Beta, p.15
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       Beta, p.15

         Part #2 of Alpha series by Jasinda Wilder
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The city outside our tower was silent, forgotten. Muted.

  Stars, atoms, pain, orbits, politics, enemies…all faded into nothingness.

  There was only Kyrie. Only her mouth devouring mine, her hair cascading around my face, tickling my cheekbones and pooling on the pillow.

  I had to hold her. My hands hungered for her. I found her skin, feathered my touch across her spine, around her shoulders, down her waist and the ridges of her ribs padded by lush flesh. I curved my palm around her hip, caressed her ass and her thigh and her arm and her hand on my cheek, and the kiss stumbled and tripped and burst open into something beyond kissing, moving from starlight to nova, from incendiary explosion to atomic detonation.

  She was touching me as well, her needing fingers tracing my biceps and my chest and the arc of my hip and then descending to my legs, the hair on my thigh and the curled thatch of hair around my cock, and now her hand wrapped around me in a slow, hesitant caress. I gasped, breaking the kiss, my heart hammering at the feel of her hand on me.

  A stroke then, a sweet gentle downward sweep stoking the fires in my belly. The frenzy of my heartbeat becoming tympanic thunder, and her teeth pulled at my lower lip and her knee slid onto my thigh.

  This was a ferocious yet fragile thing between us.

  Kyrie’s hand left my cock, and her knee pressed into the mattress on the other side of my body, and the “V” of her spread thighs cradled my waist. She was above me, and I was panting and panicking, instantly weak and gasping and frantic, fists in the sheet and eyes squeezed shut.

  “—Breathe, Roth…breathe for me. Come on, baby. It’s okay. It’s me. It’s me. Look at me, baby. Look at me. Can you open your eyes?” I heard her voice, but all I could feel was the weight of Gina on me, all I could feel was the helplessness, shackled for her pleasure, at the mercy of a woman who had none.

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  Palms on my cheeks, thumbs beneath my eyes, wiping gently. Lips on my cheekbone, my jaw. “It’s me, Valentine. It’s Kyrie. Open your eyes and see me. Look at me. ”

  I heard her voice. I knew it was Kyrie. But the panic didn’t allow me to respond.

  I fought it.

  I am Valentine Roth, and I am in control.

  Shaking all over, trembling, gasping raggedly, I forced my eyes open. Saw through the waver of unsteady vision the perfect beauty of Kyrie St. Claire. Not Gina. The weight of her body on top of me was familiar, beautiful. Her hair was blonde and thick and still damp, hanging to one side. Her eyes were blue, deep cerulean, loving and concerned. This was Kyrie. My Kyrie. I made myself stare at her, drank in the beauty of her, soaked up the reality of her here with me. Let her presence sink in, let the truth of now replace the fear of what had been.

  I forced my fists to unclench from the sheets, and Kyrie took one of my hands in hers, threaded the fingers of her right hand through my left, the back of my hand against the pillow by my head, her weight resting on our joined hand. And then her left hand merged with my right, and she was leaning over me, hair a curtain blocking out the world.

  “You see me, baby?” Her voice was so small, tiny but insistent.

  “I see you. ”

  “You know me? It’s me. ”

  It was still hard to breathe. I couldn’t look away. Didn’t dare. The endless blue ocean of her gaze held me, and I willingly let myself drown into her.

  “Don’t look away from me. ” She drew her knees up, shins to the mattress, calves under her ass.

  “Never. ” I felt my rabbiting pulse turn to hammering thuds as she lifted her hips.

  She writhed on me, sliding her core over my hardening cock. She held my gaze, moving her body in a sinuous rhythm, bringing me to raging erection with the slow, wet slide of her pussy. I couldn’t breathe and didn’t need to, because she was kissing me and giving me her breath.

  “Ready, my love?” She stilled, hovering over me, the tip of my cock nestled between the lips of her pussy.

  “Yes…yes. ”

  “Look at me, baby. ” Her brows drew down, and her mouth hung open.

  “I am. ” I stared up at her, my hands tangled in hers, her breasts swaying so her nipples brushed my chest.

  “I love you,” she said.

  It was a frozen moment in time, the momentary pause before we joined, before our bodies merged, her eyes on mine, the sound of her voice echoing in my ears. And then, before I could respond, before I could summon the three syllables roiling within me, she impaled herself on me.

