Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

brANSON

Soft sobs greet my ears as I open the door. I stride out, concern making my heart beat out of my chest. Instead of some unknown calamity, Emmeline hunches by the front door, crying as if her heart will break.

"I didn't think asking you to get dressed would be such a burden," I tease, sitting next to her on the floor.

"I- I don't have any clothes."

My brows draw down as I pull out my communicator and scan the front cameras. No one in or out except us. That's odd.

"I thought they were supposed to bring some of your things over. Did they get lost? The civic center has my address."

"It's not that. Mother is refusing to send me anything. I had to beg her to send my school supplies, and even then, what's the point? I can't set anything up in this house. It's too much, too many things."

Without giving her a chance to protest, I gather her into my arms, rocking her back and forth as I purr. "We can make this work. Remember, I said we were looking at other places to live? I'm sure we can find something."

"It's not just the artwork. I- I-." Her hiccupping sobs slice through my heart, making my rage grow as anger for her mother embeds itself into my soul.

"What else is it? I can't help if I don't know."

She turns her teary eyes up to me. "I can't go back home if I'm not a virgin."

Shock roots me to the spot as I stare down at my new wife. "I told you; I don't give a fuck about sleeping with you. Not until you're ready. But damn. How heartless can she be?"

"It's not her fault," she whimpers, trying to make me understand. "She's told me from the beginning that she will not house nor abide sheltering a whore. My fault," she mutters, rocking back and forth, staining my t-shirt with her tears. "It's all my fault."

I grip her shoulders and force her to look at me. "What exactly is your fault?"

"I shouldn't have wanted you. I shouldn't have... shouldn't have."

"Shouldn't have...?" I coax, not sure what she could possibly be taking blame for.

Redness engulfs her face as she hides away in my shirt. "I shouldn't have thought about you while I touched myself. It's why we got married and not the other Alphas she brought to dinner to force a match."

Dumbfounded, I sit there, trying to process what she's saying. Try as I might, I can't hold the laugh back. Only when she starts to squirm as fresh tears leak from her eyes, I sober.

"I'm not laughing at you, Princess. I'm flattered you got yourself off thinking about me. But to reassure you, just having an orgasm doesn't make a genetic match. If that were the case, we'd be matched the day after I took the plug out of your ass."

"You do have a point," she murmurs, her voice thick with tears. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm married to someone she doesn't want or approve of."

Again, I force her gaze to mine. "Do you want me? That's the important question."

"I wish I could say no. I wish I could say I despise you, that I detest you, but I can't. You've awakened something in me that no other Alpha has. Even at the dinner, I couldn't help but compare how they smelled wrong. Not at all like you do."

"Then, as I said before, fuck your mother. You're married to me now. Anything we do together does not make you a whore. Hell, even if we weren't married, you wouldn't be a whore, but seeing as your mother is insane, I have to speak terms she'd understand."

"I'm scared." Her voice is so soft, so lost, so forlorn. It tears at the very fabric of my soul.

"I know, Princess. I've got you. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"But if we don't make it-"

"Let's talk about the worst-case scenario, since that's where your brain is stuck. Let's say six months come and go and we just don't work. I have so many friends who would take you in. Hell, I'm sure my parents would even take you in if it came to it. Whether you have sex with me or not. Whether we last the six months or not. You'll never have to go back home to your mother."

"And my stuff? You can't possibly make enough to replace everything."

"Replace? Probably not. But if you're willing to slum it with us plebeians, I can guarantee you'll be taken care of. It might not be the fanciest or the best, but you'll have everything you need."

Her body quakes against mine as she runs her hand over my cheek, peering deep into my eyes. "Please, Branson. Help me. Help me believe we can make it."

My cock pulses at her delicate insistence, but I have to know for sure she understands what she's asking. "I'm not always a gentle man. I'll do my best to temper my need for you until you're more comfortable, but you have to understand that I long to consume you, to drag you down from your palace and into my depths of depravity."

Arousal swirls off of her body at my words, confirming what I knew all along. She is perfect for me. I just have to convince her of that fact.

After a few moments, she glances away as she twiddles her thumbs. "I- I have a request."

"Anything, Princess."

"It's rather silly, and probably illegal..." she hedges, refusing to meet my gaze.

"Sounds delightful. Now I really have to know."

"C- can you make me?"

"Make you what? There are a lot of things I can make you do."

"I don't want it to be my fault, but I want to rid myself of this last chain linking me to my mother. I just don't think I can ever get rid of it willingly."

My heart stops for a moment as I mull over her words. "I want to make sure I'm very clear on what you're asking. You want me to force myself on you."

"Yes?"

"Anything off limits?"

"I- I don't think so."

