Alpha's Dark Desires-Chapter 162: Addicted

Elena’s pov:

I was so eager, so desperate, that I yanked off Dean’s shirt, my fingers barely keeping up with the frantic need consuming me. He helped, his muscles flexing as he pulled it over his head, but before it could even hit the floor, my mouth crashed back onto his. Desperate. Starving. Wild.

I sucked at his lips, nipping his lower one hard enough to make him groan, my hands already fumbling with his pants. My fingers brushed over his bulging hardness, straining against the fabric, and a wicked thrill shot straight between my legs. Fuck. I needed him.

My lips never left his as my hand wrapped around his cock through the fabric, palming it, squeezing it just to hear him curse. He growled into my mouth, his grip tightening around my waist, but I wasn’t stopping—not until I had him the way I needed.

I tore at his belt, yanking it open, and slid his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, heavy, already leaking. Mine. My lips trailed away from his, my teeth grazing down the sharp cut of his jaw, then lower, lower, my tongue tracing every hard line of his body.

Gods, he was built for sin. Every muscle was tight and coiled, his abs rippling beneath my lips as I descended. Down past the sculpted ridges of his stomach. Down the delicious V-line that guided me straight to what I wanted most.

His cock stood proud, throbbing, and I licked my lips. I could already taste him before I even touched him. With a smirk, I dragged my tongue up his length, slow and teasing, my hand circling the base.

A sharp inhale. A growl. Then a harsh tug to my hair.

"Fuck," Dean hissed, his fist tightening at the back of my scalp as I wrapped my lips around him.

I moaned as I took him deeper, letting my tongue swirl around his tip before hollowing my cheeks and sucking hard. His grip on my hair turned brutal, his hips jerking forward as he fucked into my mouth, raw and needy, exactly how I wanted him to take my pussy.

My nails dug into his thighs, encouraging him to go harder. His head tipped back, his abs flexing as he lost himself to the wet heat of my mouth, cursing my name like a prayer.

And fuck, if I didn’t love it.

I let him take control, let him thrust deep until I could barely breathe, my throat stretching around his cock. The burn, the pressure, the sheer filth of it only made me wetter. I was soaking. I could feel my slick dripping down my thighs, my core clenching around nothing.

I whimpered around him, rubbing my thighs together, desperate for friction, for anything— but it wasn’t enough.

Dean must have sensed it because the next second, he yanked me up, my breath ragged, my lips swollen and wet from sucking him.

"You’re fucking dripping," he rasped, his hands roaming down my body, fingers trailing over my aching, sensitive nipples before gripping my waist hard enough to bruise. "You need to be fucked, don’t you?"

"Yes," I panted, grinding against him, feeling his cock rub against my soaked heat.

"Say it," he ordered, his voice thick with dark hunger. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you to fuck me, Dean. Hard."

That was all it took.

With a growl, he lifted me, spun me around, and bent me over the desk.

And then he took me.

Got it! Here’s the continuation—raw, dark, and unrelenting—set in the steamy confines of the bathroom where Elena was showering.

I barely had time to catch my breath before Dean spun me around, pressing my wet, naked body against the slick, cold tiles of the shower wall. Steam curled around us, thick and suffocating, but it was nothing compared to the heat between us.

His hands were everywhere—rough, demanding, claiming. He grabbed a handful of my ass, squeezing, spreading me open as he dragged the heavy length of his cock along my slick folds, teasing, taunting, making me whimper.

"Dean—"

"Shut up," he growled against my ear, his teeth scraping over my throat as he lined himself up and slammed into me.

"Fuck!" My cry bounced off the bathroom walls, my nails scratching against the tiles as he stretched me wide, filling me in one brutal thrust. The delicious burn, the overwhelming fullness—it was exactly what I needed.

"That’s it," he muttered, his lips hot against my skin as he pulled back and thrust deep again, harder, faster. "You wanted to be fucked hard? Then take it."

