Naughty Empire [An Erotic Collection]

Dominanting The Ruthless Alpha (BL) pt2

Chapter 2

Alexander:

The rug was thick beneath my knees, soft wool fibers digging into my skin as I pinned Major Lazer—Lazer—down with nothing but the weight of my body and the sheer force of my will. His chest heaved under my palms, broad and solid, rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Those piercing green eyes stared up at me, wide with shock that was already melting into something else: intrigue, hunger, a flicker of challenge that made my blood sing.

I could feel his c**k, thick and rigid, pressing insistently against the cleft of my ass through layers of fabric. Every grind of my hips dragged a low, involuntary rumble from his throat. He was hard for me. The ruthless alpha, the one who made omegas tremble and scatter, was hard because an omega had dared to take control.

My fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his black shirt, knuckles brushing the hot skin beneath where the top buttons had popped open in the fall. I leaned down, close enough that our noses brushed, my breath mingling with his.

“Beg,” I whispered, voice low and steady despite the tremor in my limbs. Not a plea. A command.

Lazer’s lips parted on a rough exhale. “You think you can—”

I cut him off by rocking forward hard, grinding my clothed c**k against the flat plane of his abdomen while my ass rolled deliberately over his erection. The friction was exquisite torture—too much fabric, too many barriers—but it made him hiss, hips jerking up instinctively before he caught himself.

“I said beg,” I repeated, slower this time. I slid one hand up, fingers threading into his short dark hair, gripping just tight enough to sting. I tugged his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat. His pulse hammered there, visible, alive. Vulnerable.

He swallowed. Once. Twice. The sound was loud in the quiet hall, the fire crackling softly behind us like distant applause.

I dragged my tongue along the underside of his jaw, tasting salt and the faint metallic edge of his aftershave. Then I bit—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave teeth marks that would bloom purple by morning. He jerked beneath me, a choked sound escaping before he clamped his mouth shut.

“f**k,” he growled, but it lacked the usual authority. It sounded… strained.

“Not yet.” I released his hair only to slide both hands down his chest, nails scraping lightly over the fabric, catching on n*****s that were already peaked and sensitive. I pinched one between thumb and forefinger, rolling it slowly. His back arched off the rug, a sharp inhale hissing through clenched teeth.

“Alexander—”

“No.” I leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of his ear. My voice dropped to a husky murmur. “You don’t get to use my name like that. Not until you earn it. Say ‘please, Omega.’ Say it like you mean it.”

His hands flexed at his sides—still not touching me, still letting me hold him down. That alone sent a dark thrill through my veins. The alpha who could snap my spine with one hand was choosing restraint. For me.

I shifted my weight, sliding lower until I straddled his thighs instead of his hips. My fingers found the buckle of his belt—thick black leather, engraved with subtle silver insignia that screamed military precision. I worked it open slowly, deliberately, letting the metal clink loudly in the silence. Then the button of his trousers. The zipper rasped down tooth by tooth.

His c**k sprang free, heavy and flushed dark at the tip, already glistening with precome. No underwear. Of course not. Alphas like him didn’t bother with unnecessary layers.

I wrapped my hand around him—firm, no teasing strokes yet. Just holding. Feeling the velvet heat, the thick vein pulsing under my palm, the way it twitched when my thumb brushed over the slit and spread the slickness there.

Lazer’s hips bucked once before he forced them still. His breathing had turned ragged.

“Look at you,” I murmured, almost reverent. “So hard. Leaking for an omega you called pathetic ten minutes ago.” I gave one slow, deliberate pump from base to tip. His abs clenched, a low groan tearing from his chest.

“Touch me properly,” he demanded, voice gravel-rough.

I stopped moving entirely. My hand stilled, grip loosening until it was barely there.

His eyes snapped to mine, flashing with frustration.

“Beg,” I said again. Simple. Unyielding.

Silence stretched. The fire popped. Wine dripped slowly from the overturned goblet onto the rug, staining it crimson.

Then, quietly, almost disbelieving: “Please.”

I rewarded him with a long, twisting stroke, thumb circling the head on every upstroke. His thighs tensed under me, muscles jumping.

“Louder.”

“Please… fuck.” The word cracked on the end.

I leaned down and took the head into my mouth without warning—just the tip, tongue swirling around the sensitive frenulum while my hand worked the shaft in tight, slick pulls. He cursed, head slamming back against the rug. One hand flew up, fingers digging into my hair—not pulling me off, but holding on like a lifeline.

The taste of him exploded on my tongue: salty, musky, unmistakably alpha. I sucked harder, cheeks hollowing, letting my teeth graze ever so lightly along the ridge. His hips jerked, pushing deeper before he caught himself again.

I pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his glistening c**k. “Hands above your head.”

He stared at me, pupils blown wide. For a heartbeat I thought he’d refuse. Then, slowly, he raised both arms, crossing his wrists above his head like he was offering himself up.

“Good alpha,” I purred. The words felt foreign and powerful on my tongue.

I reached for the discarded wine goblet—still half full—and tipped it carefully. A thin stream of rich red liquid poured over his chest, running in rivulets down the valleys between his abs, pooling in the dip of his navel. The scent bloomed stronger—tart fruit and oak mingling with his natural musk.

I bent and chased the trails with my tongue, lapping at the wine, at his skin, sucking marks into the firm muscle wherever the liquid touched. When I reached his n****e I bit down gently, then soothed with slow circles of my tongue. He shuddered violently, a broken moan escaping.

“Alexander—please—”

There it was. My name, wrapped in desperation.

I smiled against his skin. “Please what?”

“Please… touch me. More. f**k, anything.”

I slid lower, settling between his spread thighs. His c**k lay heavy against his stomach, flushed and weeping. I blew a cool stream of air over the head, watching it twitch.

“Spread your legs wider.”

He obeyed instantly, knees falling open, exposing everything: the heavy sac drawn tight, the shadowed cleft below. I dragged my fingertips along his inner thighs—light, teasing—watching gooseflesh rise in their wake.

Then I pushed his thighs up and back, folding him just enough to bare him completely. His hole clenched instinctively under my gaze.

“Beautiful,” I breathed. And I meant it. The most feared alpha in the compound, laid out and trembling for an omega’s touch.

I spat into my palm, slicking my fingers generously, then circled his entrance with one fingertip—slow, patient circles, letting him feel every ridge of my fingerprint, every tiny press without breaching.

His breathing hitched. “Alexander—”

“Shh.” I pressed just the tip inside. He was tight—impossibly tight for an alpha—but he yielded, muscle fluttering around the intrusion. I worked in deeper, one knuckle, then two, crooking my fingers to find that spot.

When I brushed his prostate he jerked like he’d been electrocuted, a raw, broken sound ripping from his throat. Precome dribbled steadily from his c**k now, pooling on his abdomen.

I added a second finger, scissoring slowly, stretching him open while my other hand returned to his shaft—slow, torturous strokes that kept him on the edge without mercy.

“Beg for my c**k,” I ordered, voice dark with possession.

His head thrashed once, pride warring with need. Then the dam broke.

“Please,” he gasped. “Please, Omega—Alexander—f**k me. Need you inside. Need your c**k stretching me, filling me. Please.”

The words poured out, hoarse and filthy and perfect.

I withdrew my fingers, positioned myself between his thighs. My own c**k ached, leaking steadily, but I took my time—rubbing the head against his slicked entrance, teasing, letting him feel how thick I was, how ready.

“Look at me,” I commanded.

His eyes snapped to mine—green, glassy, utterly wrecked.

I pushed in.

One long, relentless slide.

He was scorching hot, velvet-tight, gripping me like he never wanted to let go. I bottomed out with a groan, hips flush against his ass, balls pressed tight.

For a moment we both stilled, breathing hard, locked together.

Then I rolled my hips—small, grinding circles that dragged over his prostate with every motion.

Lazer’s back bowed, mouth falling open on a silent cry. His hands stayed above his head, trembling.

I set a punishing rhythm—deep, deliberate thrusts that made obscene wet sounds fill the hall. Each time I bottomed out I ground against him, stirring his insides until he was babbling.

“Please—harder—f**k—Alexander—don’t stop—need it—need you—”

I hooked his legs over my shoulders, folding him in half, driving deeper. The new angle let me hit his prostate dead-on with every stroke. His c**k bounced against his stomach, untouched, leaking copiously.

I wrapped my hand around him again, stroking in time with my thrusts—tight, slick, relentless.

“Come for me,” I growled. “Come on your alpha stomach while your omega f***s you open.”

He shattered.

His whole body seized, hole clamping down like a vice around me. Ropes of come shot across his abs, chest, even hitting the underside of his chin. His cry was raw, animal—nothing like the controlled growl I’d heard earlier.

The sight, the sound, the feel of him pulsing around me sent me over.

I buried myself to the hilt and came with a choked moan, flooding him deep, marking him from the inside. Wave after wave until I was shaking, spent, collapsing onto his chest.

We lay there, panting, sticky with sweat and come and spilled wine.

His arms finally moved—slowly, hesitantly—wrapping around my back, holding me against him.

I pressed a soft kiss to the bite mark on his throat.

“Mine,” I whispered.