THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

Meanwhile at the witches’ community, the same time:

Emma was dreaming.

The dream had her clenching and opening her legs in reality, as she sought relief someway and somehow.

It was erotic.

“I can feel your hunger beating at me.”

Derek’s voice was soft, seductive. His hands came down on her shoulders, moved lightly down her arms, traced the sweeping line of her back to her waist. Bare satin skin. He caressed the small of her back, the line of her hips beneath the gossamer skirt she was wearing, moved his hands around to trace her buttocks – to find she wore nothing beneath the filmy material.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

His breath caught in his throat, molten lava moving through his blood, spreading heat and fire to pool low in a hard, throbbing ache. She leaned into him, tilting her head back, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat, thrusting her breasts upward invitingly as she reached back to circle his neck with one arm.

He needed the feel of her mouth on him, the erotic sensation of her sharing the essence of his body, his life. Derek circled her body to cup her breasts, to feel the weight of them through the thin fabric of her blouse. Only the small knot kept them from spilling free into his palms.

“I want you, my love, right now,” He whispered against the nape of her neck, one hand slipping down to follow the curve of her hip, to find the slit in the gossamer skirt so he could shape her leg, trace her thigh, move his hand to find the damp heat beckoning in the nest of tiny curls. She moaned softly, his need merging with hers, his erotic images dancing in her mind, heightening her own desire, heating her blood. She pressed back against him, feeling the hard length of him, picking up the seductive rhythm of his fingers as he delved deep into her secret velvet sheath. Heat and fire. Flames licking over her skin. Her body coiling tighter and tighter. His desire pounding like a jackhammer in her head, in hers.

She was aware of his hand at the knot beneath her breasts, the material suddenly gaping open, spilling her aching breasts into view of his hungry eyes. One hand found softness, his thumb caressing her nipple into a hard peak.

“Do you want me, Emma?” he asked softly, his voice husky with need.

“Very much,” She replied, barely able to force the words out of her throat.

“I need you, Derek, need you in me, your body in mine.” And she did. More than anything, she needed to feel his body taking possession of hers. The heat of the cavern was in her body, all around. She wanted him like this, hard and hot and hungry for her. She wanted those images dancing in her mind for all time. She bent her head back even more as he leaned over her body, her arm bringing his head closer so that she could find his throat, his thick, muscular neck.

Unerringly she found his pulse, pounding erratically, the telltale evidence of his intense desire. Against her back she could feel the heat of his skin, the muscles of his chest, the slamming of his heart in synchronization with hers. She arched her breast more fully into his palm, her hips finding the rhythm of his fingers.

Her mouth moved over his pulse, breathed warm seduction, and felt it jump beneath her swirling tongue. She pressed back against him to feel him thick and hard through their clothes. Her teeth nipped, scraped, teased. She smiled when he groaned and offered her his throat, his palm grinding harder into the softness of her breast, his fingers stroking deeply. Her body clenched seductively around his fingers, taking him deeper, pushing against his hand for more. She moved in restless, wanton invitation against him.

He groaned again, the sound, erotic and husky, tearing from his throat as her hips moved against his hand, her body shuddering with pleasure. The feel of her mouth was driving him crazy. His slacks were far too cumbersome against his sensitive skin, growing tighter and tighter as his body swelled with need.

His fist found her hair and clenched it tightly while he closed his eyes and threw back his head, savoring the freedom as he sprang free, hot, throbbing, thick, and hard. Her nails raked him lightly, her fingers moving over him in the exact way his mind anticipated. Her hands glided over his waist, his flat, hard belly, thumbs hooking in his trousers and pushing them down his thighs. The feel of her hands was driving him crazy. The very air around them was heavy with their combined scents, with the intensity of their hunger. With his mind firmly in hers, she knew what he wanted, what his body was demanding, what was driving him over the edge. His body shuddered as her tongue caught the beads of sweat rolling down his belly, following the trail to find him swelling even more. He was velvet over iron, hot and needy.

Emma’s mouth was tight and moist and perfect as he thrust helplessly over and over, his fists clenched in her hair. When he looked down at her, the sight was so erotic, her blouse open and her breasts thrust forward, her nipples hard and erect, the filmy skirt nearly transparent, its slit exposing her leg and thigh. Her hands were moving over him, never still, cupping his weight, delving into the firmness of his buttocks, running up and down the column of his thighs.

She looked exotic and beautiful and was giving them both such exquisite pleasure he thought they might go up in flames. He tugged her to him, brought her against the hard strength of his body, held her tightly so that he could feel every inch of her satiny skin. She was delicate beneath his exploring palms, fragile, a perfectly formed woman, and he had every sweeping line, every curve, committed to memory.

Then all of a sudden, she felt a bad energy in the air, polluting the scent of their lovemaking. She sensed the change in him. It was in the hard possession of his hands, the sudden aggression of his body. For the first time she was afraid. She caught his thick black hair in her fists and made a small sound somewhere between submission and protest. “Derek.”

She whispered his name like a talisman, knowing he would always protect her. At once he raised his head. Her breath caught in her throat. Behind the depths of his eyes crouched a primitive animal; she could see it, the red flames in its eyes, the heat and hunger gathering into a fierce conflagration. Her heart thudded wildly. “Derek.”

She tightened her grip in his hair, two large handfuls, holding on for her life.

But he instantly, as if under a spell, took away her hands from his hair, and held them together above her head.

His face was changing now.

“Derek!” She shouted this time, aware that something was happening to her boyfriend, some demon had possessed him.

She struggled to push him away from her but her efforts were all in vain. It was like she was fighting against a tree which had fallen on her.

She watched with horrid eyes as horns sprout out on his head, and a saliva like substance dripped from his eyes.

And when he cackled in laughter and forcefully turned her neck as if to eat into it, she screamed and woke up.

She was sweating, as she sat up on the bed. Her chest kept moving up and down.

She tried taking in deep breaths to calm herself, but it was not working.

Her eyes ran to the clock on the wall; three a. m.

Beside her was Prescott. He was sleeping, unaware of her fearful state.

She knew that Derek was in trouble.

She had to return to him; and return she shall, first thing at dawn.