Moan Of An Alpha Queen

The forest was a blur-leaves trembling, wind whispering secrets, moonlight painting her bare skin in silver-blue.

She lay beneath him, breath ragged, heart thundering in her chest like a battle drum. His body hovered over hers, heat radiating off him in waves. Muscles taut, covered in faded scars. Every inch of him looked carved for war, but the way he touched her... it was worship.

Not gentle. Never that. But reverent. Like she was something sacred he was about to defile.

His eyes never left hers.

He wanted to see it. The moment her pride shattered.

He dipped his head to her throat, tongue flicking across her pulse. She arched up instinctively, the spark of contact making her lips part in a silent gasp. His teeth grazed her skin, not quite biting. Teasing. Testing.

"Still in control, Alpha?" he whispered against her throat.

"Loosen up for me my Queen" he whispered as he dragged his lips down.

She hated how much her body reacted to that voice-husky, rough, a touch feral. It rolled over her like thunder, pressing deep into places no one had ever touched. She could have shoved him off. She could have ended this with a command.

She didn't.

His hand slid down her side, fingers tracing the curves of her waist, her hip, the inside of her thigh. Her legs spread before her mind gave permission.

She was open. Vulnerable.

And it turned her on so much it made her dizzy.

His fingers found her wet-soaked, throbbing, aching for more. He hummed low in his chest, satisfied, cocky.

"You want to be fucked like you're not a queen, don't you?" he said, voice dark silk. "Just a woman",he said as he placed kisses on her stomach.

Her breath hitched. The insult should have made her furious. Instead, her hips rolled toward his hand.

He smirked. "That's what I thought."

His lips trailed up, and his mouth found her breast, lips hot and hungry, tongue swirling over her nipple until it stood taut, aching. She bit her lip to hold back the sound clawing at her throat. He noticed.

"Oh no, pretty thing," he said, sliding lower, trailing kisses down her stomach. "I want to hear you."

He slowly went down and knelt between her legs, spreading her wide with his rough hands. His tongue flicked out, tasted her, and she gasped-the sound raw and unfiltered. He groaned into her pussy, as if he liked her taste more than air.

Then he feasted.

He licked her like he was starving, like her pleasure was something he'd been denied his whole life. His tongue teased her clit, then pressed flat and hard, circling until she was grinding against his mouth. Every stroke sent sparks up her spine. Every flick pushed her closer to the edge.

She tried to stay quiet, biting her fist, but he noticed that too.

He pulled back just enough to growl, "Moan for me."

She glared at him, breathing hard. "You think you've earned that?"

He smiled, wicked and hungry. "I know I have."

Two fingers slid into her, slow and deliberate. His mouth returned to her clit, and this time, she didn't bite anything. She cried out-sharp and filthy, her voice echoing through the trees.

He worked her like he knew her body better than she did-sucking, curling, stroking until her hips shook and her thighs trembled.

She came with a scream, back arching, walls clenching around his fingers. Her moan-deep, broken, real-spilled from her lips before she could stop it.

She lay panting, dazed, sweat slicking her skin.

He didn't stop.

He moved over her, letting her feel the weight of him again-his chest brushing hers, cock hard and ready, pressing against her entrance.

"I haven't even started," he whispered in her ear.

Then he pushed inside.

Slow. Deep. Devastating.

She cried out again-not in pain, not quite in pleasure. Something rawer. A sound she didn't recognize. A sound of surrender.

He filled her completely, stretching her, claiming her. Her walls pulsed around him, slick and hot. His hips moved in a brutal rhythm, but it wasn't rushed. He took his time. He wanted to own every reaction, every sound, every desperate arch of her back.