❝I respectfully decline, alphas. ❞
꧁━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━꧂
➽ 𝘞𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌 you're a maid, trying to live your life in peace, but you end up catching the attention of the notorious alphas.
ᴊᴊᴋᴠᴀʀɪᴏᴜsメғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
↝ ℜ𝔶𝔬𝔪𝔢�...
You had leaned back just enough to see his face—lips parted, eyes half-lidded, hair falling messily over his shoulders like he was seconds away from completely falling apart.
And fuck, he looked good like that.
Heat coiled low in your stomach. He smelled divine—rich and clean, like incense and something warmer underneath. It made your head feel light, your pulse unsteady.
Your eyes dragged down the line of his throat. And it took everything in you not to lean back in and absolutely ruin him.
The wind stirred through the trees, brushing cool air across your skin—not that it helped. Not when heat was licking up your spine, pooling in your gut, making every inch of your body hum with power.
You had him right where you wanted him. Pinned beneath your hips, hands still gripping tight, barely keeping it together.
Hair falling in his face, breath shallow, scent thick with want and frustration. His pupils were blown, lips parted just enough to show the smallest bite of fang. The Alpha in him was clawing at the surface—but he hadn't snapped yet.
His eyes met yours, sharp and dark, holding steady through the tension building between you. That calm, smug little smirk tugged at his lips—so fucking composed. Like he was playing along.
"Mm." You let your nails drag down his chest, slow and deliberate, just to watch him flinch. "Look who's being tamed now."
He let out a low, breathy laugh—dark, full of heat. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady despite the flush on his cheeks and the twitch of his jaw.
"Tamed?" he echoed, voice like velvet dragged over embers. "You're not taming me, sweetheart. I'm letting you close."
"Don't mistake stillness for surrender," he murmured, lips curling. "Even storms wait their turn."
You smirked, leaned in until your lips just barely grazed his ear.
"Sure," you whispered, voice smooth. "And I'm just sitting on you for the view."
You leaned back, gave him a slow once-over, then added—deadpan, sharp—
"If I wanted the storm, I'd summon it."
Your hips rolled against him just enough to knock the air from his lungs. He sucked in a sharp breath, jaw flexing.
His breath stuttered—sharp, involuntary. And before he could think better of it, he was dragging you flush against him. His control cracked right down the middle.
"Fuck," he breathed, voice suddenly ragged. "You—"
You cut him off with your mouth.
Heat surged as your lips met—hard, hungry, devastating. Your teeth caught his lower lip and bit, not enough to draw blood—but enough to hear that sweet, choked sound he made in the back of his throat.