Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Sinclair

Ella is as stiff as a board in my arms, frozen in shock to find my lips suddenly on hers, cutting off her bitter tirade. Of course, that only lasts a moment. As soon as the stubborn creature realizes what I’m about, she begins pushing at my shoulders, becoming increasingly agitated when they won’t budge. She squirms and struggles, clearly outraged that I kissed her when she was trying to be angry with me. I can practically hear her objections in my mind you’re not playing fair! She would say, shooting daggers with her eyes.

Damn straight I would answer, my thoughts conjuring the conversation our bodies are already having.

I rumble softly, and Ella whines – it’s a sweet, plaintive sound as her body tries to resist the pull of desire, but I ruthlessly gobble it up. I show her no mercy, caressing her lithe body and devouring her soft murmurs of protest until she melts against me, slanting her mouth beneath mine in total surrender. She whimpers when she finally gives in, as if she doesn’t know why she even bothered trying to fight this.

I can taste Ella’s blood from the cut on her lip, and my inner wolf groans with pleasure. Unlike our horror film counterparts the vampire, shifters don’t have any interest in consuming blood. But it’s inevitable to taste the blood of one’s mate when delivering a claiming mark, and the flavor has an undeniably Pavlovian effect. I may not want the crimson liquid for nourishment, but I certainly crave the taste of Ella’s. It’s rich and sweet, and instantly has me thinking about how other parts of her must taste.

Ella’s salty tears drip onto my questing lips, but though she cries, she also clings to me with all her might. Her arms have locked around my neck, and she’s pressing her soft curves against me with an urgency I understand all too well. My tongue slips past her lips as I rearrange her in my arms, guiding her to straddle my lap so that I can feel her plump breasts and beaded nipples against my chest. So that I can slide my hands down to the curve of her bottom and press my hardness into her soft center, to help her move against me and find pleasure – even through the fabric of our clothes.

Ella responds to me so naturally, so passionately. I barely need to apply any pressure to affect her movement. It’s as if she’s reading my mind, our bodies speaking the same love language, completely in tune with one another. Her fingers slide into my hair, closing around the dark locks as if she’s afraid she needs to hold me in place, lest I take my mouth away. I hold her more tightly, letting her feel my strength and purring when a little thump against my abdomen tells me that the baby is awake and thriving.

I could kiss her for a thousand years and never get bored, I realize. Never get tired of her taste, or grow immune to the feel of her beautiful body in my arms. Never want for another.

have to claim her. She’s strong enough to

her human form is next to my own. It’s enough to make me stop handling her so roughly, suddenly

take it –

in apology, sliding my hand in her long, silky hair and clenching it into a fist, holding her head steady as I continue ravishing her. I steal kiss after kiss from her sweet lips, until they’re swollen and red for reasons that have nothing to do with her self-inflicted bite. Our breathing is ragged, and Ella’s heart is beating so loudly that I don’t have

I groan, dragging my mouth from hers to try and catch my breath. Instead I kiss my way over her jaw and nibble one delectable earlobe, eliciting a sultry moan that makes the

in exasperation. Our first time with Ella is not going to be frantic and rushed

and I realize she must have been startled by the movement – enough to break out of the haze of lust. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her pupils so dilated that her gold irises are a slender ring around the great black pools. Her skin is flushed bright pink, and her hair disheveled. It’s a nearly irresistible sight, one that makes me want to go back on my earlier decision not to claim her. No other man should ever be allowed to see my Ella in

right.” She announces, still trying to catch her

bosom to see if her breasts are as flushed as

be on the verge of tears again. “Stop looking at me

clarify, furrowing my brow with concern. “What is the point?”

I’m a rabbit your wolf wants to eat for dinner.” She exclaims. “And the point is that I’m done letting you jerk me around and toy with my

just not in the way she means. Again I know I should clear the air between us, but I’m afraid if I do she won’t confess her true emotions. This misunderstanding has provided me with leverage too valuable to ignore, and