Find Me Alastar

God, I’m so hot for this.

“You look so fucking perfect there on your knees,” he whispers darkly.

I can do nothing but look up at him and as he looks down at me something changes between us. The

tectonic plates move and I feel my world crash to a halt. He stops, frozen as if he feels it, too. His haunted

eyes stare down at me and I frown. His fingertips gently cup my face. “Emmaline,” he whispers.

What is this and how have I ever lived without it?

He sits down on the bench seat and pulls me over him. “Kiss me.”

I straddle over his legs and bend and kiss him, but instead of being the animalistic kiss I am expecting,Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

it’s tender. It’s intimate.

“Ride me, my love,” he whispers.

I kneel on either side of him and he directs his shaft to my opening, he slides it back and forth through

my dripping flesh and we both groan out in pleasure. This is going to be so good.

He grabs my hips and positions me over him. Fear overwhelms me.

“It’s been a long time. Please be careful with me,” I whisper.

His lips take mine and he pulls me onto him, swaying me from side to side to try and work his way in.

My mouth hangs open.

“Kiss me,” he whispers in desperation.

I kiss him as his body pushes into mine, but he’s so big he can’t even get in.

“Relax, Em,” he whispers against my lips. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

And just the sound of him gently whispering my name is all it takes for my body to open up and let him

slide deep into his home.

We stay frozen. I’m shocked at the size and intensity of this god, but I think he is holding off from

orgasming. My head is starting to spin and I know it’s the alcohol, but damn, this is the best drinking

session of all time.

I gently lift myself up and feel the intensity of his possession. “You okay?” he whispers against my

cheek.

“Yes,” I breathe.

I lift again and he grabs my hips for support before he slowly starts to lift me up and down.

He’s so big, and the burn that’s coming from between my legs is damn near electric.

“You okay?” he asks again in a breath.

I nod and regain my own ability to speak. This sex is ridiculous. It’s all consuming. How does a girl

ever recover from sex like this?

“Go,” I breathe. “Fuck me.”

He groans in pleasure and picks me up without hesitation, slamming me back down and forcing my

mouth open as his dark eyes are fix on mine. He lifts me up and down as I take everything he has to offer,

the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room.

“Ah, fuck, yeah,” he yells as he loses control.

He grabs my legs and lifts my knees higher to push himself deeper and I start to turn to jelly.

“Come,” he orders as he loses control.

“No,” I cry. “I don’t want this to end.”

He kisses me and closes his eyes. “We will never end, Em,” he whispers into my open mouth.

He lurches forward as he comes in a rush and I follow immediately, an intense orgasm utterly ruining

me for any man.

We scramble for air then we kiss gently, tenderly and my eyes peel open as I drop my head to his

shoulder.

We don’t speak. What is there to say when something is already perfect?

Alastar’s phone wakes me as an alert comes through, and he shuffles around in the dark to find it on the

side table. I sit up, turn the lamp on, and glance at the clock. It’s 4am and he grabs his phone and reads his

message. I am exhausted. We have only been asleep for an hour or so. We’ve been making love for hours,

and I am so, so sore. He sits on the side of the bed in silence as I watch him quietly.

He stands with renewed purpose.

“I have to go.”

My face drops. “Where are you going?” I ask.

“Home.”

“Who texted you?”

“Nobody,” he replies as he stands and walks around to retrieve his clothes.

That’s a lie. Somebody freaking text him.

“Are you married?” I ask.

“No!” he snaps, clearly annoyed at my question. He disappears to the kitchen to retrieve his clothes

that are strewn across the apartment.

“Engaged? Girlfriend?”

“No, I am just going home.”

I glare at him. Lying son of a bitch. You don’t get a text from someone in the middle of the night and

then have to rush home.

He rips his shirt around his shoulders, annoyed with my accusations.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he barks.

“Like what?” I sneer.

“Like you’re disappointed with me.”