  Kyrie ducked her head and bowed her spine out, letting out a breathy moan and grinding her hips against mine, burying me deep, deep, deep inside her heavenly slick warmth.

  I let her move. I let her glide and stroke and moan and grind and slide. I held her hands and stared up into her blueblueblue eyes, and I didn’t dare even breathe. She shook, and fought for breath. She shuddered, hovering over me, my cock drawn almost out, her eyes boring and drilling into me, demanding that I see her, see her, feel her, feel the cracks between us filling, feel the broken linkage binding us together repairing.

  I saw.

  I felt.

  But I couldn’t move. Not like this. Not with her above me. It was a war within me. The wounded portion of my psyche refused to be buried, refused to be ignored, and this, weighted down by the woman I loved, this was not okay. I wasn’t over it, I wasn’t healed, and pretending wasn’t going to work.

  I was a man in control. Of myself, of my surroundings, of those whom I employed. Of my life, my emotions, my reactions. I didn’t allow anything into my life that would threaten my control. I refused. For ten years, I refused. And then I brought Kyrie to my home, brought her into my tower and let her into my life. That was the beginning of the end of my control. She had a way of worming under my control, wiggling into every crevice of my life, of my soul, of my mind, and taking over. My control, where Kyrie was concerned, was nonexistent.

  Being held hostage by Gina, having every scrap of control taken away from me, that had left a deeper scar than I cared to examine. Not just mentally or emotionally or sexually, but in every aspect of my life. Of my sense of self.

  I had to reclaim it, but I didn’t know how.

  Kyrie was a woman who should never be sad. Never feel pain. Never ache, or be lonely, or afraid. She was too beautiful, too perfect, too lively and strong and wonderful for such negativity. Life engendered pain. Living, if you did it properly, left you vulnerable to pain. I’d spent ten years not living. Alive but moving through life empty of vitality, full of purpose but devoid of that spark which makes life worth living. Kyrie had given me that, and I now saw her own spark guttering, darkening, wetted and tamped down.

  I couldn’t let that stand.

  I owed her more than that.

  I could foster the spark within her. Fan it into flames, and warm myself on its heat.

  Sometimes, I think, when you don’t know how to take another step for yourself, you have to focus on someone else, and take the step for them. Live for them. Be strong for them, even when you have so much within yourself in need of healing.

  Kyrie collapsed forward, buried her face in my neck, her hands trapped between our chests, her palm to my heartbeat, and she sobbed, her entire body convulsing as she climaxed. “Valentine…please…. ” She lost her voice then, choking and gasping. Her hips drove downward, and then she drew forward, hesitated, fluttered her hips ever so gently, and then pounded down, crying out into my neck. “God, oh god, oh god, Valentine—fuck, I need you. I need you. Baby, please, please, I need you. ”

  I slid my palms down her spine, closed my eyes, and drew a breath filled with the scent of her skin and the damp, clean odor of shampoo from her hair. I drew in the scent of Kyrie, filled my hands with the curves of her ass. I breathed her in, caressed her flesh, felt her shuddering above me, heard the plea, and felt the paralysis break.

  I lunged upward to a sitting position, Kyrie still impaled
on me, and I wrapped my arms around her neck, nipping at the tender hollow at the base of her throat, at the fragile sweep of her neck. Kyrie whimpered, clung to me, snaked her arms around my neck and crushed me closer as I pivoted us together and slid to the edge of the bed. She gasped in surprise when I stood, cupping my hands under her ass, supporting her perfect weight with my hands and with the tension of our joined bodies. Standing, her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms around me, her face buried in my throat, kissing, sucking, biting.

  I felt the clench of her pussy around me and reveled in the pulsing squeeze of climaxing muscles. I had to move. Had to fill, and retreat. Had to hold her as if to merge every inch of our bodies, every atom and molecule of our beings.

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  “Kyrie…. ” I ground my hips up against hers, and felt her begin to move with me, a juddering grind of her body down mine, meeting my upward thrust with a slow downward stroke of her own.

  “Valentine. God, yes. This. ”

  “I love you, Kyrie. I love you. ” Heat billowed within me, a surging tidal wave of fiery need spreading through me, setting me alight from toes to fingertips, scalp to soles, soul to mind to heart, all of me igniting as we found a mutual rhythm together. “You feel this? You feel how we fit together?”

