Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Ella

In the end, my exhaustion saves me. I hadn’t realized how tiring the evening was, but the added pressure of putting on our show for the reporters must have taken more of a toll than l expected. I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, but as fate would have it, I can’t even escape Sinclair in my dreams tonight.

I know I’m dreaming from the very start. I’m still in Sinclair’s bed, but it’s no longer in his opulent mansion.

It’s in the middle of a starlit forest, with nothing but trees and wilderness surrounding it as far as the eye can see.

I’m wearing a simple white negligee -more evidence that this isn’t real, I don’t own anything like it. A cool breeze flutters over my skin, carrying the scent of evergreens and moss, rich amber and… Sinclair. I would know that scent anywhere, even though I can’t see him yet.

He appears slowly, moving towards me through the darkness, his green eyes glowing through the trees. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of simply black slacks, and for the first time I don’t feel shy about appreciating his gorgeous physique. I’ve always averted my eyes when he undresses in front of me, not that this prevents me from feeling his muscles or the huge member between his legs when our bodies are pressed up against each other in bed.

But now I look my fill, raking my eyes over the rugged planes of his face and the contours of his che.st.

His tall frame is padded with muscles most human men can only dream about – some of which I didn’t even know existed.

“Hello beautiful,” Sinclair greets me huskily, prowling closer with every ragged breath I take, his naked torso gleaming in the moonlight. “Didn’t you get enough of me when you were awake?”

“How could 1?” I pout, feeling completely face to express my sullen mood. “You teased me all night long and I haven’t had any relief. It’s torture!”

“It’s not easy for me either.” He murmurs sympathetically, crawling up onto the big bed. He moves with such lethal grace, crawling over the plush covers until he’s close enough to reach out and touch me, which he immediately does. He lies on his side, encouraging me to come rest in the protective circle of his arms. I don’t resist. I slide into his embrace as easily as I breathe, feeling completely at home with this dangerous man wrapped around me. It seems strange to think he terrified me a month ago, now he’s my safe space.

“It’s not the same.” I insist, looking over at him from beneath my lashes.

brushing the hair back from my

my bre-asts are still aching, and my se*x is swollen

a fist in the long silky strands while the other slides down over my bottom, hitching my h!ps closer, until the pulsing bundle of nerves at the apex of my things is right up against his

touch sets me on fire.” I complain. “You holding my hand feels

to move against him, guiding my h!ps

– figuratively and literally”I confess, and I know he understands. My we.tness has already seeped through my pa*nties and onto the sleek black fabric of his trousers. “You have

don’t really think it’s different

to my throat and brushing his

so frustrated that

fangs over the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “How hard I always am for you?” I’m shivering with need now, especially as his words combine

a half-na*ked woman, it would happen with anyone.”

head at last, taking a break from leaving the soft spot

human, I

you have a powèr all your own. Don’t you know how difficult it is for me to be near

you’re in my arms, when all my instincts are driving me to make you mine? Ever since we met I’ve felt like an

allowing one taut n!pple to meet Sinclair’s bare che.st, teased and tickled by the coarse black hair

credit.” Sinclair answers, his l!ps mere inches from mine. “And you give me

me, to strip off my negligee and finally relieve the terrible ache which seems to have taken over my very soul. I think Sinclair can sense my growing desperation, but for some reason he isn’t giving me

I stop listening, too intent on chasing my pleasure. I whimper when the delicious friction I’d been building ceases, and Sinclair clucks sympathetically. Still, he doesn’t show me any mercy. Instead he tilts my chin up so I’ll have to look him in the eye, “I don’t waste my time on people l’m not serious about, or relationships that aren’t going

talking about this.” I relate, “It’s not like this is even real, it’s just

shutter, and he leans his forehead against mine. “Goddess, sometimes I forget how much you don’t