Fated To Not Just One, But Three

Chapter 182: On His Lap

Olivia’s POV

My breath caught in my throat as I tried to get off his lap, but Alpha Damien held me down firmly. I struggled, but it was no use. He was too strong.

"Let me go!" I murmured, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I didn’t like how hot my body was getting. It was confusing. Wrong.

I had never been in a position like this. Bent over a man’s lap. Especially not a man like Damien.

"You’re staying right here," he said in a deep, calm voice. "You acted silly. Now you’ll count."

"Count?" I asked, confused.

Then I felt it. He lifted the back of my robe. My heart jumped as cool air hit my thighs. My gown was up, and I knew he could see everything. I was wearing a thin black gestrin, and it didn’t cover much.

"Damien!" I gasped, trying to move.

"If you struggle again, I’ll make it twenty," he said. "Ten if you behave."

I froze, swallowing hard. My face burned with shame... but also something else. My body felt warm, even needy, and I hated it.

"This is embarrassing," I muttered.

He leaned down, his voice low and close to my ear. "Don’t be shy now," Damien murmured, his voice like a slow ripple of thunder. "We’ve already done more than this, haven’t we?"

My body tensed as the memory replayed in my head.

I hid my face in my arms, trying to stay still.

smack—sharp and

"One..." I said quietly.

again. "Louder, Olivia," Damien repeated, his

much—his touch, his voice, the heat spreading across my skin. My cheeks were already on fire, but now that fire was sinking lower, curling deep in

this time, trying to stay

again. Another sharp sting. I flinched, a soft gasp slipping from

"Three..."

thin fabric between my legs stuck to me, and

little lower, his thumb brushing the top of my thigh. My breath

"Four."

voice shook. My hips twitched before I could stop myself. I was losing control. Everything in me screamed that this was wrong, but I couldn’t pull away.

"Five."

was hard. I could feel it clearly now beneath me, pressing against

the heat, the pulse, the

pressing together on instinct. My face buried deeper into

his palm came a little harder, and I could feel my

words came

yourself! My wolf groaned

and the sound of his breathing sent a chill down my spine. His hand was still on me—warmer now, heavier. It slid over my skin, not to spank this time, but to caress. His palm moved in slow, deliberate strokes over the

clenched my

strap of my gestrin. I flinched, half from the sensation and half from panic. "Don’t!" But I didn’t move. I didn’t

murmured, his voice low, husky, impossibly calm. "But look at you. So wet you’re sticking

soaked fabric clinging to me, revealing far too much. And when he tugged my panties down, slowly, purposefully, baring

weakly, lifting my head.

my nephews’ wife," he said, his