Corrupted (Alpha's Claim Book 5) by Addison Cain (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

up from her work trying to gather slippery bits of carbohydrates covered in sauce to abstractly consider the Alpha watching her. “Then there is the outlying concern. If you lived in Beta sector, you would have been put to death the day you raped me in the alley.”

“Brenya.” It was not her first warning of the day.

The noodles were waiting on her spoon, right there. Eating when she was so hungry seemed more relevant than conversation. After all, the Alpha had a history of forgetting she was a living thing that required water, air, and sustenance. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Mon chou….” Lifting his glass, ice tinkling against the crystal, Jacques sipped, staring at her over the rim.

If he was going to leave things unspoken, she was going to eat. The tiny nest of pasta went into her mouth, chewed in fascination of the strange texture. After a swallow, she immediately began to prepare another bite.

“You seem unusually hungry.”

It might have been the first relevant comment the Alpha had made that evening. Relevant enough that she looked up from her dwindling plate and shifted a modicum of her attention from thoughts of gold forks to the symmetry of his face.

When they were alone, Jacques wore his hair loose, blond waves cascading over broad shoulders. Brenya was very familiar with the procedure of unweaving the braid and setting it loose, that being one of the duties he outlined would be hers as his mate. He’d purr and groan as she worked through those locks, her fingers systematically working through the procedure to the exact count of sixty seconds. When it was done, she would fellate him before he might decide to seek other indulgences. Just as Annette had taught her.

Sprawled in his chair, she would begin counting, following his requests, ignoring how often he made her gag or how much her jaw might ache. And where her fingers had been in his hair, his were now tangled in hers, the Alpha moving her to whatever rhythm he favored.

It was a race to excite him enough he might come down her throat and save her from another mounting. His changing moods made it difficult to keep up with the uncontrolled thing he became when aroused. Desperation led her to suck harder, move faster, drool everywhere so he might finish and leave her alone.

At least for an hour while he smirked in his chair and watched her stare out the window. That was if he didn’t drag her to his lap for a long kiss and hold her there until he was done doing whatever it was he thought to accomplish by keeping her tucked under his chin.

Two of the last four days, she had either overperformed in this act or underperformed, both times ending up stuffed full of cock and knotted by a rutting male who bruised where he gripped. Her back to his damp chest, he would place his hot palm where his seed left her belly distended and purr. The longer the knot, the more his fingers might slip down to toy with the sensitive flesh between her legs, compelling another orgasm he timed with his next gush.

The slosh of what he left inside her body, what was plugged by his bulbous, pulsating knot. Brenya both knew relief when his member shrank enough to set the torrent free, and disgust from the way his fluids would flood over her thighs.

It was so much.

A pool of Alpha sperm. And for some reason, it seemed as if each time she braced for his pleasure, he produced more.

He’d want her to lay in that cooling sticky mess, touching and rumbling, saying things she ignored. He’d hold her there despite all her aches and the sting between her legs, despite the scratches and the weeping bites that seemed to bleed every time he put his hands on her with a sexual intent.

One day. All she wanted was one day without some part of his body inside some part of hers.

Heaven help her if she winced at any of his handling, because that meant a session with the pliarator.

As if any machine might stretch her enough that his member would ever fit without pain.

“You will struggle to deliver children, petite as you are,” Jacques had murmured, manipulating the pliarator as she writhed. “It is a pity we will have to scar your beautiful skin to get them out.”

The idea of baring a child in the Centrist fashion—one that would be exposed to this man—led to a reaction that ignored logic and ended in disaster. Instead of struggling against the pliarator, she lifted a leg and kicked him right in the chest. The machine slipped from her channel, the man was displaced long enough for her to escape that gross puddle and run out of the bed.

Right into the bathroom.

Where she locked the door as if that might actually keep him out.

He ripped it off the hinges, wood splintering as if it took little effort.

Naked, slimy, cornered, thin arms around her middle, and trying to hide behind her hair, Brenya shrank.

“You won’t even be awake for the procedure, Brenya. There is no reason to react in such a way. Your penchant for violence and threats is….” He took her arm, dragging her from the room. It was hard to keep up with his stride, her legs still shaking from the pliarator effect on her nerves.

He never finished his statement, spinning her about until the mattress hit her belly and her legs dangled to the floor.

She heard the clicks and knew what it meant. He was resetting the machine, altering the program, before that horrible thing might find a new home.

Crying through it all, she bore the burning anal stretch, hiccupping when the Alpha allowed the machine to simulate a knot that must have stretched her until her burning ring was bloodless and white.

The hands stroking her back and the unwelcome platitudes did nothing to ease even a moment of it. Brenya couldn’t even reach out to