Liam
"Get Zaya to come down and have breakfast with me," I instructed Martha while sitting at the head of the dining table. This was supposed to be Alpha Ryan's position, but my brother was away for work.
"B-but the A-alpha had r-requested that—" she began. I glared at her, already fed up with her whiny, quivering tone.
"You may work for my brother, but have you forgotten who you are loyal to?"
She fell silent, her face turning so ghastly pale that I doubted it would take much for her to faint right there in front of me.
"Do I need to remind you why you are loyal to me?".
She shook her head rapidly. "Not at all, sir."
"Good."
I waved my hand dismissively. "Now get out of my sight and go get her. Drag her down screaming if you have to."
"Yes, sir." She bowed and scurried away.
Pathetic.
I had been thinking about Zaya ever since that day. One taste wasn't enough. I wanted more. But that's the thing about addictions—people think one taste will get it out of their system, but the feeling only leaves them wanting more.
I always get what I want.
And if more of my little rabbit Zaya is what I want, then more is exactly what I will take. No one will stand in my way—not even Ryan. Not yet anyway.
I leaned back in my chair, waiting for her to come down. Ryan never did this—he never had breakfast with her. He was always hiding away in his office, avoiding things like this. That was fine with me. I would make sure to do everything with her first.
She would realise with time that Ryan is not the one for her. I am. He doesn't pay attention to her like I do. He doesn't care about her like I do.
And he doesn't draw out those beautiful cries from her lips or make her toes curl the way I do.
Only me.
I would possess her mind, her soul. I would be everything to her. I would be her god. And when she finally discovered that I had never been Ryan, she would realise that he could never be as good to her as I am.
He could never be me.
Where was she?
I was growing impatient, and when I got impatient, I got angry. And when I got angry…
My thoughts cut off as I looked up and saw her coming down the staircase.
"Damn," I muttered under my breath.
It seemed my wolf felt the same because I could feel his excitement rising.
She looked nervous, her fingernails scratching at her cuticles as she approached.
I smirked. "Do I make you nervous, little bunny?"
"Yes!" Her eyes widened. "No… a little."
Her cheeks turned a deep red, probably from embarrassment, but I found it cute. She was the first person who stuttered without making me want to rip their head off. And everyone knew how I usually handled my urges.
"Take a seat," I said, gesturing to the chair beside me.
Breakfast passed in silence. She was nervous, and I was too focused on the movement of her lips, the way her throat worked as she swallowed her food.
How beautifully she would choke on my member.
I felt myself harden against my jeans and leaned down slightly to adjust myself.
She finished breakfast quickly.
"I'll be out of your hair now," she said, standing up abruptly.
"Wait," I ordered, rising to my feet.
She looked helpless, like a lost little deer. "Where are you going?"
"Well, Alpha Ryan, I…"
"Shhh." I placed a finger against her lips, silencing her. "What did I say you should call me?"
She looked up at me with her wide, doe-like eyes, swallowing thickly. I waited.
"Master," she whispered.
I groaned. "Fuck, baby girl."
I placed my lips on hers, devouring her in an all-consuming kiss. She wrapped her arms around my neck and let her eyes flutter shut.
I lifted her up and sat her down at the edge of the table. She sat with her legs slightly apart, her back arching towards me. I stepped closer until her breasts were pressed against my chest.
I dipped my head, brushing my lips against the inside of her neck. She shivered as I kissed down her skin. Her hands gripped the edge of the table tightly.
With my hands on her thighs, I widened her legs and raised the hem of her dress before dropping to my knees.
Zaya would be the only altar I would be willing to kneel at and worship.
And I would do that gladly because she was my goddess—my Aphrodite.
I dipped my head, my lips brushing against the lace of her panties. She gasped, her fingers tightening on the table. With a slow, deliberate motion, I pulled the fabric aside, my breath fanning over her most sensitive spot.
"Master, please," she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.
My tongue traced a slow path along her folds. My touch had no gentleness—just raw demand and possession. Zaya's hips bucked involuntarily, her body responding to my tongue's every movement.
Nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. All that was important to me was bringing her to her orgasm.
Her moans grew louder, her body tensing as pleasure built within her. My hands gripped her hips tighter, holding her in place as I continued to worship her with my mouth.
She screamed, her voice breaking as the pleasure became too much. She tried to wriggle away, but I held her firmly, pressing her down with my hand on her stomach.
"Master… I'm about to…"
She came, releasing herself into my mouth, and I swallowed every drop.
"You taste delicious, baby girl," I said with a wide smirk, licking the remnants of her essence from my lips.
Her eyes were dazed—she was drunk on pleasure.
"What do you have to say to me, little rabbit?" I asked softly.
"Thank you, Master," she breathed out.
"Good girl."