THE ALPHA'S DEADLY ADDICTION

Chapter 5: Unraveling

Angel’s pov

His hands tightened on my hips, guiding my movements, and I was too far gone to care about professionalism or consequences or anything except the friction building between us.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice rough and encouraging. "Just like that, Angel."

I rolled my hips harder, chasing the pleasure coiling tight in my belly, and his breath hitched.

"God, you're so beautiful like this." His fingers dug into my flesh, not quite bruising but close. "I've thought about this, about having you like this, so many times."

The confession sent heat flooding through me, and I fisted my hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more contact, more friction, more everything.

"You smell so f*****g sweet," he groaned against my throat, his nose trailing along my pulse point. "Like vanilla and something else I can't place. It's driving me insane. I just want—" He inhaled deeply, and I felt him shudder beneath me. "I want all of you."

My movements became more frantic, less controlled. I was grinding down on him without rhythm now, just desperate and aching and so close to something I'd never let myself feel with a client before.

This wasn't performing. This wasn't work.

This was real.

"Jason–" His name came out broken, pleading.

"I know, baby. I know." His arms wrapped around me tighter, one hand sliding up to tangle in my hair. "You're doing so good for me. So perfect."

The praise hit me like a physical thing, sending sparks of pleasure down my spine. Something in my chest cracked open at his words—so good, so perfect—and I found myself chasing that feeling as much as the o****m building in my core.

"Please–" I gasped, not even sure what I was begging for.

"I've got you." His lips brushed my ear, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that made my thighs clench. "Just keep doing exactly what you're doing. Take what you need from me."

I yanked his hair hard enough to make him groan, and his hips bucked up in response, grinding against me in a way that made stars burst behind my eyelids.

"f**k—yes, just like that." His praise came out breathless now, strained. "You feel so good, Angel. So wet. I can feel how much you want this."

I should have been embarrassed. Should have hated how exposed I felt, how much he could read my body's responses.

Instead, it made me wetter.

"Tell me," I demanded, my nails digging into his shoulders through his expensive shirt. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to watch you come apart." His hand fisted tighter in my hair, tilting my head back so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. "I want to see your face when you let go. I want to know I'm the one who made you feel this good. f**k, that's all i want.”

The intensity in his gaze nearly undid me right there.

"You're so close, aren't you, baby?" His other hand slid down to grip my ass, controlling my movements, grinding me against him with deliberate pressure. "I can feel you trembling. Feel how tight you're wound."

"Mhmm" The word came out as a whimper.

"That's my good girl." His voice was pure sin. "Let go for me. Let me see you."

The praise combined with the friction was too much. The tension that had been building all day—all week—suddenly snapped.

My o****m hit me like a tidal wave.

I cried out, my entire body going rigid as pleasure crashed through me in waves. My hips stuttered against him, grinding down as aftershocks rolled through my system, and through it all, his arms held me tight against his chest.

"That's it. That's my perfect girl," he murmured against my hair, his voice thick with satisfaction. "So beautiful. So f*****g perfect."

I collapsed against him, boneless and breathless, my face buried in the crook of his neck. My entire body was trembling, oversensitive and sated in a way I'd never experienced before.

I could feel him still hard beneath me. He hadn't come, hadn't even tried to. But when I moved to do something about it, his hands stilled me.

"Don't," he said softly. "This was for you."

"But you didn't—"

"I don't need to." His hand came up to stroke my hair, gentle and reverent. "Watching you? Feeling you? That was enough."

I lifted my head to look at him, confused and still hazy from the o****m, and found him watching me with an expression that made my chest ache.

Satisfaction. Pride. Something dangerously close to tenderness.

He reached for something—a box of tissues on the side table I hadn't even noticed.

He cleaned me up with careful, gentle touches, his movements almost clinicall except for the way his eyes tracked over my body like he was memorizing every detail. When he was done, he pulled me back against his chest, one hand stroking through my hair while the other wrapped around my waist.

We sat like that for a moment, just breathing together, and I realized I'd never felt this before.

Safe. Cared for.

Cherished.

His eyes found mine again, and this time I couldn't look away. Didn't want to look away. Whether it was the afterglow of the o****m or the complete lack of willpower I had left, I was powerless against the intensity of his gaze.

