraged, his hands spanning my waist. "Take what you need. Use me."

I rode him slowly, savoring every sensation. The stretch, the fullness, the way he looked at me like I was everything.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said, his voice rough. "Taking me so perfectly. Like you were made for me."

His words sent heat flooding through me, and I moved faster, chasing that high again.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "I want to watch you make yourself come."

My hand slid between us, and his eyes tracked the movement like he was starving for it.

"Yes," he groaned. "Just like that. f**k, Millie, you're so perfect."

The combination of my fingers on my c**t and him inside me was overwhelming. I could feel another orgasm building, bigger than the last.

"I'm close," I gasped.

"Me too." His grip on my hips tightened. "Come with me. I want to feel you fall apart at the same time."

He thrust up into me once, twice, and I exploded. This time, we came together, his name torn from my throat as he groaned mine.

I collapsed against his chest, both of us slick with sweat and trembling. His arms came around me immediately, holding me close.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. We just lay there, hearts racing, trying to catch our breath.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Stay."

It wasn't a question or a command. It was a plea.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered against his skin.

His arms tightened around me.

"Promise?"

I lifted my head to meet his eyes, and what I saw there took my breath away. Not just desire or satisfaction, but something deeper. Something that looked a lot like hope.

"I promise," I said. "I'm not running anymore."

"Why?" His hand came up to cup my face. "What changed?"

I thought about it for a moment. Thought about the four years of running, of hiding, of being too scared to want anything.

"You waited," I said simply. "You trusted me to find my way back. You loved me even when I couldn't love myself." I pressed my forehead to his. "How could I run from that?"

"You could still run," he said quietly. "I'd understand if you did. This is a lot, and I know I'm asking for everything…"

"Then I'll give you everything." The words came out stronger than I expected. "I'm not ready to say it yet. The words you want to hear. But I'm choosing this. Choosing you. Choosing us."

"That's enough." He kissed me softly. "That's more than enough."

I settled back against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

For the first time in forever, I felt safe.

And for the first time in my life, I felt chosen.

Not because of my name or my family or what I could give someone.

But because of me.

Just me.

"Millie?" Braham's voice rumbled through his chest.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for coming home."

I smiled against his skin.

"Thank you for waiting."