Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate - Season 2 Episode 13

Sinclair

When I wake, it’s to the feeling of Ella’s round bottom undulating against my hard cock. Her back is flush to my chest, her naked body perfectly cushioned by my much larger form on one side, and the boundary of her nest on the other. I have no doubt I was already swollen with arousal when she roused, as sleeping beside her every night is an ever-increasing challenge, especially now that our relationship has become overtly romantic. I fell asleep with her honeyed nectar still lingering on my tongue, after yet another session of pleasuring Ella unconscious to try and pacify her wolf.

I open my eyes, tightening my arms on the sweet bundle and trying to silence the excited growls of my wolf. Such a needy little mate. He’s crooning. My Ella. Mine, mine, mine. It hasn’t escaped his notice that my mouth is mere inches away from her lovely neck. So close, it would be so easy, so simply. Just one little bite.

I rumble in sympathy, pressing my lips to that special juncture where her shoulder curves up into the graceful column of her throat, but forcing myself to go no further. This is my consolation prize. I can kiss her claiming spot all I want, I can even give it the occasional nibble… maybe a frequent nibble… or a little nip… just a tiny baby bite… NO! I quickly break myself out of the reverie, cursing Ella’s delicious scent.

This is torture. My wolf complains. I can’t believe the Goddess would send us a mate then refuse us the ability to claim her. It’s sadistic – criminal even!

Ella, for her part, isn’t making the situation any easier. The naughty creature is still rubbing her bottom suggestively against me, but she’s also pretending to be asleep. She’s taking determinedly even breaths, much too intentional and heavy to compare to the gentle sighs of her usual dozing. I’ve spent much more time than I’d like to admit watching this little wolf sleep, and I know an act when I see it. The nerve, I think in complete amusement. As if all her rocking and wriggling is just tossing and turning, and not a calculated a*sault.

“I know you’re awake, trouble.” I purr in her ear, quickly rewarded with a small giggle.

Chuckling myself, I prop myself onto and elbow and roll Ella onto her back, both relieved and disappointed to lose the stimulation of her lush behind. I duck my head and claim her lips, dragging my palm down to her swollen breast as I steal the breath from her lungs. Ella moans and arches into my hand, and I drag my thumb over her beaded nipple. We carry on this way for a while, saying good morning with our bodies instead of our voices, and enjoying every last moment.

When I finally pull back, bumping her pert nose with my own, I fall headfirst into the bottomless pools of her golden eyes. “Well, imp? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“It wasn’t my fault.” The brazen thing actually bats her eyelashes at me, the very picture of innocence. “I woke up and it was practically stabbing me, what else was I supposed to do?”

In hindsight I realize she might have done much worse. If I woke up first and found Ella aroused, there are about a dozen different and completely debauched ways I would have chosen to wake her. The possibilities are already racing through my mind: images of Ella splayed before me, whimpering in her sleep, coming before she even – Get your mind out of the gutter!

“You were supposed to wake me up so I could get things under control – not try to seduce me.” I grin, flashing my fangs so she knows I’m only half joking.

Ella drops her head back and groans. “It isn’t fair.” She complains, “you get to touch me all you want, and I never get to return the favor!”

“Because I don’t trust myself not to lose control.” I remind her for the tenth time, already anticipating her usual rebuttal of: but you’re always in control. “All bets are off when it comes to you, Ella.”

Ella huffs, but peeks up at me curiously, “I was thinking.” She begins hesitantly, her slender fingers toying with the dark hair scattered over my chest.

“Mhmm?” I prompt, tracing my fingers down her tummy.

“Maybe we could have more dream dates.” Ella muses hopefully. “Then we could both get some fun out of this.”

I blink in surprise. “Sweetheart, do you imagine that I’m not getting fun out of this? That I don’t enjoy giving you pleasure?”

“No, I know you do.” Ella answers, her skin flushing bright red. “In fact I think you might enjoy it too much.” She adds ruefully, earning a laugh in reply. I know she’s been overwhelmed by my dedication to making her see stars as often and frequently as I can, but I don’t feel the least bit sorry about it. She deserves all this and more. “But I like giving pleasure too.” She finally admits, “and I feel guilty that you never get… you know, rewarded.”

I should have realized that someone as generous as Ella would want to give affection as much, if not more, than she wants to receive it, but I wasn’t joking about my struggles with control. “I’m sorry, baby.” I profess honestly, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to her lips. “I know it’s difficult. And believe me, I wish things were different. I wish I could be buried in your sweet p–”

“Dominic!” Ella exclaims, cutting me off and looking scandalized.

“Tsk, poor little wolf,” I chuckle, “raised by those prudish humans.” Ella grumbles one of those adorable kittenish growls, and I mentally debate how often is too often to outrage her sweet sensibilities. I love her blushes, and I never want to lose the ability to shock her this way. For the time being I decide that dirty talk is only going to make abstaining more difficult. “The point was that I wish I could be buried in you 24/7, but we can’t.”

“Not even in our dreams?” Ella inquires earnestly.

“Maybe if we dream in different beds.” I concede, “but I think it would be dangerous to try while sleeping together. If I can actually feel you in my arms, while I’m making love to you in my head… it would just be a recipe for disaster. I might even claim you while unconscious.”

Ella lowers her gaze in disappointment. “Okay, I suppose that makes sense.”

“It’s only a few more months.” I say, hoping to offer her some comfort. “And towards the end you probably won’t want me anywhere near you. You’ll be so uncomfortable and ready to get this baby out of you, that you’ll probably want to rip my head off just for putting it here in the first place.”

Ella frowns, and at first I think I’ve put my foot in my mouth. However a moment later she inquires, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” I agree, much too quickly. She really does have me wrapped around her little finger.

“When we first met and the doctor was worried about the baby being too small, you mentioned that your mother had been told the same when she was carrying you.” Ella reminds me thoughtfully. I hum in confirmation, and she continues. “I’ve just, I’ve never had any women in my life to help guide me through this. I mean there’s plenty of nonsense online, but a billion women arguing with each other about what’s best and which experiences are accurate… it’s just not the same as hearing from someone you trust. Do you know much about your mother’s experience?”

I find myself smiling, my mother’s beautiful face appearing in my head. “She used to tell me that story all the time. About how all the doctors were convinced I was going to be a runt, but I proved them wrong and ended up being one of the healthiest, strongest pups they’d even seen. Every time I doubted myself, or felt like a failure, she reminded me that nothing in life ever stays the same, and you never know how a story will turn out when you’re still in the thick of it.”

“How old were you, when she died?” Ella questions gently, snuggling a bit closer to me, no doubt to lend her comfort.

“I was only six.” I share softly. “I don’t remember much about her, but I remember that story, and I remember her smile. I learned a lot of the other pieces second-hand from my father, but those memories are the ones I know are my own.”

Ella offers me a bittersweet smile. “Would you tell me… I mean, only if you want to, I’m just…”

“How she died?” I guess, knowing Ella is curious but reluctant to make me share a difficult story. I nod. “That seems only fair, since I’ve been asking you about all your traumas.”

“Still, you don’t have to tell me unless you want to.” Ella repeats firmly.

“It’s okay, baby. You should know – it’s only right.” I take a deep breath, transporting myself back to all those years ago, and begin.