"Oh, my poor, na?ve, little wife. You should have never said that. I would say run, but then, where would you go?"

Something snaps in my brain, something feral and depraved. As much as she wants me to force her virginity from her body, I'm not a heartless man. I actually care about her enjoyment. To a point.

"Am I going to regret this?" Her breathless query slams into me, making my cock pulse beneath the confines of my sweatpants.

"Most definitely. But first, I need supplies, and you're coming with me. Can't keep you tied up without any supervision." Rising from the floor, I bend down and throw her over my shoulder, growling at her startled squeak.

"P- put me down, you ruffian," she cries out halfheartedly while smacking my back with her palms.

She's playing now, but she won't be once I truss her up to the bed and make her helpless to my desires. With a gentle flip, I toss her onto the bed and straddle her, caging her thighs with my hips. Her eyes widen as her nostrils flare.

Fear poisons the air, but underneath, a current of need eddies over her body, making my mouth water and precum well up to my tip. Acrid and sweet. Char and sugar. Terror and arousal mix into one until I can no longer tell the scents apart—just an unholy amalgamation of desire and panic.

Her soft gasps as I grip the front of her expensive gown zip down my spine and settle into my balls, making them clench so hard it nearly steals my breath. With each piece I pull off of her, smooth, creamy skin becomes exposed to my gaze. As I continue to peel the fabric away from her curves, the delicate red flushing over her face dips down to the swell of her breasts, pinkening her skin.

Unable to resist the siren call of her body anymore, I bend over and kiss the column of her neck. Her soft sighs and virginal cries fill my head, muddying my senses as I trail down toward her breasts. Whether she realizes it or not, she arches up into my touch, thrusting her chest into my face.

I continue to strip her, tearing the fabric away in haphazard clumps littering the bed and floor. She'll never need another wedding gown ever again. From that instant, I know she'll be my one and only.

It's not just the genetics.

It's not just the Governing body.

For the first time in my life, I feel at home. I feel like I belong.

Her body curves against mine, fitting as if made for me. The alluring cry of her moans as I skim the tops of her breasts with my lips draws me forward, begging me to make her mine in every way. My teeth itch as I avoid her shoulder even though the need to claim her, to take her away from all the hurt and pain, beats at my chest.

I can't betray her this way. I refuse.

Pulling back, I continue to rip the dress from her body, reveling in the soft shrieks dripping from her lips. I know now that I'll need to rethink where we're going to live after this because I'll make even more cries of passion wring from her body until the neighbors demand I show she's okay.

I look down at my bride, a feral grin easing across my lips as I watch her tremble there in just her bra and panties. Such sensible pieces of underwear for such an alluring omega. Dropping my lips to her stomach, I kiss a path down until I reach the top of her mound.

Emmeline freezes as I drag the scrap of clothing from her body and drop it onto the floor to join the scraps of lace and silk. "Such a pretty pussy," I murmur, sliding my thumbs alongside her lower lips, spreading her open to my hungry gaze. "How I've missed you."

Before she can demand that I stop, I lower my lips down to her core and kiss the delicate skin, earning a strangled gasp from my virginal bride. She squirms as if she'll escape me, but that's not going to happen. Wedging my shoulders between her thighs, I watch as slick gathers at her entrance and drips down onto my bed.

"So fucking wet," I groan, sliding my fingers over her damp flesh. "God, you're so fucking wet. Fuck the supplies. I'm going to give you a thorough examination right here. Right now."

I pull from her body and head over to my closet. It takes mere moments to gather my rope and safety sheers. When I turn back, Emmeline stares at me from between her splayed thighs, her eyes darkening with every passing moment. A possessive growl ripples through my throat as I toss the rope onto her stomach.

Even though I know she wants me to force her, to force this, I need her to understand the enormity of her actions. Come tomorrow, she can't wake up and regret whatever it is we do in this room, because I sure as hell won't. Her body shudders as she squirms about, rubbing her thighs together like a cat in heat.

"Talk to me, Princess. Where's your head right now?"

"Please," she whimpers. "I- it hurts. Everything hurts."

Concern douses me like water on a fire. Rushing to her side, I cradle her face in my hands. "What hurts, sweetie? Where?"

"I... I... Down there. Between my thighs."

"Explain." My gaze scans her body, looking for any sign of injury.

"I can't," she wails. "The ache. Just please. Either fix it or let me."

A smile eases across my face as understanding finally dawns. "Poor, aroused, little thing. You want me to get you off? You want me to make the ache go away?"

"P- please. I can't bear it!"

"That's all I need to hear, sweetheart." With a large grin, I rise and gather the rope back into my hands. "Because once I tie you up, there's no going back. We're not leaving this room until you're my wife in name as well as deed."