Ezra rumbles his approval into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me like a tuning fork struck on stone. His hands move to my hair, pulling the blond wig askew, knocking the fake glasses from my face. Then they drop to my throat, thumb settling over my racing pulse. At my waist, his fingers dance down my ribs, then drop to my waist to dig into my flesh hard enough to leave marks.
We become a tangle of desperate hands, each grasping and pulling at fabric with frantic urgency.
The buttons of my server’s jacket give way beneath his impatient fingers, pinging across the hardwood floor. I push his unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders, revealing more ofthe intricate artwork decorating his skin. The strange blend of familiar and unfamiliar, his body both known and unknown, sends a rush of dizzying want through me.
My uniform pants join the growing pile of discarded clothing, and I stand before him in nothing but my underwear and the ridiculous blond wig, now hanging crooked from one side of my head.
Ezra devours me with a look that leaves heat in its wake. “You’ve lost weight.”
The hint of accusation fills me with the need to apologize. I didn’t take care of myself when I left him. Didn’t protect his precious Knox.
But before I can respond, his hands circle my waist and lift me as if I weigh nothing. Three long strides carry us past the haunting painting to the antique mahogany desk that dominates the room. He sweeps papers and books aside with one arm, clearing a space before setting me down on the cool, polished surface.
Cold wood meets my bare thighs in a sharp contrast to the burning heat of Ezra’s hands as they roam my body. He grips me under the knees and spreads my legs to stand between them. I should feel exposed, but instead, the naked hunger that darkens his features fills me with a thrum of power.
His fingers hook in my boxers, dragging the last shred of covering from my body to leave me bare, my dick hard and leaking where it hugs my stomach, and slick coats my ass.
“I dreamed of this.” He pushes me back to lie on the desk and draws my hips to the edge. “Having you spread out before me again. Watching you come apart in my hands.”
His fingers trace patterns on my inner thighs, moving higher with taunting slowness. I bite my lip to keep from begging, unwilling to surrender the last shred of my dignity. But Ezraknows my body too well and remembers how to touch me to elicit the responses he wants.
When his fingers finally push inside me, the contact wrenches a broken moan from my throat. One finger becomes two, stretching me open with deliberate patience that borders on cruelty. It gives me all the time in the world to say no, to push him away.
Instead, my head falls back, my lashes sweeping down as I sink into sensation, and slick flows faster from my body, readying for my Alpha.
“Look at me.” Ezra’s free hand cups my jaw. “I want to see your face when I take you apart.”
Unable to deny him, my heavy lids lift to find him staring down at me.
“My beautiful Omega.” His fingers curl inside me, finding the sweet spot that rips a moan of pleasure from my lips.
He grips my hard dick with his other hand, squeezing just shy of pain, and the dual stimulation tears another moan from me, my hips starting to move on their own.
“Please.” Shame floods through me at how fast he reduced me to begging. “Please, Ezra.”
The sound of his name breaks his control. He withdraws his fingers, and I sob at the loss before he positions himself at my entrance. Then he pushes inside me in one long, relentless thrust that steals the air from my lungs.
The fullness, the stretch, the perfect pressure is overwhelming after so long without him. My body remembers this dance and opens for him despite the burn of the initial intrusion. He lays claim to me, possesses me, marking territory I never meant to be his, but that he seized, regardless.
“Mine.” The word punches out of him as he begins to move. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
Each thrust pushes me further across the polished surface of the desk, the force of his possession brooking no resistance. My fingers scrabble for purchase on the slick wood, finding nothing to anchor me as he takes me apart piece by piece.
Pleasure rolls through me in waves, inescapable and oh so perfect.
To my horror, tears well up then spill over to trace hot paths down my temples and into my hair. I cover my face with my arms, unable to bear the vulnerability of being seen like this, broken open, wanting, desperate for the Alpha I tried to walk away from.
But Ezra won’t allow this small mercy. He catches my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head as he continues his relentless pace.
“Don’t hide from me.” His free hand brushes away a tear clinging to my lashes. “I love it when you’re so full of me that it overflows.”
The words break through the last of my reserve, and a sob tears from my throat. I cry in earnest now, tears flowing as my body shakes with the force of his thrusts and the weight of emotions I kept buried for too long.
Ezra leans down, his tongue hot on my cheek as he licks away my tears. The intimacy of the gesture, the animal possession it represents, sends another shudder through me. Then his mouth captures mine, feeding me the salt of my tears mingled with the chemical remnants of my makeup, my disguise literally dissolving between us.
This is what made Ezra so dangerous from the beginning. Not his wealth or his family’s power, but his uncanny ability to strip away my masks, to find the raw, uncertain person beneath the layers of deception. In his hands, I forget who I’m supposed to be, forget the careful construction of personas that have kept me safe for fifteen years.
When he touches me like this, I forget where the lie ends and the truth begins.