  “Yes!” She gasped, sobbed, lifting her face from my neck and gazed up at me with wet eyes, red-rimmed eyes. Her hair was unbrushed and wet and tangled, her skin damp from the shower.

  She had never been more beautiful to me than in that moment.

  I cupped the pale flesh and muscle of her ass, lifted her up, and then slammed her down onto me as I thrust up with all the power in my body. She cried out wordlessly, hanging her head and grinding onto me.

  A glimmer of moonlight shone through the open doorway and reflected off the mirror in my closet. Kyrie rolled her hips against me as I strode across the bedroom and into the closet. She whimpered raggedly as I set her down and pulled out of her.

  “Wha—what are you—what are you doing?” she demanded. I grabbed her shoulders and turned her in place to face the three-way mirror. “Oh. ”

  “Look at yourself, Kyrie. Look how beautiful you are. Look at us together. Watch us,” I told her. “Don’t look away. ”

  I slid my hands over her breasts, cupping them, lifting them, kneading their fullness. I pinched her nipples with the thumb and forefinger of each hand, rolling her thick, sensitive pink buds until she gasped. I took one of her hands in mine and moved our joined fingers together down, down, between her thighs.

  “Let me see you touch yourself, darling. Let me see you put your fingers in your pussy,” I growled in her ear, sliding my middle finger and hers into her opening. “Let me see you get your fingers wet. ”

  Kyrie sucked in a sharp breath as our fingers slipped into her pussy, and I curled my digit inward, scraped high on her inner wall, finding that spot and guiding her touch.

  “Just like that, Kyrie. Keep touching yourself. Don’t stop. ” I withdrew my fingers and watched as she rubbed herself. “I want to watch you come, just like this. Come for me, Kyrie. Make yourself come. ”

  I pressed two fingers to her clit and massaged her in a slow, gentle circle, and felt her hips move, a slight flutter to match my circling touch. Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide, and I sped up, pausing every now and then to pinch her clit between my fingers, to flick it, rub it, and then move in ever-faster circles around it. Her free hand reached up to clutch at my head, her eyes not on mine in the mirror, but on our hands moving at her sex, at the way her hips began to grind and gyrate. Her tits began to sway and bounce as her motions became more and more frantic, her thighs trembling, her legs falling open wider.

  “Put two more fingers inside yourself, Kyrie,” I ordered, my lips moving against the shell of her ear. “Fuck yourself with your fingers, my love. Let me see you do that. ”

  “Oh, oh…ohhhhh, god, Valentine. ” She slipped her index and ring fingers into herself, her digits curled to rub against her G-spot. “I’m close, I’m so close. ”

  “Are you watching?” I demanded.

  “Yes…yes, I’m watching. ”

  Her knees began to dip as I swiped faster and faster around her clit and her three fingers fucked harder and harder inside herself, and her eyes began to flutter, her breath coming shallow and harsh.

  “I—I’m coming, Valentine, oh…Jesus, I’m coming—” She broke off, teeth clenched together, her entire body straining, and now she was screaming through gritted teeth as an orgasm tore through her.

  I bent at the knees then, pulled my fingers away from her clit and grabbed her hips, jerked her ass backward. She planted her palm on the mirror, her eyes flicking up to mine. Shaking all over, still tensing and moaning with the aftershocks, she leaned forward, opening herself for me. I gripped my cock in one hand and dragged it against her clit, pushing until she rocked forward with a groan.

  “In me…I need you in me, Valentine. ”

  “You need my cock, don’t you?”

  “I do, god, Valentine, I need it so bad. ”

  I pulled the tip of my dick between her slick labia and drove up into her tight, wet opening, growling as I felt her still-quaking inner walls squeeze immediately around me. Bare inside her, our eyes locked in the reflection of the mirror, I pushed deep inside her, until my stomach met the solid, round expanse of her ass.

  “Ohhhhh…yes, yes, baby, YES!” she gasped, her voice rising to a shout as I drew back and rammed back into her.

  “You like that, don’t you, Kyrie?” I gripped the crease of her hips in my hands as I glided my throbbing cock out so I nearly lost her heat, and then pulled her ass into my thrust, growling with pleasure when the generous mound of flesh jiggled.

  “I love it…fuck, I need it. ”

  “You need it, do you?” I pulled back again and thrust deep, hard.

