Caught by the Mad Alpha King

Chapter 491: Love.

The air between them thickened, becoming something heavier than talk. Dax’s pheromones, which were dark, intoxicating, and laced with command, coiled through the space, making a silent, physical assertion that completely bypassed debate. It was an old trick, but it still worked because Chris’s body was and had always been a traitor, particularly to Dax.

"No," Chris said, the word lacking any conviction.

Dax’s smile was a slow, predatory thing. He didn’t argue. He simply lowered his head and inhaled at Chris’s neck and shoulder, making a deep, possessive sound that vibrated through Chris’s bones. "Liar."

The accusation was a kiss against his skin, hot and open-mouthed. Chris’s hands came up clutching at the open panels of Dax’s shirt, his fingers digging into the hard, warm planes of his husband’s chest. He could feel the steady, loud beat of Dax’s heart and the heat coming off of him like a furnace.

Dax’s hands slowly moved from the window frame to Chris’s body. One was wrapped around his hip and the other spread out across the small of his back, pulling him close. Chris could feel the hard, insistent ridge of Dax’s arousal through both layers of their trousers.

"We," Dax murmured, his lips traveling up the column of Chris’s throat, "have forgotten something."

"The budget reports?" Chris managed, his voice already strained.

A low chuckle. "Our son. Jax is in the next room."

"After four, he’s with his nannies already," Chris breathed, tilting his head to give Dax better access.

Dax’s response was to bite into the muscle of Chris’s shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but with enough pressure to make his point. A shudder ripped through Chris, and his knees went weak. Dax held him up easily, walking him backward with careful steps until the back of Chris’s legs hit the edge of their huge bed.

Chris went down onto the bed with a soft thump, and Dax followed, covering him with his body without breaking their kiss. The sheer weight of him was a familiar pressure that stole the air from Chris’s lungs.

Dax’s mouth left his, trailing a line of fire down his jaw to his throat. He bit down again, a sharp, possessive sting that made Chris’s back arch, heat pooling low in his belly.

"You," Dax growled against his skin, "are a terrible liar."

Chris’s fingers tightened their grip on Dax’s shirt. "And you," he retorted, his voice breathless, "are a brute who relies on cheap tricks."

Dax lifted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Are they cheap?" he mused, his hand moving to the hem of Chris’s shirt. "They seem to be working."

With a single motion, he stripped the shirt over Chris’s head and tossed it aside. The cool air hit Chris’s skin but was quickly replaced by the heat of Dax’s hands as they roamed over his chest and stomach.

Chris quickly worked his way through the remaining buttons on Dax’s shirt, his fingers fumbling in the process. He needed to feel Dax’s skin against his own. He pushed the fabric aside, his palms flattening against the hard planes of Dax’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

Dax shuddered, his control finally showing a crack. He lowered his head again, his mouth finding Chris’s in a kiss that was hungrier, more demanding. It was a kiss of need, of a long day finally giving way to the raw desire that had always existed between them. Chris met him with equal ferocity.

Dax’s hands moved lower, his fingers undoing the fastenings of Chris’s trousers. He paused, his thumb stroking over the hard length of Chris’s arousal through the fabric, the teasing pressure that made Chris’s hips buck off the bed.

"Dax," Chris gasped, his hands gripping Dax’s shoulders, his nails digging in. "Don’t you dare."

A low chuckle was his only answer. Dax finally stripped him of his trousers and underwear, leaving him bare. Chris felt a flicker of self-consciousness, but it was extinguished by the look in Dax’s eyes. It was a look of raw, unadulterated hunger.

Dax stood, quickly removing the rest of his own clothes. He was a beautiful sight, with all of his raw strength and muscles. Chris’s mouth got dry, his body got tense with excitement.

Dax got back on the bed with him, and their bodies were once again skin to skin. The friction of their bodies moving together was a delicious torment that stoked the fire of their desire to a fever pitch.

"Now," Dax murmured, his lips brushing against Chris’s ear, "where were we?"

Chris wrapped his legs around Dax’s waist, pulling him closer. "I believe," he said, his voice a low whisper, "you were about to stop talking."

Dax’s answer was a low, guttural sound of approval. A cool, wet finger was circling Chris’s entrance, a teasing touch that made his muscles clench.

"Relax," Dax murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Let me in, Chris."

Chris took a deep breath, forcing his body to go pliant. Dax’s finger slowly and carefully slid inside, stretching and filling him. It was a familiar feeling, one that had been repeated countless times, but it never failed to send a thrill through him.

Dax moved his finger, a slow, in-and-out rhythm that had Chris’s hips rising to meet him. He added a second finger, then a third, carefully and methodically stretching Chris. He curled his fingers, finding that spot inside Chris that made him see stars, a bolt of pure pleasure that had him crying out Dax’s name.

"Like that?" Dax asked, a smug satisfaction in his tone.

"You know I like that," Chris retorted, his voice breathless. "Stop teasing me and fuck me already."

Dax laughed, a low, rich sound. "So demanding."

He withdrew his fingers, leaving Chris feeling empty and aching. Dax settled between his thighs, and Chris felt the blunt head of Dax’s cock press against his entrance.

He wrapped his legs around Dax’s waist, pulling him closer. Dax took it and pushed forward with a slow, steady thrust that buried him deep inside Chris’s body. The feeling was too much to handle; it was a fullness that was both a stretch and a comfort and a pleasure that was so strong it was almost pain.

Dax paused, giving Chris a moment to adjust. He looked down at Chris, his eyes dark with a feeling that was more than just desire.

"Okay?" Dax asked, his voice a low rumble.

Chris nodded, his hands coming up to cup Dax’s face. "Okay," he whispered. "Move."

Dax did. He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that was both a possession and a surrender.

Chris met him thrust for thrust, his hips rising to meet Dax’s, his body a willing participant. The pleasure was now a slow burn, steadily increasing, like a rising tide that threatened to sweep them both away. He could feel the sweat beading on Dax’s brow and could hear the harsh, ragged sound of his breathing.

The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking: the slap of skin against skin, the soft gasps and moans, the whispered words of encouragement. It was a symphony of passion, proof that love can survive storms and come out stronger.

Dax shifted his angle, hitting that spot inside Chris again, and the world tilted. A bolt of pure, white-hot pleasure passed through him, and he cried out, arching off the bed. Dax did it repeatedly, his movements becoming faster and more erratic, his control fraying.

"Chris," Dax gasped, his voice strained. "I’m close."

"Me too," Chris managed to say, his own voice a ragged whisper. "Dax, please."

Dax reached between them, his hand wrapping around Chris’s cock, his thumb stroking the sensitive head. Dax’s deep, hard thrusts, combined with his hand strokes, pushed Chris over the edge.

He came with a cry, his body convulsing, his release a wave of pleasure that ripped through him.

Dax followed him over the edge a moment later, his own release a deep, guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside Chris, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

For a long time, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat, their breathing ragged and uneven. The world gradually returned to focus, the sounds of their lovemaking fading into the silence of the room.