He reached up slowly, his fingers finding the edge of my mask.

Instinctively, my hand shot up to stop him, catching his wrist.

"Let me," he said softly, the same words he'd used before, but this time they felt weighted with something more. A request. A plea.

My grip on his wrist loosened.

He moved slowly, giving me every opportunity to stop him, his fingers gentle as they found the clasp at the back of my head. The moment stretched between us, intimate and fragile, and I held my breath as—

The door slammed open.

I jerked away from Jason so violently I nearly fell off his lap, my hands flying to my mask to make sure it was still in place.

Sasha filled the doorway, his massive frame blocking out the light from the hallway. His face was carved from stone, his good eye blazing with a fury I'd only seen once before—the night someone had tried to steal from the register.

But it wasn't directed at me.

It was directed at Jason.

"Beauregard scum," Sasha spat, his accent thick with venom.

My blood went cold.

No. No no no—

"You dare come into my establishment?" Sasha took a step forward, and I saw Viktor and two other enforcers behind him in the hallway. "You dare touch one of my girls on Konstantins territory?"

Jason's entire demeanor changed in an instant. The gentle man who'd just held me so carefully vanished, replaced by something sharp and dangerous. He stood smoothly, setting me aside with surprising gentleness given the tension radiating off him.

"I paid for a private session," Jason said, his voice cold and level. "I wasn't aware there were restrictions on clientele."

"Do not play stupid with me, boy." Sasha's hand went to his waist, and I saw the glint of metal there. A gun. A special one, just for Jason’s kind. "You know exactly what you have done by coming here."

I found my voice finally, scrambling to my feet. "Sasha, please—"

"Silence, Angel." His eye never left Jason. "This does not concern you."

"The hell it doesn't—"

"I said silence." The command in his voice made me flinch.

Jason shifted slightly, positioning himself between me and Sasha, and the protective gesture made my heart clench.

"I'll leave," Jason said calmly, too calmly. "No need for this to escalate."

"Oh, it is already escalated." Sasha's smile was cold. "The moment you walked through those doors, you started war."

"I came for a dance, not to cause trouble."

"You came to enemy territory and put your hands on our property." Sasha's gaze flicked to me for just a second, and something in his expression made my stomach drop. "That is trouble."

Viktor stepped forward. "Boss, the Konstantins will want to know about this."

"Da. They will." Sasha's attention returned to Jason. "And they will not be pleased that Beauregard heir thinks he can waltz into Scarlet Mile like he owns it."

The tension in the room was suffocating. I could see Jason's jaw tighten, could see him calculating odds and exits, and I realized with sudden, horrible clarity that this could turn violent very quickly.

"It was my fault," I blurted out. "I didn't know who he was. If I'd known—"

"You think I am fool, devochka?" Sasha's eye finally landed on me, and the disappointment there cut deeper than anger would have. "You think I do not see what happened here? You break rules for him. You let him touch you. You—" He gestured at my disheveled appearance, and heat flooded my face. "You forget yourself."

Shame burned through me, sharp and acidic.

"She didn't do anything wrong," Jason said, his voice hardening. "If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at me."

"Oh, I am very angry at you, Beauregard." Sasha took another step forward. "But you will leave now, before I do something we both regret. And you will not come back. Ever."

"Sasha—" I tried again.

"Enough." His voice cracked like a whip. "Go to dressing room. Now."

"But—"

"Now, Angel!"

I flinched at the volume, and Jason's hand twitched like he wanted to reach for me but thought better of it.

"Go," he said quietly, his eyes still on Sasha. "I'll handle this."

"You can't just—"

"Angel." His eyes met mine for just a second, and I saw the plea there. "Please."

My throat tight, I nodded and moved toward the door.

Viktor and the other enforcers parted to let me through, their expressions unreadable. As I passed Sasha, he caught my arm.

"We will talk about this later," he said, low enough that only I could hear. "And it will not be pleasant conversation."

Then he released me, and I fled down the hallway, my heart hammering and my mind racing.

Behind me, I heard Sasha's voice rise again, heard Jason's calm responses, heard the sound of more people gathering.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that everything had just changed.

That whatever had started between Jason and me tonight wasn't just dangerous.

It was catastrophic.