  “YES! I need it so bad. ” She squeezed her eyes shut briefly as I set my favorite rhythm, pulling out slowly and fucking in hard and fast. “I need you…you, I need this…shit, oh god that feels so good—I need us. ”

  One hand flat against the mirror to prop herself up, bent nearly double, her tits swaying and bouncing with each slapping clash of our bodies, she opened her eyes as wide as they would go and kept her gaze locked on mine.

  “Touch yourself, Kyrie. Right now, while I’m fucking you, touch your clit. Make yourself come again. ”

  I watched as she slipped her other hand between her thighs and put two fingers to her clit, catching her lip between her teeth and immediately finding the rhythm she needed.

  And now, her fingers moving in synch with the rhythm of my driving hips, her brows lowered and her breath came faster and faster, and she started pushing back into me, slamming her ass into my thrusts, harder and harder. Her gaze flickered down and then to the side, watching us in profile in the side mirror. I looked in the opposing side mirror, and now we both watched, watched my thick, wet cock sliding out of her pussy and then burying into her body, watching her whole body rock forward with the power of my thrust, her tits swaying forward, my balls slapping against her taint.

  Her fingers moved in a blur then, and I felt her pussy clamp down, felt her body coil and tense as she prepared to come. As soon as I felt her begin to come, I slapped her ass hard, synching the crack of my hand on her flesh with driving, relentless fucking,

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  “OhmyfuckingGOD!” Kyrie cried out at the smack, arched her spine up, writhing as I drilled into her, giving in to my own rising urge to orgasm.

  “That’s not my name,” I growled.

  “Oh…oh my fucking Valentine?” It was part statement, part question, breathless as she came.

  “That’s better. ” I jerked her backward into my thrusts, our eyes meeting in the central mirror. “Is this what you wanted? Is it, love? You want me to talk to you? Tell you how good you feel? You wan
t me to tell you how perfect your sweet little pussy feels when you squeeze my cock like that? You want me to tell you how much I love fucking you? I can’t live without this. I can’t, darling. I won’t. ”

  “You don’t have to. Keep fucking me, Valentine. Please. Please keep fucking me. Just like this. Fuck me forever. Fuck me until I beg you to stop. ”

  “Would you? Beg me to stop?”

  “Never. I’ll only ever beg you for more. ” She put both hands on the mirror now and pushed back to meet my thrusts, to fuck me back. “Just like this, Valentine. Don’t ever stop. ”

  “I won’t. I promise. I love you too much. I love this too much. ”

  “You—fuck, Valentine, you’re so big. So big it almost hurts. It hurts so good, though. ” She caught her breath and started over. “You remember the last time you fucked me in this closet?”

  A flash of memory seared through me as I neared climax: Kyrie, bent over against the mirror, hands on the glass, feet wide apart just like now, a vibrator in her asshole, her wide round ass jiggling and bouncing as I fucked her harder and harder, her screams filling the room, tangling with my own growls.

  “God, that was incredible,” I said.

  “Yeah, it was,” she agreed. “But…this…this is better. ” She met my rhythm, and I felt myself losing control, grinding hard and deep, and she rolled her hips against me, her eyes piercing mine. “I want to feel you come, Valentine. Come for me. Right now, baby. ”

  Heat billowed through me, pressure in my balls tightening and ratcheting until I was growling and groaning, my hips flush against her ass, my cock buried deep and pushing in to go deeper.

  “I’m coming, Kyrie. ” I pulled out, on the verge of detonation, and then slammed home. “Kyrie…god, my love…I’m—I’m coming—” She rocked with me as I exploded inside her, shouting as I came. “You’re my everything…. ” I gasped, groaning as another wave of seed flooded out of me and filled her. “This is…everything. My god, Kyrie…I love you so much…I need you…I love you—”

  Her eyes wavered with the intensity of the moment, our gazes locked as I thrust one last time, unleashing a final burst of come within her. “I love you, Valentine. ”

  We stilled then, my cock still buried inside her, both of us shaking. I pulled out, and she straightened, twisting in my arms. Our mouths crashed together, our arms and hands and legs trembling, our hearts beating in mutual frenzy, our tongues tangling. We broke apart, gasping, and Kyrie took my hand, led me to the bedroom. I let her go as she crawled on the bed, her ass waving side to side with a sultry sway, and even though I’d just come, I was twitching with renewed need. She rolled to lie on her back, knees lifted, thighs parted.

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