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

purr, Shepherd replied, “I saw the way he looked at her, little one. It’s the same way I look at you.”

“Then it’s done, Shepherd.”

No. It had only just begun.

A foreign power could not contain Jules Havel. The Commodore of Bernard Dome could not degrade a man who had stood by Shepherd’s side, who had been his friend—who had charmed Claire when she was lonely, who had stood as his partner as they had wreaked vengeance upon Thólos.

Jacques Bernard had started a war.

And five of his people had already died.

16

He had never seen her eyes so wide upon his return, or found her so eager to run her palms over his body when he reached for his mon chou.

She had heard him, grasped that males enjoyed touch, and was listening.

Even if she was sick from too much food.

That first thrust broke the magic, his mate grimacing at the impact of his hips on hers.

Why could she not be like the Beta females he could ride day and night? Fragile vaginal passage, picky womb, there always seemed to be something that hindered what should be between them.

Pulling out, he issued the growl he knew would leave her body pumping out the very fluid it needed to seat him, before he shoved back in.

Deep.

Omegas were designed by the Gods to be fucked and adored by Alphas, but this one, she needed endless work.

Which only made him crave her more.

No pussy would ever panic around his cock like Brenya’s did. And when he conquered—as he always did—no pussy would ever choke his knot so hard he saw stars.

She was a strong thing, small breasts thrust toward his mouth as her back bowed.

Her pain made him leak for her. The pleasure he could make her feel would swell her flat stomach until she was fat with him.

Thrusting hard and fast, feeding off her submission and sorry squeaks, he grunted like a boar and fucked.

In his bed.

In his Dome.

His mate.

The Omega thought to supplicate with his latest demands that she touch him. Pats here. Pats there. A great deal of squealing.

He prayed the bastard Beta locked downstairs could feel each thrust. Knowing he might, Jacques ravaged all the harder.

Her ankles at his back, the Omega cried out. “I am begging you!”

Then he would deliver. Lifting his weight from her tiny frame, Jacques sat back on his heels so he might see how perfectly her labia screamed around her mate’s cock. Stretched bloodless, they hugged his shaft as he retreated from her heat. Puffed with the force of his next thrust, that part of her seemed to disappear.

If he didn’t know her better, he would assume she was having a stroke.

So he stroked her again.

Warm honey, that was what her eyes looked like before he blew them into black.

Hand to slender hips, watching the bouncing tits of his pretty Omega, he fucked and fucked and fucked away—tossing his head back when she began to flutter.

When her pussy began to beg.

As it should!

The knot, perhaps his sixth of the day, was not his most impressive. Still, it locked behind her pubic bone, shot deep and true.

It was genuine, just like the text claimed. Mated Alpha’s testicles were always swollen. They needed to be milked.

Jacques had learned this the hard way, moaning as he circled his hips and dug even deeper.

Gods, she was small. When she grew fat with his babies, she would scarce be able to stand upright.

She could hardly contain him as it was!

Which only urged him to fill her even more.

Bones creaking under his hips, she opened enough that his knot might dig deeper.

And deeper still as his perfect female swooned.

That fucking Beta! The arrogance of the man. To think that he might ever be capable of tasting her sweet slick without Jacques to draw it forth. A mere Beta couldn't make her bloom with a single rumbling note, the application of the perfect force.

Brenya needed an Alpha...

The sleeve encasing his cock began to rhythmically convulse. Little hands touching on his body as if he were a console.

Could a console fuck this hard?

The wayward Omega squealed like a cute little piglet each time he shoved his knot deeper.

That first wad of seed…

It was as if Jacques could feel how thick and globular it might be, traveling down his shaft, his sperm searching for her cervix.

Omegas were meant to drink. All the text said so.

So this one had been conditioned to bloat. Brenya didn’t even cry anymore when her tummy got fat. Like any good mate, she lay and accepted.

When his knot inevitably shrank, she even held a good portion deep inside.

He’d tested her more than once. Gently pushing on her tummy to watch the flood he left inside her wet the bed.

It came out curdled these days, solid proof that her sweet cunt wanted to retain what he had graced her with. But there was something about watching his gift flow.

Drinking it down was even better.

Honey.

The perfect slippery sweetness. Sucking her empty, enjoying how she groaned when he brought her to an empty climax, Jacques thought of the Beta trapped below and slurped down a mouthful of himself.

17

Bernard Dome

Muscles stiff from built-up lactic acid, scraped raw inside and out, bruised—sleep had dragged Brenya down so deep she didn’t so much as toss in the sticky puddle of fluids left behind when Jacques finished with her.

The first sharp jerk didn’t so much as register. It was the following insistent tugs on her arm that, oh so slowly, gave her a reason to part her lashes.

It was still dark, yet a single lamp had been lit, outlining the form of a radiant woman dressed in maroon silks. Pin-straight black locks perfect, almost as smooth as the glass of the Dome.

“You must rise, Commodorina!”

Accent thick, fingernails sharp, a slender figure literally pulled her almost to the floor.

“What?” What on earth could anyone want when there had been dreams of sandy beaches, jungles outside the Dome? There had been fresh, unrecycled air….

“I was ordered to fetch you.