The Rejected daughter chosen by the Alpha (Maya and Atila) novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93

– MAYA

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His hand was still on my breast, palm hot and firm, molding me like he had every right to. His

humb traced slow, lazy circles around my nipple, almost hypnotic.

But his eyes?

Those weren’t the eyes of a man lost in lust.

They were sharp. Assessing. Clinical.

Like he was studying me instead of touching me.

Are you dealing with some kind of hormonal issue?”

The question was so flat, so out of left field, I genuinely thought I’d misheard him.

A hormonal issue?” I echoed. “What does that even mean?”

He pulled his hand away like my skin had burned him. Just-gone. The finality of it hit harder than he touch had.

His jaw tightened. There was something in his eyes now-understanding. Too much understanding.

‘That’s what it looks like,” he said evenly. “Like you’re desperate to fuck and just need a body to get off.” A beat. Barely there. But lethal. “Like a female in heat.”

Heat.

The word ricocheted inside my skull.

My entire body went still. Blood turned to ice. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought he’d hear it.

Does he know what I am?

Is he-

No.

No. That was impossible.

If he were an Alpha, I would feel it. That raw, primal field. That animal dominance humming under the skin. His energy was strong, masculine, yes-but human. He smelled like cologne and coffee and old books. Like chalk dust and paper. Human.

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Chapter 93

Fear twisted into something sharp and defensive.

I smiled. Slow. Cold. Provocative.

“Are you that offended by the idea of being used?”

“Who the hell likes being used?” His voice sliced clean.

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I crossed my arms over my chest-not to hide, but to challenge. “Then you should probably leave. I’ll throw something on and find the first guy willing to put out this little fire of mine.”

I turned away, grabbing my shirt off the couch like I couldn’t care less.

“Just get out of my living room, Professor.”

I expected him to walk.

I expected ethics. Pride. Professional distance.

Disgust.

He didn’t move.

The floorboard creaked.

Before I could pull the shirt over my head, he was in front of me. His hands clamped around my face-not gentle. Not tender.

Possessive.

His eyes were pitch dark now. No professor. No restraint.

And then he kissed me.

Hard.

Demanding.

He forced my mouth open like he meant to conquer it. Thought evaporated. A raw sound tore from my throat as my fingers tangled in his hair, yanking him closer. He tasted like coffee and anger and something intensely male that made my entire body ignite.

He broke the kiss just long enough to breathe.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he growled.

“Say what?” I managed, lips swollen, breath wrecked.

“That you’ll spread your legs for another man.”

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4:25 pm M

Chapter 93

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Before I could even process it, his hands slid down, gripped my thighs, and lifted me clean off the ground. My legs wrapped around his waist automatically. My arms locked around his neck.

He carried me across the room like I weighed nothing, kissing me again-hungrier now. Desperate. His hard length pressed against me through his clothes, thick and unyielding.

He didn’t set me down gently.

He threw me onto the couch.

The cushions softened the impact, but barely. Air rushed from my lungs. He stood over me and- God.

He yanked his polo shirt over his head in one sharp motion.

That was not a man who lived in libraries.

Broad shoulders. Defined chest. Muscle stretched tight under sun-kissed skin. A dark trail of hair ran from his pecs down into the waistband of his linen pants.

I devoured him with my eyes.

The hunger inside me sharpened to pain.

His fingers went to his belt. Then the button. Then the zipper. He shoved his pants and boxer briefs down in one motion.

And then he was naked.

My mouth went dry.

He was big. Thick. Hard. Curved upward, veins pulsing along the shaft.

Without breaking eye contact, he dropped to his knees at the edge of the couch, between my legs. My hands shook as I shoved my shorts down and kicked them aside.

He hooked his fingers into the elastic of my cotton panties and ripped.

The fabric snapped apart like

No more teasing.

No kisses.

No slow burn.

paper.

His body covered mine, knees forcing my thighs wider, One hand gripped my hip and lifted me slightly to angle me to him. He guided himself to my entrance.

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I was already soaked. Aching.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I did.

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There was nothing restrained in his eyes now. Just possession. Just raw, unchecked desire.

He thrust.

One brutal, complete stroke.

A cry ripped out of me-loud, hoarse, uncontrollable. He filled me deeper than anyone ever had. Stretching me. Burning me open. My fingers dug into his shoulders as he stayed still for a second, breathing hard, muscles trembling like he was holding himself back from snapping.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

Then he moved.

He lifted my legs, draping my ankles over his shoulders, driving even deeper. Every thrust hit a place inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes. The wet slap of skin filled the room-his low, guttural grunts, my broken moans climbing higher with each stroke.

“Is this what you wanted?” he demanded, picking up pace. Harder. Faster. His hands gripped my hips tight enough to bruise. “This?”

“Yes!” I cried, arching into him. “Like that-don’t stop!”

He flipped me onto my stomach so fast it made my head spin. Hauled my hips up. The angle was obscene. He took me from behind, each thrust making the couch scrape against the floor. His fingers twisted in my hair, pulling my head back.

Being taken like that-used, dominated-sent electricity through my spine.

“You’re mine,” he growled against my ear. “Your fire. Your madness. Mine to handle. You understand?”

I couldn’t answer.

All I could do was moan.

The couch wasn’t enough. When our bodies got too wild for it, he lifted me again and pinned me against the wall. My back hit the cool surface, legs wrapping around him. He drove into me there, holding our combined weight like it was nothing.

We stumbled into the kitchen.

He sat me on the cold marble counter, sweeping utensils aside with one arm, and thrust into me

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Chapter 93

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again. The chill beneath my skin and the blazing heat inside me was overwhelming. My breasts bounced with the rhythm, and he bent down, taking a nipple into his mouth-tongue, teeth, suction sending shockwaves straight through my core.

Another orgasm built fast. Violent. I was shaking with it.

“I’m-I’m gonna-“I gasped.

“Come,” he ordered. “Come on my cock. Let me feel it.”

That was it.

The wave shattered through me, ripping me out of reality. My body arched, a broken cry tearing from my throat as pleasure convulsed through me. I felt him pulse inside me, his control snapping with a rough groan against my neck, hot release filling me as his hips jerked in deep, final thrusts.

And then-

We went again.

And again.

And again.

Until our bodies finally gave out.

When he finished inside me for the last time, he caught me before I could slide off the counter. We sank together to the hardwood floor, tangled, sweaty, shaking.

Exhaustion swallowed everything.

We lay there for what felt like forever. Just breathing. The world reduced to the sound of our lungs slowly steadying.

Outside, the darkness began to thin. A soft gray-blue light crept through the blinds, catching dust in the air and illuminating our tangled bodies on the kitchen floor.

The night was over.

A new day was beginning.

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