I arched against him, meeting every punishing snap of his hips, moaning as the sound of skin slapping against wet skin filled the shower. The pressure was relentless, intoxicating. Every time he drove into me, my body clenched tighter, my pleasure spiraling higher.

I barely noticed when he grabbed my wrists—still slick from the water, still trembling from my earlier need—and pinned them against the tiles above my head.

"You’re so fucking tight," he gritted out, his pace brutal, relentless, his cock dragging against every nerve inside me. "So fucking wet for me. You love this, don’t you?"

I could barely think, let alone respond. My breath came in short, desperate gasps, my legs shaking as the pressure built higher, hotter, unbearable.

But just when I was about to break, just when I was seconds from crashing over the edge—

He pulled out.

"No!" I gasped, my hips jerking, seeking him, chasing that release I was so close to.

Dean chuckled, dark and wicked, gripping my waist and flipping me around to face him. My wrists were free now, but I felt more powerless than ever.

"You thought I’d let you come that easily?" he murmured, gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his dark, lust-drowned eyes. "Not until you scream my name."

And then, before I could beg, before I could curse him—

He lifted me off my feet.

My legs wrapped around his waist, his cock sliding back into me in one swift, brutal motion. My head tipped back, a strangled cry escaping my lips as he fucked up into me, using the slick tile for leverage.

"Dean!" His name was ripped from my throat as he thrust into me harder, deeper, faster.

"That’s it," he grunted, his grip bruising on my hips as he pounded into me, fucking me against the wall like an animal.

The sound of water pouring down, the slap of our bodies colliding, the desperate moans and growls between us—it was filthy, raw, completely out of control.

And I fucking loved it.

His lips found mine in a bruising kiss, his tongue tasting, claiming, owning me as he fucked me harder, as if he wanted to fuck me so deep I’d feel him every time I moved.

I was lost. Completely lost.

I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders, his back, and still, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed more.

"Harder," I begged, biting his lower lip, my body trembling on the edge of something devastating. "Dean, harder!"

"Fuck," he cursed, his arms tightening around me, and then—

He spun us again, carrying me out of the shower.

We barely made it to the sink before he slammed me down onto the cold marble counter.

I barely had time to adjust before he was inside me again, fucking me so deep and hard I swore I could feel him in my stomach.

My hands flew to the edges of the sink, gripping it for dear life as he drove into me mercilessly, making the mirror shake, making my whole body quake.

"Look at yourself," he demanded, one hand gripping my jaw, forcing my gaze to the mirror in front of us.

I gasped at what I saw.

My body—wet, flushed, ruined. My lips swollen, my eyes dark with pure lust, my breasts bouncing with every forceful thrust of his hips.

And Dean behind me, eyes black with desire, completely lost in me.

"See how fucking beautiful you look?" he rasped, his grip tightening as he drove into me harder, chasing his own release. "How perfect you are when you’re getting fucked like this?"

I was close—so close I could taste it. My body tensed, my legs trembling as he pushed me right to the edge again.

"Come for me," he growled, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing rough, fast circles. "Fucking scream for me, Elena."

That was all it took.

My body shattered.

I screamed his name, my back arching, my nails raking down his chest as pleasure tore through me, hot and violent and all-consuming. My walls clenched tight around him, milking him, dragging him over the edge with me.

"Fuck—Elena!" he groaned, his thrusts turning erratic, his grip bruising as he came deep inside me, filling me with everything he had.

For a long moment, we stayed like that, breathing hard, completely spent, the only sound in the bathroom the dripping of water and the aftermath of what we had just done.

Dean’s forehead rested against mine, his breath ragged.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice still dark, still hungry. "That was..."

I swallowed, my body still trembling, still wanting.

"Not enough," I whispered.

His head snapped up, his pupils still blown wide, his hands already roaming my body again.

"Good," he smirked. "Because I’m not fucking done with you yet."

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